WITH DELANEY and everyone else gone, the night was far too quiet as Conner sat in his study, halfheartedly flipping through the latest issue of Idaho Cattlemen. Since coming to Dundee, he’d pored through every ranching magazine he could lay hands on, trying to learn the business, trying to gain some bit of information that might help him put the Running Y in the black. But now that his grandfather had listed the ranch for sale, he no longer saw any reason to bang his head against that wall. Roy might think he was giving up too easily, but he knew his uncles. They wouldn’t be happy until they had the money from the ranch to invest in another hotel or office building or winery in California. They didn’t care that the Running Y hailed back to Clive’s roots, that it stood for something beyond profit. To them, it was all about dollars and cents. Nothing else mattered.
So why was the idea of letting go bothering him so much? With the ranch on the market, he no longer had to worry about failing. The big question—whether or not he could follow in his grandfather’s footsteps—would never be answered, and he could simply tread water until the ranch and all its problems disappeared. For whatever reason, his uncles had given him a graceful out. But somehow, taking that out made Conner feel more like a failure than if he’d kept fighting.
He tossed the magazine aside and considered calling his mother. He wanted someone to tell him there wasn’t anything more he could do, that the fate of the Running Y was out of his hands. Then maybe he could really let himself off the hook. But he knew she’d probably agree with Roy about giving up too soon, so he frowned and shoved the phone away. He couldn’t beat Stephen, Jonathan and Dwight. Not when they stood together. They’d always had too big an advantage.
“You gonna sit there all night, staring into space?” Roy said, poking his head through the doorway. He smelled as if he’d doused himself with an entire bottle of Brut cologne.
Conner blinked and focused on his foreman. “I thought you went into town with the others.”
“No, Isaiah has a date, and Grady and Ben say they’re too tired. What about you? You wanna go to the Honky Tonk?”
Conner winced at the memory of his last visit, when he’d sat alone for hours and drunk himself silly. It had hardly been a rip-roaring good time, and he hadn’t been back since. “I don’t think so. Place was dead when I was there.”
“That’s because you went in the middle of the week. No one here parties in the middle of the week. We got too much work to do. But it’s Friday night, and the Honky Tonk’s always packed on Friday night. Come see for yourself.”
“I don’t know,” Conner said. “I should really…” He let his words fade because he wasn’t sure what he should be doing anymore. Now that the ranch was passing out of his control, almost everything on his “to do” list seemed to have little point.
“Come on,” Roy said, adjusting the new hat he wore on social occasions. “It’s time you got out.”
Conner had never dreamed someone would say that to him—to his grandfather, yes, but not to him.
“Delaney will probably be there,” Roy added.
Conner shrugged as though that didn’t matter, but she was becoming such a regular fixture at the ranch that he was beginning to feel her absence whenever she was gone. Especially when she went home on the weekends….
But that was only because he couldn’t look out for her if she wasn’t around, couldn’t make sure she was taking care of herself for the baby’s sake, he decided.
“So?” Roy demanded.
“Sure,” Conner said. “Why not.”
* * *
“DON’T LOOK NOW, but Conner just walked through the door,” Rebecca said, nudging Delaney as they waited at the bar for their drinks.
“Great,” Delaney said. “I can’t escape him anywhere.”
“Why do you think he came? I’ve never seen him here before.”
Delaney frowned and allowed herself a covert glance across the room. She could easily see Roy and Conner cutting through the crowd, making their way to a table. Roy had scrubbed up and was wearing a western shirt and his dress hat, which added a few inches to his height. Conner looked more casual. He wasn’t wearing a hat, just the Wranglers that fit him so well and a thick fleece sweatshirt that he probably considered dressing down but went a long way toward accentuating his powerful shoulders and drawing female attention. Sliding a hand in one pocket, he paused to respond to someone who’d spoken to him, and when he shifted, Delaney saw it was Gloria Palmer, an old friend of hers from high school.
“He’s probably here for the same reason we are,” she said, feeling a stab of possessiveness she told herself she had no right to feel. “Just looking for a little entertainment.”
“Ignore him,” Rebecca said. “Don’t let him ruin your fun.”
Delaney accepted the soda water Rebecca handed her and pressed through the crowd until she reached the darts area in the corner, where Billy Joe and Bobby waited for them.
“I just hit a triple bull’s-eye,” Billy Joe announced, pointing at a red-tailed dart smack in the middle of the board. “See that and weep, ladies.”
“It doesn’t count,” Rebecca said with a shrug. “We haven’t started another game yet.”
“What do you mean, it doesn’t count?” Billy Joe complained. “I knew we were going to start another game, so I went first.”
“There’s your problem,” Rebecca told him. “I was supposed to go first.”
“What do you think, Laney?” Billy Joe asked.
Only half listening, Delaney returned to the conversation. “What?”
He gestured at the dartboard. “I think I should get to keep that triple bull, don’t you? This is our third game, and it’s my turn to start.”
“You started last time,” his brother told him.
“So?” Billy Joe argued. “If Rebecca was marrying me, I might let it slide. But she’s rejecting us both for some guy in Nebraska, as if anybody would want to live there. Anyway, Laney thinks I should get to keep it, don’t you, Laney?”
“Sure,” she said, “whatever,” and threw another glance over her shoulder to see Conner laughing with a small group near the jukebox.
Rebecca rolled her eyes. “Don’t listen to her. She lost her ability to reason about five minutes ago.”
“No, I didn’t,” Delaney protested. “What is it you wanted to know?”
Billy Joe cocked an eyebrow at her. “You’re not drinkin’ now, are ya, honey? Because that’s not good for the baby. Even I know that.”
She held up her soda water. “I’m not drinking.”
“Then, what’s wrong?” Bobby asked. “You feelin’ sick again?”
“No, not tonight.”
“Well, if you’re feelin’ sad ’cause you wanna give that baby a daddy, darlin’, you just let me know,” Billy Joe said. “Because you don’t want no millionaire’s grandson, no siree. You want a real man like me.”
Delaney laughed. Thanks to Rebecca, just about everybody she saw knew about Conner and the baby. Billy Joe and Bobby had been teasing her all night, telling her she had to name the baby Billy Bob, after both of them. But she didn’t mind the secret being out in this setting. It was the people who decided her job future who worried her. When they learned about her situation, she doubted there’d be too much laughter.
“Your turn,” Rebecca said, after throwing her three darts and winding up with a double seventeen.
“Nice start,” Delaney said.
“She didn’t start, I did,” Billy Joe corrected. “And I got a triple bull.”
Delaney threw her own darts and landed a bull’s-eye on her first, and a twenty on her third. But she was having a tough time concentrating with Conner Armstrong only half a room away and every available woman in the place—and some who weren’t so available—fanning herself at the sight of him.
“He’s not that handsome,” she muttered, but even Rebecca seemed to disagree.
“Laney, you can call that man a lot of things, but unhandsome isn’t one of them.”
“Whose side are you on?” Delaney asked, looking over her shoulder yet again. Only, this time she found Conner staring right back at her and nearly dropped her drink. Immediately glancing away, she set her glass on the small round table where they kept their darts, grabbed Billy Joe’s arm and demanded he dance with her. He seemed a little befuddled by the sudden move, but he obliged, and a few minutes later, his brother and Rebecca joined them on the floor.
“What’s up with you girls tonight?” Bobby asked, scratching his head as they all turned slowly in a circle to Lee Ann Womack’s “I Hope You Dance.”
“Conner’s here,” Rebecca explained.
“The millionaire’s grandson?”
Rebecca nodded. “That’s him.”
Billy Joe smiled. “Where?”
“Don’t look now,” Delaney cried. “He might be watching us.”
“Then, let’s give him a show, darlin’.” Pulling her into a much tighter embrace, he buried his face in her neck and clung to her as though they were lovers.
“I think you’ve had too much to drink,” Delaney said, squirming until she could maneuver them into a position that was a little more respectable. But he only laughed and dropped a quick kiss on her lips.
“Let’s see how he likes that,” he said, but Rebecca and Bobby weren’t laughing with him, and the moment Delaney looked up, she saw why. Conner was charging through the dancers, practically shoving them to one side. And he was coming straight for her.
She gazed up at Billy Joe. “I don’t think he liked it.”
“I don’t think so, either,” he said, sobering.
Delaney didn’t have a chance to say any more before Conner took hold of her arm.
“I believe this is my dance,” he said.
Billy Joe hesitated, but after a moment, he stepped back. “Sure. I was just congratulating her on the baby.”
“Fine,” Conner said. “We appreciate it.” But his body language said he didn’t appreciate Billy Joe at all, and Billy Joe knew enough to clear out.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Delaney asked, as Conner slipped his arms around her waist.
“Dancing.”
She tilted back her head to see his face. “You had no right to break in.”
“You’re carrying my baby. I think that gives me some rights.”
Delaney tried to stop dancing, but he pressed his hand against the small of her back and kept her swaying with him to the music.
“Don’t you agree?”
“That would depend on what kind of rights you mean,” she said. “You’re acting as though you have some say over what I do.”
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “You already got what you want from me and now you’re not interested in any more?”
Not interested in any more? Delaney could feel his body only a heartbeat away, and remembered how he’d made love to her. He’d used his hands and his mouth to relax and excite her in ways she’d never imagined, then struck a rhythm that carried her with him, swiftly and easily, until she forgot all self-consciousness and everything else—except him. He’d been part of every thought, every sensation, and was now so inextricably connected to her ideal of the perfect lover that she wondered if anyone else would ever compare.
“I don’t know what you want me to say.” She glanced at the people around them as if the sight of the familiar might take her mind off being in Conner’s arms again. “I can’t undo what happened in Boise.”
Rebecca touched her shoulder from behind. “Laney, we’ll be over at the darts.”
“Great. I’ll go with you,” she said, and started to step away, but Conner locked his hands behind her back.
“She’ll meet you later,” he told Rebecca.
Rebecca looked at Delaney, obviously trying to determine whether or not she should get involved, and Delaney waved her on. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll be over in a minute.”
Rebecca hesitated another second, but finally nodded and left, and Delaney watched Conner’s eyes follow her friend across the floor.
“Your partner in crime,” he said.
“She means well.”
“And what about you, Laney? Do you mean well?”
Delaney could smell his cologne, feel his breath on her face. His hands gently massaged her back and held her closer, making her wonder where he was going with all this. Was he still trying to punish her in some way? His anger obviously hadn’t cooled. Delaney wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to forgive her. So why was he dancing with her now?
“Do you want to hear another apology? Is that what you want?” she asked, letting her confusion show in her voice.
He frowned at her, then shook his head and suddenly released her. “I don’t know what I want,” he said, and walked off, leaving her standing on the dance floor staring after him.
* * *
CONNER DOWNED the contents of his glass, hoping the alcohol would calm the conflicting emotions inside him. He was angry—but that was okay. Considering the circumstances, anger was a reasonable reaction. What wasn’t so reasonable was the jealousy that twisted inside him every time he saw Delaney dancing or laughing with someone else. The child she carried belonged to him. But she didn’t. As she’d informed him, he had no say over what she did, and he couldn’t figure out why her freedom to interact with other men bothered him so much.
Except she owed him something, didn’t she?
He couldn’t decide. What had happened in Boise was simply a one-night stand. He’d had brief encounters with other women, women from whom he wouldn’t have accepted any claims later on. But this time there was a baby involved, and a baby was a tie that could never be broken. That meant they owed each other something. In his mind, Delaney had no business milling about the singles’ scene.
Only she was still single. And he was here tonight, wasn’t he? If she shouldn’t be acting as though she was available, did that mean he shouldn’t, either?
“Looks like you’re having a great time. I’m glad I brought you,” Roy said, turning back from a conversation he’d been having with a small group of men at the table next to them.
“I’m having a blast,” Conner replied, just as sarcastically, but before he could say more he noticed the tall blond cowboy he’d once met at the feed store approaching their table.
“Hey, Josh,” Roy said. “How’s the horse-breeding business?”
Josh nodded at him. “Roy. Can’t complain. How’s things at the Running Y?”
Roy shook his head. “Could be better. You remember Conner Armstrong, don’t you?”
“I do.” Josh reached out to shake his hand, which forced Conner to turn his thoughts away from Delaney for a few seconds.
“Good to see you again,” Conner said. “Want to sit down?”
“Sure.” Josh pulled up a chair, stretched his legs out in front of him and hooked an arm over the wooden back. “I’ll have a Heineken,” he told the waitress, who’d hurried over the moment she saw him and was smiling eagerly at them both.
“I’ll have one, too,” Conner said.
She looked expectantly at Roy, who shook his head, then told them she’d be right back.
Josh scooted his chair around so he was half facing the dance floor. “I hear you’ve put the place up for sale,” he said.
Roy’s scowl left no question as to how he felt about that, so Conner answered. “Yeah.”
“How much you askin’?”
“You in the market?”
“Possibly. My brother and I’ve been looking for some long-term investments and we think the land will be worth quite a bit someday, when the economy improves.” He shrugged. “In the meantime, we can always use the acreage to expand our business.”
Conner thought about how his grandfather had started out—as a poor country boy who’d borrowed every dime he needed to buy land and stock his first year. Somehow Clive had managed to make good, to build something out of nothing. The last thing Conner wanted was to let the symbol of that legacy slip through his fingers.
But all the nostalgia in the world couldn’t save a failing ranch. “I’ll send you a sales packet,” he said.
Josh gave him a friendly smile. “Roy knows where to find me.”
The waitress returned with their beers, and Conner insisted on buying. Josh said he’d grab the next round, but the way he kept glancing at the corner where Delaney and her friends were playing darts bothered Conner. He wasn’t sure there’d be a next round.
“You see something you like?” Conner finally asked.
“What?”
Conner indicated Delaney and her group with a nod.
Josh grimaced and brought his chair around. “No, Rebecca’s engaged. And I’m going out with someone else.”
So it was Rebecca who kept drawing his eye, not Delaney. Conner couldn’t understand any man being attracted to Rebecca over Delaney, but in that instant, he decided he liked Josh Hill, after all.
Roy chuckled. “Josh would never get involved with Rebecca, anyway. They can’t even say hello without an argument. Ain’t that right, Josh?”
“Right. I’m not a glutton for punishment,” he said, but something about the way he said it made Conner wonder whom the man was trying to convince.
“Remember that time when you two were still in high school and she wrote ‘Josh sucks’ with bleach on your lawn?” Roy asked.
“How could I forget?” Josh laughed and shook his head. “My father was furious. It took all summer to restore the grass.”
“What did you do to set her off?” Conner asked.
“Stole some panties from her gym locker and ran them up the flagpole,” Josh said with a grin. “Which was probably bad enough. Only Rebecca doesn’t wear just any panties. These were more like a thong, so she was pretty embarrassed.”
“But he didn’t have to do anything to provoke her,” Roy explained. “For some reason, she’s always had it in for him.”
Josh glanced over at Rebecca again. “Yeah, it’s a good thing she’s marrying and settling down.”
The wistfulness in his voice told Conner he wasn’t very convinced of that, either, but before the conversation could go any further, a tiny brunette—probably only five feet flat and a hundred pounds—marched up, wearing a pair of tight jeans and an even tighter sweater, and helped herself to Josh’s beer.
“There you are,” she said to him. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”
“This is Mary,” Josh said. He took a drink from his beer bottle, since she had his glass, then tipped the mouth of it at a slight angle toward Conner. “Mary, have you met Clive Armstrong’s grandson?”
She shook her head, her smile bright. “This is Conner? I haven’t met him, but I’ve heard a lot about him.”
Conner could only imagine what.
“Congratulations on the coming baby, by the way,” she said. “I didn’t realize you and Delaney even knew each other before you moved to town.”
We didn’t, Conner thought, but he wouldn’t say it. He sensed Mary was probing, and whether Delaney deserved to have the truth catch up with her or not, he refused to leave her vulnerable to the ridicule of this woman or anyone else. “We once met in Boise,” he said, making it sound as though it was some time ago.
“That must have been a memorable meeting,” she said.
Conner smiled. “It was.”
Too memorable, he added mentally.
* * *
“WHAT DO YOU THINK they’re talking about?” Rebecca asked, covertly eyeing Conner and Josh when Billy Joe and Bobby went to the bar to get another drink.
Delaney set down her darts and took a stool, firmly keeping her back to Conner so she wouldn’t be tempted to stare. “Us. They keep glancing over here.” She knew because she caught Conner looking at her whenever she looked at him.
Rebecca bit her lip, and Delaney knew she wanted to smoke, just as she knew Rebecca would never let herself do it while Josh Hill was in the bar.
“I haven’t seen Josh for months and now I seem to run into him everywhere,” she complained.
“Maybe he’s trying to warn Conner about us,” Delaney said.
“No one’s ever warned anyone about you.”
“He’s too late, anyway.”
Rebecca didn’t seem to be listening. “And where there’s Josh, there’s Mary,” she added.
“Beck, you’re really scaring me. You’re getting married in a month, and yet I’m beginning to suspect you have some sort of interest in Josh.”
“Interest?” Rebecca cried. “I have no interest in Josh Hill. I’ve never even liked him. He’s the last person on earth I’d ever get with. I—I don’t even find him attractive.”
Delaney narrowed her eyes. “Okay, I know that’s a big lie.”
Rebecca glowered at her for a moment before answering. “All right, so six feet two inches of lean muscle, a calendar smile and golden-brown skin would be attractive to anyone. But the only feelings I have for him are bad feelings.”
“I don’t know, Beck. Methinks thou dost protest too much.”
“When I was eight, he made me wreck my bicycle and skin both my knees,” she said, as if this unfortunate incident was somehow relevant today.
“So? You paid him back by giving him a fat lip. Besides, that was twenty-three years ago. What’s your point?”
“That I don’t like him any more now than I did then.”
Delaney scrutinized Rebecca’s face. She knew her best friend too well to believe what she was saying, and yet Rebecca was so emphatic about it that Delaney could do nothing but accept her words at face value. “You’re sure, then? About Buddy, I mean?”
Rebecca waved her concern away. “Of course I’m sure.”
“How are you sure?” Delaney pressed.
“What do you mean?” Rebecca picked up her darts and threw a perfect bull’s-eye. “He loves me for who I am. And he…I don’t know.” She threw another dart and hit a ten, which didn’t count for anything. “There’s no pressure. It’s nice.”
“And Josh?” Delaney asked.
Rebecca threw her third dart, which missed the board entirely, bounced off the wall and hit the floor. The two groups playing on either side of them looked up in surprise. Rebecca gave them a glare that told them to mind their own business, and they went back to their respective games. “He and Mary are meant for each other,” she said. “Golden boy marries golden girl. High school quarterback marries high school cheerleader.”
Delaney scooped up her own darts, waited for Rebecca to remove hers from the board, then began to throw. “I hope you’re right—about Buddy, about Josh, about everything,” she said. “Because I’ve got to tell you, I’ve never met anybody as unlucky in love as we are.”
“Did someone say they want to get lucky?” Billy Joe piped up as he and his brother returned, coming in on the end of the conversation.
Bobby wiggled his brows at them. “Ladies, look no farther,” he said, but before Delaney and Rebecca could tell them both to quit dreaming, another man interrupted. A man who hadn’t previously been part of their group.
“Not tonight,” he said, and the sound of his voice made Delaney’s final throw veer off and nearly stab Rebecca. It was Conner. He was standing at their table, holding her coat, which she’d slung over a stool. “Come on, Delaney,” he said. “It’s time to go.”