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

Something that made his heart catch. Something he didn’t want to even think about. He never wanted to put himself in a position to be left like his father was. And with Meg, the odds were all against him.

MEGAN twisted her scarf skillfully around her neck and adjusted the cap on her head, a funky black knitted item with a tiny peak at the front. She’d made herself come into town today, but she’d held back from going hatless. After seeing Clay’s reaction to her short hair she wasn’t quite ready to face a town full of curious neighbors. The way Mark Squires, the local bank manager, had looked at her when she’d taken off her cap had told her she’d made the right call. He’d been completely polite, but she didn’t miss how his gaze had fixed on her hair before traveling down to her face. His eyes had been understanding and kind, but she knew their meeting began with an automatic subtext, and it had all gone downhill from there.

There would be no loan for the expansion. Meg put her hand in her coat pocket and ran her fingers over the rock inside. It had been a silly notion, thinking to rely on her old good luck charm. And yet she couldn’t bring herself to toss it away. It was just a rock, a piece of brown stone with an unusual golden streak running down the middle. But Clay had given it to her when they were just kids.

He’d been angry in those days not long after his father had died and Stacy had come to live with him. Megan remembered it all quite clearly. “That’s very pretty,” she’d commented as he’d turned the rock over in his hands.

Without a smile he’d handed it over. “Then it’s yours, Squirt,” he’d said, and she’d ignored the horrible nickname simply because Clay had given her something—even if it was just an ordinary rock.

Today she’d dug it out of the box on her dresser and tucked it in her jacket. It seemed fitting that she have a talisman from the one person to be supportive of her dream. He’d been honest but he’d also encouraged her to keep at it and she’d clung to those words. Because of them she’d set up the meeting. It had been for naught but at least she’d tried. Now all she really wanted was a strong coffee and something sinfully chocolatey.

The smells coming from Snickerdoodles bakery were too good to resist. She paused for a moment, wondering if she were up to coming face-to-face with Jen Laramie today. Clay was right about one thing—she’d been avoiding her friends since her return. It didn’t matter how many times she practiced lines in her head, she was never quite sure what she would say. She knew she was being a coward and she took a breath and dropped her shoulders. Perhaps with a glass counter between them it would be easier, less personal, a way to break the ice.

She set her lips and put her hand on the doorknob. The bell above the door gave a happy jangle as she stepped inside the shop and its gorgeous blend of scents—brewing coffee, rich chocolate and spicy cinnamon.

A young woman she didn’t recognize was behind the counter, and Meg found that despite her resolve she was relieved she wouldn’t have to face Jen. She would have to face her friends eventually—she couldn’t avoid them forever. Nevertheless, she was still thankful that today wasn’t the day, especially when she was so very disappointed at the morning’s outcome.

She ordered a gooey, thickly frosted hazelnut brownie and a large dark roast coffee to go. Meg took her waxed paper packet and coffee cup and made her way outside again into the March sun. She sat on a nearby wooden bench and slid the brownie partly out of the wrapper. The first bite was heaven. The second, fortifying. She took a sip of the strong coffee and sighed. As comfort food went, it didn’t quite match up to her mother’s beef stew and fresh bread, but for right now it worked. Mark Squires had delivered the bad news and it was either buck up with a jolt of caffeine and cocoa, or wallow in self-pity about yet another thing that cancer had stolen from her. She’d rather work off the calories in the barn than waste precious time feeling sorry for herself.

“Well, well. A public appearance.”

Her head snapped up and she nearly bobbled her brownie as Clay’s deep voice slid over her nerve endings. Her tongue seemed to tangle in her mouth as she swallowed. She had put her crush behind her, so why in the world did she still find him so gorgeous? It was ridiculous that a rush of heat flew into her cheeks and her hands grew slippery at the mere sound of his voice.

Today he wore a black Stetson and a brown ranch jacket above jeans and boots. His mouth turned up in one corner while his eyes twinkled at her, taking the sting out of the words, leaving her completely at his mercy. She remembered the way his gaze had followed her the last time he’d been at her house. She’d avoided eye contact, but she’d been completely aware of the way his eyes had zeroed in on her rather than focusing on his cake.

She sighed and cut herself some slack. She was a woman after all. And Clay Gregory had that effect on just about every female in Larch Valley, including those with bifocals and old enough to be his grandmother. She reminded herself that he also knew exactly how charming he could be. It went a long way toward cooling her jets.

She took a deliberate sip of coffee. “I’m not a total hermit, you know.”

He chuckled. “I’m glad to hear it. And sitting on a bench in the sunshine no less. What’s the occasion?”

She considered for a moment and then wondered what she had to lose by being truthful. “Drowning my sorrows.”

The half smile evaporated. “Are you feeling okay?”

Meg fought back irritation. This is how it would always be. Something would go wrong and everyone would automatically assume it was her health.

“I’m fine.”

When she didn’t elaborate Clay shifted his weight and looked pointedly at the seat beside her. “May I?”

The fact that he asked rather than simply took it upon himself to sit down made something warm curl inside Meg’s stomach. For all her feminine reactions, they were friends. Or at least they used to be. She slid the brownie back inside the wrapper and nodded. “Of course.”

His large form seemed to dwarf the wood and iron bench and Meg swallowed. When she met his gaze, his chocolate eyes held concern. Maybe things weren’t as over for her as she’d thought. Being next to Clay, having his undivided attention, brought all sorts of old feelings to the surface. Feelings that would be better if they remained buried, all things considered.

“Anything I can do?”

Of all the things she expected him to say, the simple offer had been furthest from her mind. “Not really,” she answered. This was her problem, and it was up to her to find a solution—if there was one. “Looks like my big plan is a bust after all.”

His brow pulled together in the way she knew it would. “What do you mean, it’s a bust?”

“I met with the bank today. I can’t get a loan, and no loan, no expansion. Simple.”

Only three days ago she had been on horseback, looking down over the ranch and sharing her plans with Clay. She’d been able to see it all in her head—the new building with the riding ring, the horses grazing in the pasture, the corral where she taught youngsters how to ride and put their mounts through their paces.

Now it was all gone in a puff of smoke, and she felt foolish for telling him anything. She hated failure, but in particular she hated failing in Clay’s eyes. Clay had always done every single thing he’d put his mind to. Nothing had ever stood in his way, no matter how much adversity he’d faced, and he’d had his share.

“I’m sorry, Meg. Maybe there’s a way you can get the bank to reconsider.”