Diana Palmer - Nelson's Brand

With determination, she smiled and danced and socialized. But her heart wasn’t in it. Without the elusive Mr. Nelson, everything had gone flat.

The elusive Mr. Nelson was, in fact, feeling the same way. He’d had to force himself to leave the barbecue, because he’d wanted to dance with Allison. But getting involved with her would only create more problems and he’d had enough. He thought about going into town to the bar, but that felt flat, too. He was losing his taste for liquor and wild women. Maybe he’d caught a virus or something.

He strolled past the bunkhouse, hearing loud laughter, led by the redheaded Rance. It was Saturday night, and he couldn’t forbid the men liquor on their own time. But one of these days, he was going to have to confront that venomous rider. He’d been needling Gene for days. The man was sweet on Dale Branigan, and fiercely jealous of Gene. He could have told him there was no need, but it wouldn’t have done any good.

He kept walking, his mind still on the way Allison had looked in that sundress. He paused to check two of the sick calves in the barn, marveling at how much he’d changed in just one day and one night. Maybe it was his age, he thought. Then a picture of Allison Hathoway’s soft hazel eyes burned into his brain and he groaned. With a muttered curse, he saddled a horse and went out to check on the night herders—something he hadn’t done in months.

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