Barbara White Daille - Honorable Rancher

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.