Allison Leigh - How a Cowboy Stole Her Heart / The Rancher's Dance - How a Cowboy Stole Her Heart / The Rancher's Dance

When guests rose to get pictures of the couple cutting the cake, she picked up her purse and slid out the side door. It was early April and the wind held a chill; she chafed her arms with her hands and savored the brisk crispness of it. She’d had to escape the perfection. It was all around her today—the romantic setting of the Victorian-style inn, the pretty dresses, the happiness in Lily’s eyes and the contentedness she saw in Jen’s as Andrew rested a hand on her rounded tummy where their baby grew. It was too much when Meg’s life held so much uncertainty. Maybe someday she’d be ready for love, but it wouldn’t be easy as a survivor. It stung that everywhere around her were reminders.

It was like starting the game at a deficit, and most of the time she did okay with it. But today the proof lurked in every corner. She rested a hip against the porch railing and looked out over the fields, still dotted here and there with clumps of stubborn snow. This was what was real. The ranch land, the herds, the never-changing mountains. This was her life—not the muted laughter and music she heard coming from inside. It had been fun to pretend for a few hours, but the girl in the red dress and high heels and makeup—that wasn’t Meg Briggs. That was Meg Briggs trying to prove something. Now that she had, it felt empty.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

Clay’s voice came from behind her—a surprise. She didn’t turn around. “I thought you were avoiding me.”

“How could I avoid you when you were sitting right next to me?” He chuckled but she heard the tightness in the sound. She stared at a circling hawk and shrugged.

“It sure seemed like you were trying.”

There was a long silence, and then the sound of his boots on the wood floor. “I didn’t want people to get the wrong idea.”

She got the feeling he wasn’t telling the whole truth, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear it anyway. “And what idea is that?”

“That we’re … you know. Together.”

Would that really be so bad? She bit back the words. Maybe she’d been wrong about everything today. Maybe the look on his face at the church had just been surprise and not … She thought for a minute. Not what? Attraction? Desire? Boy, she’d really gotten swept up in it, hadn’t she? Sure he’d told her she looked beautiful, but wasn’t he sort of obligated to say that? His behavior at dinner told the true story. Even if there was something—she’d felt it when their hands brushed—Clay would never admit it. Never act on it. A sound of frustration escaped her throat.

“Are you okay?”

She ground her teeth. “If I had a nickel for every time someone asked me that lately, construction on my riding ring would start within the week.”

Clay put his hand on the railing beside her. “For Pete’s sake,” he said irritably, “it’s a simple question and there are lots of ways to be okay. It’s not always about … it can just be because you ducked out. You know. Overwhelmed. An emotional thing.”

“You can’t even say the word, can you?”

She finally turned around and looked up at him. Ah, there it was. The closed expression and the wrinkle above his nose that looked like she could slide a coin into it. He was so afraid of the word cancer .

“What do you want from me, Megan?”

The answer rushed into her brain so quickly she had no chance to prepare. I want you to hold me . For the first time she truly understood what today was about. It wasn’t about showing him. It was about reaching him, something she’d never quite been able to do. He was right here beside her but he’d never been so far away, either.

“Nothing. I don’t want anything from you.” She went to skirt around him but he reached out and grabbed her wrist.

She looked up at him, feeling her temper rise. “Let go, Clay.”

He immediately let go of her wrist, but she didn’t run away. “Why are we arguing?”

“I don’t know.”

“I think you do.”

She deliberated telling him exactly what she thought and immediately dismissed the idea. Even if he were ready to hear it—even if she were ready to say it—now was not the time or the place. Not with people around. Not on his aunt’s so very special wedding day. She let out a long breath, forced herself to relax. “Let’s just enjoy the rest of the wedding, okay? The dancing will be starting up soon.”

Which brought out another problem—how could they possibly dance together now, when their emotions were flashing back and forth like a pair of stop and go lights?

“Meg …”

“Not now, Clay.” She looked up at him. “Please. Put on a smile and let’s go inside. The last thing I need is more people asking if I’m all right. We’re supposed to have each other’s backs tonight, remember?”

She just wanted to get the evening over with now. When they returned to the banquet room, the tables had been moved aside to make more room on the dance floor. A local DJ was getting ready to start things up and the lights had dimmed.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the bride and groom!”

Meg watched as Stacy and Mike took the floor. Stacy’s white dress swirled around her ankles but the true beauty was in her smile. After so many years alone, she’d finally found love and happiness. Meg got a lump in her throat watching them smile and turn through a waltz. Maybe Stacy and Mike were nearing fifty, but they’d seen their chance and they’d taken it. Meg curled her arm around her middle and felt her incision pull just a bit. She doubted that magic would ever happen to her now, doubted she’d ever be ready for it. There were too many uncertainties to contemplate taking such a leap.

After the first dance, Clay danced with Stacy so Meg latched on to Andrew, knowing Jen was finishing up duties in the kitchen. Tom Walker came to claim his dance, and then she circled the floor with Dawson, who pointblank asked her what was going on with Clay.

“Nothing.”

“My eye,” he responded, swinging her under his arm and bringing her back around.

“You’re wrong.”

“You knocked his eyeballs out earlier,” Dawson said.

“Well, they’re back in place now,” she replied dryly. “Things are predictably back to normal.”

Dawson shook his head. “Clay will never admit it, but he’s watching out for you. More than usual. It’s like he’s everywhere.”

She raised an eyebrow. “It’s not a real date. Not that anyone is buying that, but it’s true.” She was still chafing at the idea that Clay felt the need to look out for her.

“I saw his face when he saw you, sis. I’ll put money on this being a real date.”

“And you obviously have a problem with that.”

“Heck, yeah. Clay’s my best friend, but that means I know him better than anyone. So do you,” he pointed out. “Clay’s not the romance kind, Meg. He’s a diehard bachelor and we both know why. I can’t trust my sister’s welfare to a guy who’ll end up hurting her, no matter how much I like him.”

Trust his sister’s welfare? The annoyance of earlier flared back to life. “Oh, you guys,” she said sharply, scowling. Dawson slid her under his arm again and she knew it was a deliberate ploy to put her off. When they came face-to-face again she stepped on his foot.

“Ow!”

“Newsflash, Dawson Briggs. I can look after myself. No one needs to watch over me or worry about my welfare. Stop interfering. Got it?”

Dawson muttered something about an ill-tempered snake and she nearly laughed. Nearly.

The song ended and the beat changed to something slow and romantic. Her shoes were new and her feet were beginning to ache but as she turned to leave the dance floor Clay was there, ready to take her into his arms.