Jaybo Dillon raised his glass to his fellow diners. “As usual, Carmela has outdone herself.”
“Let’s not forget Raoul,” Ben Senior said. “He’s our grill wizard. And where would this meal be without the fine wines from Saguaro Valley Winery?” He raised his glass, then turned first to Martha Dillon on his right, then Maggie on his left, clinking their glasses in toast.
They dined on grilled lamb from the farm and side dishes of chipotle mashed sweet potatoes, caramelized onions, glazed Hakurei turnips, and radish salsa. Carmela had also made a greens soufflé for Ben, the vegetarian, and her special miniburgers and sweet potato french fries for Emma. The wines, all selected to complement the meal, were crisp and delicious.
Cambridge and Boston had amazing restaurants, but Lang could not recall when he had had a better meal. Of course, it was also the company, seated as he was between Maggie and Beth, and across from Ben, Ruthie, and Harley. Rose sat next to her father, who sat at Leonora Morgan’s left, and Emma was on her grandmother’s right, reveling in every minute. Emma loved dinners at the big house. If she got bored, she would retreat to the kitchen with Carmela, but tonight, she sat watching and listening to the handsome stranger, who seemed very interested in her aunt Beth.
“He’s a sly one,” Harley whispered to Ruthie as he watched Lang converse with Beth and Maggie, both of them hanging on his every word.
“I think he’s gorgeous,” Ruthie whispered, smiling across the table at Lang.
Leonora Morgan hated to be left out of conversations happening at her dinner table. As she observed the pockets of hushed conversations, she decided action was needed. “So, Lang, darlin’. You’re a sight for sore eyes. How long are we gonna get to keep you in Saguaro? I know I’d like to see lots more of you.”
“Not long, I’m ’fraid. About ten days. Then I’ve got to head back. The business doesn’t run on its own.”
“Is it shut down this week, then?” Harley asked.
Surprised at the challenge in the cowboy’s tone, he laughed. “Hardly. I have great employees, and it’s an online business so I can do a lot from here.” What did he remember about Harley Langdon? Ben Morgan’s buddy. Athlete. Got all the girls. Cocky as hell?
“Don’t get your hands dirty typing on computers.”
“Oh, Harley, you’re such a dinosaur.” Ruthie rolled her eyes and poked him.
“You’re right,” Lang replied, grinning. “But I find ways to get dirty. Love hiking, and I sell high-tech sporting equipment, so we’re out all the time testing gear.”
“Do you make riding gear?” Maggie asked.
“Not yet, but funny you should ask. We get a lot of calls for riding gear. In fact. we have designers workin’ on this right now. Our company, Rambler Sports, sells other companies’ products, but our best sellers are our own designs. We’re hoping the riding equipment will be a new niche for us. I’d love to pick your brain while I’m here. Come down to the stables, see what you’re using, hear about your needs.”
“Anytime,” Ben said, forestalling what he feared might be a less than welcoming remark from his partner. What was Harley’s beef with Dillon, anyway? Seemed like a nice enough guy, and at least he was distracting Beth from her heartache.
Ruthie gave Lang her sweetest smile. “We’d would love to have you come out to the farm, wouldn’t we, Bethie?”
“Of course,” Beth said.
Deer in the headlights, Lang thought, watching Beth. She’s drifted off again. Impulsively, he reached under the tablecloth and took her hand. He was surprised when, instead of withdrawing, she wrapped her slender fingers around his and held on.
Like the rest of her body, Beth’s hand was icy cold. Lang’s warmth coursed through her like a heat wave, and she almost cried with gratitude at his gesture of kindness. The rest of the table remained oblivious to the hand-holding, except for both Bens. Father and son had been watching daughter and sister when Lang’s hand disappeared under the table. The change in Beth’s demeanor surprised them. She seemed to relax rather than stiffen. While they were both glad for the comfort Lang seemed to bring her, each in his own way, feared for her vulnerable heart. Lang Dillon would be leaving town in less than two weeks, and neither father nor son wished to see a broken heart left behind.
As Carmela served dessert—her specialty, a caramel flan—the talk turned to the upcoming Valley Fair in two weeks. One of Arizona’s largest, most popular county fairs, it drew people from hundreds of miles away. Many of the ranch’s animals were shown. The wranglers and the young riders who took lessons from Maggie and her assistant, Jeb Barnes, were out in full regalia. It was the Valley’s biggest event of the year.
“Lang, you can’t leave before the fair,” Ruthie said.
Leonora frowned at her youngest. “Ruthie, please don’t wave your spoon around with food on it. She’s right, though, Lang, darlin’. What’s a couple more days? It’s the weekend after next.”
“Not sure, Mrs. Morgan. Lot of stuff waiting for me at home.”
“Call me Leonora, please!”
“Nora, leave the boy alone,” Ben Senior said, smiling at his wife.
Beth listened, wondering whether some of what was waiting at home was a girlfriend, fiancée, or significant other. Slowly, sadly, she withdrew her hand and picked up her dessert spoon. As if sensing the change in their interaction, Lang moved closer, his thigh resting against hers. She did not move away.
Later, as the Dillons said goodnight to their hosts, Lang found Beth in the kitchen. “Hey, wanted to say goodnight. Pick you up at seven tomorrow night?”
“I don’t know, Lang. I’m not, you’re not…” She was sputtering, groping for what she wanted to say. Every fiber of her being longed to go out with him, to lose herself in his arms, in his kiss, in his sky-blue eyes. But at the same time, warning bells clanged. He’s leaving. He’s trouble. He’s probably engaged back home. Don’t get any closer.
“It’s dinner, Beth. Not a marriage proposal. Just a friendly dinner. I don’t know many people in the Valley, and I would like to think we could be friends, okay?”
“Fine. See you at seven.”
“Good night, then.” He leaned forward and kissed her cheek, leaving hot, searing fire in his wake. At that moment, Carmela appeared with a tray of dishes and found Beth blushing crimson as the handsome Dillon son made his exit. The wise cook smiled and said a silent prayer for the two, who were, in her opinion, made for each other.