Honorable Rancher

To the amusement of everyone in the hall, Ellamae made a valiant effort to snag the bouquet in midair. The cumbersome baseball mitt let her down. The flowers slipped from her grasp, tumbled in Dana’s direction, bounced off her shoulder, and landed in the arms of five-year-old Becky Robertson, who squealed. Jaw dropped and eyes wide, she looked up at Dana.

Sam’s little girl was deaf. Glad his wife had taught folks some sign language, Dana fluttered her hands in the air, using the gesture for applause. Hearing Becky’s high-pitched laugh made her smile. Dana held her right hand palm turned inward a couple of inches from her own face. Tilting her hand, she pulled all her fingertips together. “Pretty.”

Clutching the bouquet, Becky nodded energetically, then ran toward her daddy, who waited at the edge of the dance floor.

“There goes one happy young’un,” Ellamae said, shaking her head. “Well, after seeing that smile, guess I can’t begrudge the girl. Better luck next time for the rest of us.”

Not for me, Dana thought with relief as the other women drifted away and Ellamae stomped off in a pretend sulk. Her good fortune had come from not getting stuck with that bouquet.

Then she made the mistake of looking at Ben. No smiles there. No luck for her, either. He had started across the room toward her.

Chapter Two

Had Ben read her thoughts in her face from all the way across the room? Had everyone in the entire banquet hall noticed her relief at not catching the bouquet?

Casually, she hoped, Dana glanced away from Ben at the tables clustered around the dance floor. No one seemed to pay any special attention to her—except the bride, who marched up, shaking her head. “What in the world do you call that attempt? You didn’t even try to catch it.”

“I most certainly did. Ellamae made me nervous.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet.” Tess frowned. “Are you having a good time?”

“Of course.”

“I wonder. I wish we could have matched you up with a more eligible partner.”

“Don’t be silly. Sam and I are perfectly happy to act as a couple for the day.”

Tess laughed. “You know, Caleb planned to ask him to stand up for him anyhow, but Sam beat him to it. He insisted Caleb choose him. Since he’d just gotten married, Sam claimed he would be the best best man Caleb could ever find.”

No, he wouldn’t. Dana had to bite her tongue to keep the words from spilling out. Of all the males in the room, Ben Sawyer would make the best man. He’d proven that ever since her own wedding. And in all the years before it.

He’d always been there for her, had always played such a big role in her life. Right now, though, she felt sure he planned to steal the show. Or at least, to make a scene. One she didn’t want Tess to witness.

“Speaking of Caleb,” she said quickly, “he’s trying to get your attention.” She gestured toward Tess’s new husband, who had pulled a chair into the middle of the dance floor.

Tess gave an exaggerated groan. “Oh, no. It’s garter time.” She murmured, “Tradition is all well and good, but we have to draw the line somewhere. I’ve got the garter around my ankle.” She grinned. “I hope he’s not too disappointed.”

Dana forced a laugh. “You have no worries there.” The band played a few bouncy chords. Copying Ellamae, she made shooing motions toward Tess. “Go on. Everyone’s waiting.”

Single males, including Ben, flowed onto the dance floor. But as Tess returned to the front of the hall, he broke from the group and veered toward Dana.

“Did Tess tell you what she thought about your pathetic try at that bouquet?” he asked.

She exhaled in exasperation. They certainly had an audience now. She caught several people watching them, including Judge Baylor, who had taken pride of place in the center of the floor.

If she had to, she would smile until her cheeks hurt. But she wouldn’t take a lecture from Ben. “Yes, Tess gave me her feedback. So I won’t need any from you. Thanks, anyway.”

“But I had my entire speech planned.”

She laughed. “Save it for someone else. And for your information, as I told Tess, Ellamae made me back off.”

His brows rose. “That’s a switch.” He smiled as if to soften his words. “I thought you could handle anyone who got in your way.”

“Anyone but you, Ben,” she muttered after he’d left to rejoin the other men.

At the front of the room, teasing his blushing bride, the groom tugged at the hem of her gown. As the other wedding guests cheered him on, Dana’s mind wandered—directly to the dark-haired man whose shoulders strained the fabric of his well-cut tuxedo.

After Paul’s death, Ben had offered to do anything he could to make things easier for her. His attention smothered her. His kindhearted attempts to help threatened to do even more. To make her needy and dependent and weak.

She couldn’t let that happen. Not after all the years she’d heard those words from another man—the one she had mistakenly married. Paul had forced those words on her, had done his best to convince her they truly described her. She couldn’t fall for that again, either.

And so, it had been easiest—best—to turn away from Ben. To stay away from him, when she wanted to do just the opposite. When everything in her longed for—

Laughter rippled around her. She sagged in relief, genuinely glad for the interruption that kept her from going down that mental road. She couldn’t go anywhere with Ben. Shouldn’t even think about him.

Outside, alone with him in the moonlight, sitting beside him on that bench, she’d wanted just to close her eyes and lean against him and see what would happen next. But she couldn’t. Too many responsibilities and too many bad memories would keep her from ever relying on any man again.

Especially Ben.

As if she had called his name, he turned. Her breath caught. It wasn’t until he approached her that she realized the garter toss had ended.

The music changed from the bouncy rhythm to a slower beat.

“May I have this dance?” he asked. He stood so tall, she had to look up to see his dark eyes staring down at her.

At the thought of stepping into his arms, her heart lurched. A dangerous road... A risky decision...

Somehow, she had escaped having to dance with him at Sam and Kayla’s wedding the year before. She had managed to avoid that tonight, too. Until now. But they had an audience all around—all the folks from Flagman’s Folly—scrutinizing their every move.

She blurted the only thing that came to mind. “Why not? We’re friends, aren’t we?”

His expression solemn, he nodded and held out his hand.

She couldn’t have refused his invitation. Couldn’t have turned him down. And he knew it. Of course, the matron of honor would dance with the ushers, too.

Why was she trying to kid herself? She wouldn’t have turned Ben away at all.

But she should have.

He took her hand and settled his free arm around her waist, holding her in a light but steady embrace. As he led her expertly around the crowded floor, she tried desperately to focus on her movements. One trip over her own feet, and she’d make a fool of herself. One slip on this dance floor, and she’d wind up even closer to him than she stood now.

If that were possible.

She was nearly nestled against him. Her head swam, and she strained to keep her focus on the lapel of his dark tuxedo. She would not look up at him. She would not meet his eyes. She was too afraid of what he would read in hers.

There were other senses besides sight, though.

His warmth enveloped her, relaxing her even as it made her heart beat triple-time.

Loving the scent of his spicy aftershave, she inhaled deeply...and caught herself just as her eyelids began to close. Wouldn’t that have made a pretty picture for all the wedding guests to see!

She shifted slightly in his arms. Her hand brushed the edge of his collar, her fingertip catching the faint sandpaper prickle of five-o’clock shadow on his neck. A shiver ran through her.

“You okay?” he murmured, tilting his head down.

“Fine,” she whispered. So many uses for that one little word. So many lies.

He moved his arm from around her waist and rested his hand flat against her back. His thumb grazed the skin left exposed by her gown. For a moment, she felt sure he’d done it deliberately.

Silly wishful thinking. Yet she had to swallow hard against the small, strangled sound that had risen to the back of her throat. She should have turned him down.

No matter how much she longed for him to hold her.

The musicians brought the song to an end. With a sigh of relief, she dropped her arms and stepped back. Instantly, she missed his warmth.

“Thank you for the dance,” he said.

Reluctantly she looked up, more unwilling than ever to meet his eyes. Instead, she focused on his mouth. On any other man she might have taken the curve of those lips as a complacent smile. Or even a self-satisfied smirk.

Not on Ben.

“Thank you, too,” she murmured. She saw Tess approaching and turned to her.

“Dana, didn’t you say P.J. and Stacey are staying with Anne all night?”

“Yes.” The casual question helped clear her head. She had made special arrangements with her babysitter. “Anne’s keeping them at her house, since I knew Lissa and I would get home so late.”

“Good. But Lissa’s now staying at the Whistlestop with Nate.”

Dana frowned. Tess’s mother had turned their family home into a bed-and-breakfast inn a couple of years earlier. Lissa spent the night at the Whistlestop Inn as often as Nate stayed at their house. But... “Roselynn doesn’t need an extra—”

“No buts, please. I checked with Mom first.” Tess leaned toward them and continued in a lower voice, “Nate’s having a hard time adjusting to us going away. I invited Lissa.”

“In that case, then, of course.”

“Great.” Tess turned to Ben. “We’ve had to do some rearranging and the limo’s now overflowing. You won’t mind taking Dana back to town, will you?”

“Of course not.”

“But—” Dana started.

“Gotta run,” Tess interrupted. Again. “Caleb’s waiting.” She turned away, her gown swirling behind her.

“I can find another ride—”

“No need,” Ben said.

He closed his fingers around her elbow as if she planned to hurry after Tess. She did. “Duty calls,” she said, tugging her arm free. “After all, I’m Tess’s matron of honor tonight.”

“No problem,” he said easily. “I’ll be waiting for you when it’s time to go.”

A few quick steps, and she’d left him behind. If only she could have left her own treacherous thoughts on the dance floor, too. On the long ride to Flagman’s Folly in the quiet darkness of his truck, she’d better put those thoughts out of her mind. Or even safer, put herself to sleep. Then she wouldn’t be tempted to think...to say...to do...anything she’d regret.

Silly to worry about that. What harm could come from a simple ride home with him?

Good old, dependable Ben. She could count on him to be there for her. To be her friend, always. To never do anything inappropriate.

It was enough to break her heart.

* * *

A RED GLEAM FROM THE ROAD up ahead caught Ben’s eye. The headlamps of his pickup truck reflected off the taillights of a vehicle pulled to one side of the road.

“Ben,” Dana said, her voice tight with concern.

“Nothing to worry about.” Even if he hadn’t seen the car days ago, he’d have realized that. The coating of yellow dust from bumper to bumper and the dingy handkerchief hanging from the antenna told him it had sat there for a while. “I noticed it when I came this way last week.”

No need to check for anyone stranded inside the vehicle. Still, habits died hard. He slowed for a look as he drove past. Around here, with towns few and far apart and where the sun parched everything it touched, folks kept an eye out for others.

Just as he watched over Dana.

“I’m surprised you didn’t notice it before tonight,” he added. “You’re on the road often enough.”

“Not lately.” She sounded irritated.

“In fact, that could’ve easily been your van broken down back there. And what would you have done by yourself?”

“Called for a tow truck, of course. Besides, when I leave town, I’m usually not alone. I have clients with me.”

She shifted in the passenger seat.

She hadn’t said much so far on their way home. He’d even caught her with her eyes closed a few times. No surprise, considering the clock read ten past midnight.

Cinderella hadn’t made it home on time.

Between her last-minute duties at the banquet hall and the long ride back to town, they’d only come to the outskirts of Flagman’s Folly now.

“Sleep well?” he asked, smiling.

“Just resting my eyes.”

In the dim light from the dashboard, he could see the line of her cheekbones. Again, he noted the weight she’d lost. Still, she looked beautiful. But tired. “With all the kids away, maybe you can get some extra rest in the morning.”

“Not a chance. I’m picking up P.J. and Stacey at seven.”

“So early?”

She laughed softly. “I wouldn’t inflict P.J. on Anne and her mother any longer than that.”

It had been a while since he’d seen the kids. Once, he’d had the run of Paul’s house. He swallowed the bitter thought and kept his eyes on the road. “He’s still a chatterbox, huh?”

“Always been a chatterbox,” she corrected.

“He takes after his mama.”

“He does not.”

His laugh sounded much more loud than hers had. “Now, don’t try pulling that one on me. I grew up with you, remember?”

“How could I forget?”

She didn’t sound happy about it. “Was it that bad?”

“Don’t be silly.” She sighed. “I didn’t mean that. I was just thinking in general about growing up here.”

“The best place in the world,” he said.

“Mmm.”

“What? You don’t agree?”

“Of course, I do. It’s just...you know how people are here. They don’t forget a thing, either.”

“Works for me. It’s nice to have folks around who know all about you.” Nice, except for their long list of expectations. He stayed quiet for a while, listening to the tires whip the road. “Well,” he said, finally, “I’d hate to live in a town where nobody knew his neighbor. Wouldn’t you?”

She didn’t answer. He smiled. She’d gone back to resting her eyes again. Her lashes left shadows on her cheeks. Her lips had softened. He wanted a taste. When he’d held her in his arms tonight, he’d had to fight like hell to keep from pulling her closer and kissing her.

Before they’d left the banquet hall, he’d thought about polishing off a whole bottle of champagne. He hadn’t had but two glasses, hours before. Maybe some extra would have given him justification for what he wanted to do now. To step outside everyone’s expectations. Especially hers.

He’d rejected the idea of more champagne, though. He’d never been much of a drinking man, and he wouldn’t use liquor as an excuse for his behavior.

Besides, he didn’t need alcohol to explain why he felt the way he did about Dana.

Glancing across the space between them again, he noted the way the pink lace of her dress lay across her shoulders. Then he forced his gaze to the road, where it belonged.

He had no right to look at her as she slept, unaware and vulnerable. No right to look at her at all. He was obligated to watch over her, to take care of her, as he’d promised his best friend he would do.

She’d made that damned hard for him.

He thought back to the day Paul had stopped by the ranch house on his last leave. The day Paul had asked him to watch over his family. Stunned by the request, Ben still had his wits about him enough to agree in an instant.

Paul and Dana and their kids were as close as family to him. He loved Lissa and P.J.—Paul Junior—as much as he loved his niece. He felt the same now about Stacey. Of course he would watch over them. All of them.

He had to keep that promise. Had to make sure he stayed close to Dana and the kids.

Staring at her with lust in his eyes probably wasn’t the best way to get her to go along with that.

She woke up again just as they reached Signal Street, the town’s main thoroughfare. He managed to smile at her briefly without making eye contact.

A few minutes later, after he’d turned onto her street and pulled into her driveway, he found himself grasping the steering wheel, as if his tight grip could rein him in, too. “Here we are,” he said inanely, his voice croaking.

When he rounded the truck and opened the passenger door, she gathered her dress in both hands. Balanced on the edge of her seat, she hesitated.

The light from the streetlamp a few feet away turned her face pale as whipped cream and her hair buttery gold. Her eyes sparkled. He stood, one hand palm up, heart thumping out of rhythm, the way he’d waited after he had invited her to dance.

Finally, she reached out to him. Though he’d had the heater on low for the ride home, her fingers felt cool. Automatically, he sandwiched her hand between his. “You should have said something,” he reproached her. “I’d have cranked up the heat.”

“It’s okay.” She slipped free and walked toward the house.

For a long moment, he watched the pink-skirted sway of her hips. Then he came to his senses. As she unlocked the front door, he caught up to stand beside her.

“Coffee?” she murmured.

Not such a good idea. He forced a laugh. “You’re not awake enough to make coffee.”

“Of course I am,” she shot back.

He’d said just the wrong thing. Or had he? Had his subconscious picked just the right words to guarantee she would argue the point?

She frowned and pushed the door open. “It will take more than the ride home to settle me down after all the excitement today. And it’s the least I can offer to say thank you.”

You could offer me something else.

Fingers now curled tight around a nonexistent steering wheel, he followed her into the house and the living room he’d once known so well.

“Have a seat,” she said. “I’ll be back soon.”

Obediently, he dropped onto her couch and sat back as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

Yeah. Sure. At least he’d gotten the obedient part right. No one in town would have cause to argue with him about that. Not even Dana.

He knew what folks thought of him—he’d lived with the knowledge his entire life. Good old Ben Sawyer. Well-behaved, safe, trustworthy Ben. Ben, the boy-next-door. All compliments, all good qualities to have.

The trouble was, not one of them appealed to him now.

The moment Dana went through the doorway into the kitchen, he sat up. He needed to pull himself together. To get control.

Not much chance of that, all things considered. Since grade school, he’d struggled to get a handle on the crush he had on her. Struggled—and failed. Years ago, that calf-love had turned into a powerful longing. And tonight, holding her in his arms had shot all his good intentions to pieces.

No matter how long or how hard he fought, he would never win.

Because no matter how wrong it made him, he wanted his best friend’s wife.

Chapter Three

Leaving Ben as quickly as her pink high heels could carry her, Dana escaped to the kitchen, seeking safety in her favorite room in the house. But once there, she felt the walls closing in. As a tenant, she couldn’t make permanent changes, but she’d decorated with blue-and-white towels and curtains to match her dishes. The normally soothing colors did nothing for her now.

Throughout the room, she’d hung so many houseplants Lissa often said they ate their meals in a garden. A jungle, five-year-old P.J. insisted every time.

An appropriate description at the moment, as she roamed the room like a tiger on the prowl, too tense to sit while the coffee brewed. Too aware of Ben just a few yards away.

After the dance, the ride home in the car and the sight of him sitting comfortably on her couch, nothing could calm her. And she had to go back into the living room and make polite conversation with him—at this hour! Why hadn’t she said goodbye at the door instead of inviting him in?

Not wanting to admit the answer to that, she gathered mugs and napkins and turned the teakettle on.

Ben would only want coffee, though. She knew that about him and a lot more. His coffee preference: black, no sugar. His favorite food: tacos. Favorite cookie: chocolate chip. Favorite ice cream: butter pecan. What she didn’t know about Ben Sawyer wouldn’t fill the coffee mug she’d set on the counter.

What he didn’t know about her...

She stared at the teakettle, which took its sweet time coming to a boil. Maybe better for her if it never did. Then she wouldn’t have to go into the other room and face the danger of getting too close to him and the disappointment of knowing all the things she wished for could never come true.

This reprieve in the kitchen couldn’t last much longer. Unfortunately. She had to stop obsessing about Ben.

She had to think of her kids. And her husband.

The reminder froze her in place.

Not all that long ago, her marriage had become about as solid as the steam building up in the teakettle. She and Paul had both known it, but before the issues between them could boil over, he announced he had enlisted. No warning. No compromise. No discussion. She’d barely had time to adjust to the news when he’d left for boot camp.

She had tried to see his decision as a positive change, a chance for him to come home a different man. For them to work things out. She owed her kids that. But the changes didn’t happen for the better. His letters slowed to a trickle and then stopped arriving altogether.

When he came home on leave, the brief reunion was more uncomfortable than happy. Their final time together, she’d made one last attempt to save their relationship—an attempt that had failed. By the end of his leave, they’d agreed to a divorce. And to keep that between them until he returned after his discharge.

Only, he hadn’t returned at all.

She’d been left with kids she loved more than life, a load of debt she might never crawl out from under, and renewed determination to hold on to the truth. A truth she had sworn no one—especially Ben Sawyer—would ever learn. A determination that Ben, so full of kindness and concern, undermined with almost his every breath.

Beside her, the teakettle screeched and spewed steam.

Like a dragon, P.J. always said.

She looked at it and shook her head. Dragon or no, the kettle didn’t scare her. Neither would Ben.

As long as she didn’t get too close to either of them.

With an exasperated sigh, she moved across to the coffeemaker and poured a full, steaming mug. She was stalling, delaying the moment she’d have to face him again, whether he scared her or not. Quickly she poured her tea. Then she stiffened her spine and stalked toward the doorway to the living room. There, she faltered and stood looking into the room.

Tall and broad and long limbed, he seemed to take up much more than his share of the couch. He had left his jacket in the truck. While she had gone to the kitchen, he’d undone his tie and the top few buttons on his shirt. The sight of that bothered her somehow. Maybe because he hadn’t hesitated to unwind, yet she remained strung tight.

He turned his head her way. His dark eyes shone in the lamplight. A smile suddenly curved his lips.

“I made myself comfortable,” he said.

“So I see.” Obviously he felt right at home, while she felt...things she definitely shouldn’t allow herself to feel.

“You haven’t changed much.”

Startled, she stared at him. Then she saw he hadn’t meant her at all. His gaze roamed the room, scrutinizing the well-worn plaid fabric on the couch and chairs, the long scratch on the coffee table where P.J. had ridden his first tricycle into it. Ben had been there that Christmas afternoon. He had bought that tricycle. Was he thinking about that now, too?