Debbi Rawlins - Texas Blaze

She kept a watchful eye out for Dennis. Most people were focused on the color displays in the sky, while still sitting on the blankets they had spread out for their picnic suppers. She’d already checked out the groups of cowhands standing near the tent with beers in their hands. Anyway, she doubted Dennis would be wasting his time talking with the help.

Oh, brother, she really had to knock off the uncharitable thoughts. Yes, she was angry enough to scream, but she suspected guilt over her reaction to Mitch had more to do with her readiness to pick Dennis apart.

The area behind the bunkhouse seemed to be deserted, the perfect place where she could be alone with her thoughts, pull herself together before saying her goodbyes to everyone. The fireworks would be over in two minutes and the crowd would thin quickly. She’d find Dennis then.

She leaned back against the bunkhouse wall of rust-stained cedar, and closed her eyes, intent on savoring the moment. At the same time, a man’s voice came from around the side of the bunkhouse that faced away from the crowd.

Dennis’s voice.

Her eyes flew open. She listened, waiting. Trying to convince herself she’d been mistaken. A second later, coming from the same direction, a woman laughed softly.

Kate pushed away from the wall and stood perfectly still. Surely she’d only imagined Dennis’s voice. What would he be doing there at the side of the bunkhouse? It didn’t make sense. Again, hushed voices and laughter drifted toward her. She struggled for her next breath. Perhaps her body had acknowledged what her mind refused to accept.

Slowly she forced herself to take a step toward the sound. She moved quietly, dreading what she might find. Right as she got to the corner of the bunkhouse, before she rounded the corner, she took a deep breath, fortifying herself. Then she ducked around the corner. The darkness and the ancient oak tree both obscured her view. By the same token, she wasn’t visible, either, and she waited another second, listening and hoping she’d imagined the whole thing.

“I have to get back.” It was Dennis’s voice. “I think the fireworks are almost over.”

“Hmm, not yet,” the woman whispered seductively.

“Damn, you’re making this hard.”

The woman laughed. “That’s the point.”

Kate’s heart twisted in a queasy knot. It was obvious what was going on behind the tree. She told herself she should just leave. Why humiliate herself by letting them know she was here? But she couldn’t move. She could barely breathe.

Damn him. This was her house, her property, her party. Why make it easy for him by not letting him see her? She loosened her fists, unaware that she had clenched them, and lifting her chin, stepped out into the open.

The woman’s back was to Kate. A blur of blond hair and curves, and an indecently short denim skirt. Dennis was pressed against her, kissing her, running his hands down her back. Even though a shadow muted his face, Kate knew the second he noticed her.

He straightened and then jerked away from the woman. “Jesus.”

“Bastard.” Kate’s voice came out a whisper. She couldn’t deny she wanted to slap him. Instead, she backed away.

“Wait.” Dennis rushed toward her. “Kate, please, this isn’t what it looks like.”

Every ounce of her wanted to run, hide until the scene faded from her memory, but she stopped, a hint of hysteria bubbling inside her. Calmly, she said, “Then what is it?”

His face was clear to her now, the pallor of his skin, the fear in his eyes largely satisfying. He stared mutely at her. Then he lifted a hand to touch her, and she jumped back, unable to trust herself to remain genteel.

“Leave, Dennis. Now.”

“We need to talk.”

Without another word, she turned and headed back toward the house, praying her legs would carry her the entire way.

MITCH MOVED FARTHER BACK into the cover of the shadows, clenching his fists in helpless rage. Hidden, he waited until Kate had passed by, the man who was obviously her fiancé right behind her, before Mitch dared to relax his hands. The blonde who’d been with the scumbag wandered off in the opposite direction. Mitch had no quarrel with her. Who knew what the two-timing bastard had told her?

Not that Mitch had the right to stick his nose into Kate’s business. She’d be mortified to learn that anyone had witnessed her fiancé’s betrayal. Still, he wasn’t reacting any differently than Clint or Joe would have. Either one of her brothers would have laid the guy flat already. That Mitch had shown any kind of restraint was a small miracle, a testament to how far he’d come from the hotheaded kid who’d left West Texas all those years ago.

The fireworks were over, the last of the red, white and blue from the finale already fading from the dark sky. Dozens of people had started trudging toward the lineup of cars and trucks that stretched for a quarter mile down the private road leading to the highway. He tried in vain to keep track of Kate’s movements, but he lost her in the crowd. Although he figured she had to be headed for the safety of the house. Poor kid. He hoped she wasn’t stopped by too many people.

Shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans, he strode in the same direction, staying clear of the lighted areas, not anxious for anyone to recognize him and start shooting the bull. He wouldn’t mind running into Clint or Joe, although he knew enough to keep his mouth shut about what he’d just seen. Whatever happened with the engagement, whether she was foolish enough to give the guy a second chance or send him packing, it was up to Kate to deliver the news to her family.

Man, he hoped she did the smart thing. Nah, he didn’t have to worry. Kate had more pride and gumption than to take back the bastard. She’d cut him loose. Unfortunately, that was the easy part. The next few days of second-guessing and painful self-doubt was the stage he didn’t envy her. The pointless replaying of conversations that had left her uneasy, of the excuses he’d given that she so readily and irrationally accepted. Mitch knew the drill. He’d been there himself once.

Mitch rubbed the tension building at the back of his neck. Damn, he wished he hadn’t headed to the bunkhouse. He needed to focus on the rustling problem, and now all he could think about was rearranging that jerk’s face.

AFTER BEING STOPPED TWICE, Kate raced though the kitchen door and upstairs to her bedroom. More people would undoubtedly be looking for her to give their thanks and bid her good-night. She didn’t care. Better they couldn’t find her than breaking down in front of them.

If no one mentioned her engagement, she’d probably be okay, but she hadn’t been willing to take the chance. Word would spread soon enough that the wedding was off. Not even if Dennis got down on his knees and begged forgiveness, or took out a full-page ad in the Houston Chronicle announcing to the world what a jerk he’d been and pleading for a second chance would she give in.

She locked her bedroom door, leaned back against it and slowly sank to the floor. How could Dennis have been so callous? It was horrible enough that he’d betrayed her, but in her own backyard? The throbbing at her temples intensified until the pain blurred her vision. She squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to cry, the searing sting of tears burning the backs of her lids.

The hazy image of the woman he’d been kissing edged into Kate’s mind. She hadn’t gotten a very good look at the blonde and couldn’t say if she knew her or not. Everything had happened so fast. But she recalled the short skirt and the bleached, teased hair. The kind of woman the cowhands picked up in the local bar for a night.

Kate shuddered. Ironically, one of the problems she’d had with Dennis was that he was a bit of a stuffed shirt. Conservative and proper to a fault, even for a school principal. His goal was to become superintendent of schools for the West Texas district. She understood he needed to protect his image, but how often had she tried to get him to loosen up when they were alone? Yet he’d risked everything by compromising himself at the side of the damn bunkhouse.