A Little Bit Country

They exchanged a brief handshake before Luke’s attention slid back to Kate. His eyes softened perceptibly.

“Luke’s like a brother to me,” Kate said fondly.

He frowned at that, but didn’t comment.

“We’re going to let you escort us to the dance tonight,” she informed him.

“What about Clay?”

“Oh, he’ll meet us there. I thought the three of us could go over together.”

Rorie wasn’t fooled. Kate was setting her up with Luke, who didn’t look any too pleased at having his evening arranged for him.

“Kate, listen,” she began, “I’d really rather skip the dance tonight. I’ve never done any square dancing in my life—”

“That doesn’t matter,” Kate interrupted. “Luke will be glad to show you. Won’t you, Luke?”

“Sure,” he mumbled, with the enthusiasm of a man offered the choice between hanging and a firing squad.

“Honestly, Luke!” Kate gave an embarrassed laugh.

“Listen,” Rorie said quickly. “It’s obvious Luke has his own plans for tonight. I don’t want to intrude—”

He surprised her by turning toward her, his eyes searching hers. “I’d be happy to escort you, Rorie.”

“I’m likely to step all over your toes... I really think I should sit the whole thing out.”

“Nonsense,” Kate cried. “Luke won’t let you do that and neither will I!”

“We’ll enjoy ourselves,” the foreman said. “Leave everything to me.”

Rorie nodded reluctantly.

A moment of awkward silence fell over the trio. “Well, I suppose I should get Rorie back to Circle L and see about finding her a dress,” Kate said, smiling. She playfully tossed her car keys in the air and caught them deftly.

Luke tipped his hat when they both returned to the car. Rorie didn’t mention his name until they were back on the road.

“Luke really is attractive, isn’t he?” she asked, closely watching Kate.

The other woman nodded eagerly. “It surprises me that he’s not married. There are plenty of girls around Nightingale who’d be more than willing, believe me. At every Grange dance, the ladies flirt with him like crazy. I love to tease him about it—he really hates that. But I wish Luke would get married—I don’t like the idea of him living his life alone. It’s time he thought about settling down and starting a family. He was thirty last month, but when I said something about it, he nearly bit my head off.”

Rorie nibbled on her lower lip. She inhaled a deep breath and released it slowly. Her guess was that Luke Rivers had his heart set on someone special, and that someone was engaged to another man. God help him, Rorie thought. She knew exactly how he felt.

* * *

The music was already playing by the time Luke, Kate and Rorie arrived at the Grange Hall in Luke’s ten-year-old four-door sedan. Rorie tried to force some enthusiasm for this outing, but had little success. She hadn’t exchanged more than a few words with the foreman during the entire drive. He, apparently, didn’t like this arranged-date business any better than she did. But they were stuck with each other, and Rorie at least was determined to make the best of it.

They entered the hall and were greeted by the cheery voice of the male caller:

Rope the cow, brand the calf

Swing your sweetheart, once and a half...

Rorie hadn’t known what to expect, but she was surprised by the smooth-stepping, smartly dressed dancers who twirled around the floor following the caller’s directions. She felt more daunted than ever by the evening ahead of her. And to worsen matters, Kate had insisted Rorie borrow one of her outfits. Although Rorie liked the bright blue colors, she felt awkward and self-conscious in the billowing skirts.

The Grange itself was bigger than Rorie had anticipated. On the stage stood the caller and several fiddlers. Refreshment tables lined one wall and the polished dance floor was so crowded Rorie wondered how anyone could move without bumping into others. The entire meeting hall was alive with energy and music, and despite herself, she felt her mood lift. Her toes started tapping out rhythms almost of their own accord. Given time, she’d be out there, too, joining the vibrant, laughing dancers. It was unavoidable, anyway. She knew Kate wouldn’t allow her to sit sedately in the background and watch. Neither would Clay and Skip, who’d just arrived.

“Oh, my feet are moving already.” Kate was squirming with eagerness. Clay smiled indulgently, tucked his arm around her waist and the two of them stepped onto the dance floor. He glanced back once at Rorie, before a circle of eight opened up to admit them.

“Shall we?” Luke asked, eyeing the dance floor.

He didn’t sound too enthusiastic and Rorie didn’t blame him. “Would it be all right if we sat out the first couple of dances?” she asked. “I’d like to get more into the swing of things.”

“No problem.”

Luke looked almost grateful for the respite, which didn’t lend Rorie much confidence. No doubt he assumed this city slicker was going to make a fool of herself and of him—and she probably would. When he escorted her to the row of chairs, Rorie made the mistake of sitting down. Instantly her skirts leaped up into her face. Embarrassed, she pushed them down, then tucked the material under her thighs in an effort to tame the layers of stiff petticoats.

“Hello, Luke.” A pretty blonde with sparkling blue eyes sauntered over. “I didn’t know if you’d show tonight or not. Glad you did.”

“Beth Hammond, this is Rorie Campbell.”

Rorie nodded. “It’s nice to meet you, Beth.”

“Oh, I heard about you at the drugstore yesterday. You’re the gal with the broken-down sports car, aren’t you?”

“That’s me.” By now it shouldn’t have surprised Rorie that everyone knew about her troubles.

“I hope everything turns out okay.”

“Thanks.” Although Beth was speaking to Rorie, her eyes didn’t leave Luke. It was patently obvious that she expected an invitation to dance.

“Luke, why don’t you dance with Beth?” Rorie suggested. “That way I’ll gather a few pointers from watching the two of you.”

“What a good idea,” Beth chirped eagerly. “We’ll stay on the outskirts of the crowd so you can see how it’s done. Be sure and listen to Charlie—he’s the caller. Then you’ll see what each step is.”

Rorie nodded agreeably.

Luke gave Rorie a long sober look. “You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

All join hands, circle right around

Stop in place at your hometown...

Studying the dancers, Rorie quickly picked up the terms do se do, allemande left and allemande right and a number of others, which she struggled to keep track of. By the end of the dance, her foot was tapping out the lively beat of the fiddlers’ music and a smile formed as she listened to the perfectly rhyming words.

“Rorie,” Skip said, suddenly standing in front of her. “May I have the pleasure of this dance?”

“I...I don’t think I’m ready yet.”

“Nonsense.” Without listening to her protest, he grabbed her hand and hauled her to her feet.

“Skip, I’ll embarrass you,” she protested in a low whisper. “I’ve never done this before.”

“You’ve got to start sometime.” He tucked his arm around her waist and led her close to the stage.

“We got a newcomer, Charlie,” Skip called out, “so make this one simple.”

Charlie gave Skip a thumbs-up and reached for the microphone. “We’ll go a bit slower this time,” Charlie announced to his happy audience. “Miss Rorie Campbell from San Francisco has joined us and it’s her first time on the floor.”

Rorie wanted to curl up and die as a hundred faces turned to stare at her. But the dancers were shouting and cheering their welcome and Rorie shyly raised her hand, smiling into the crowd.

Getting through that first series of steps was the most difficult, but soon Rorie was in the middle of the floor, stepping and twirling—and laughing. Something she’d always assumed to be a silly, outdated activity turned out to be great fun.

By the time Skip led her back to her chair, she was breathless. “Want some punch?” he asked. Rorie nodded eagerly. Her throat felt parched.

When Skip left her, Luke Rivers appeared at her side. “You did just great,” he said sincerely.

“For a city girl, you mean,” she teased.

“As good as anyone.”

“Thanks.”

“I suspect I owe you an apology, Rorie.”

“Because you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself with me on the dance floor?” she asked with a light laugh. “That’s understandable. Kate and Clay practically threw me in your lap. I’m sure you had other plans for tonight, and I’m sorry for your sake that we got stuck with each other.”

Luke grinned. “Trust me, I’ve had plenty of envious looks from around the room. Any of a dozen different men would be more than happy to be ‘stuck’ with you.”

That went a long way toward boosting her ego. She would have commented, but Skip came back just then carrying a paper cup filled with bright pink punch. A teenage girl was beside him, clutching his free arm and smiling dreamily up at him.

“I’m going to dance with Caroline now, okay?” he said to Rorie.

“That’s fine,” she answered, smiling, “and thank you for braving the dance floor with me.” Skip blushed as he slipped an arm around Caroline’s waist and hurried her off.

“You game?” Luke nodded toward the dancing couples.

Rorie didn’t hesitate. She swallowed the punch in three giant gulps, and gave him her hand. Together they moved onto the crowded floor.

By the end of the third set of dances, Rorie had twirled around with so many different partners, she lost track of them. She’d caught sight of Clay only once, and when he saw her he waved. Returning the gesture, she promptly missed her footing and nearly fell into her partner’s waiting arms. The tall sheriff’s deputy was all too happy to have her throw herself at him and told her as much, to Rorie’s embarrassment.

Although it was only ten o’clock, Rorie was exhausted and so warm the perspiration ran in rivulets down her face and neck. She had to escape. Several times, she’d tried to sit out a dance, but no one would listen to her excuses.

In an effort to catch her breath and cool down, Rorie took advantage of a break between sets to wander outside. The night air was refreshing. Quite a few other people had apparently had the same idea; the field that served as a car park was crowded with groups and strolling couples.

As she made her way through the dimly lit field, she saw a handful of men passing around a flask of whiskey and entertaining each other with off-color jokes. She steered a wide circle around them and headed toward Luke’s parked car, deciding it was far enough away to discourage anyone from following her. In her eagerness to escape, she nearly stumbled over a couple locked in a passionate embrace against the side of a pickup.

Rorie mumbled an apology when the pair glanced up at her, irritation written all over their young faces. Good grief, she’d only wanted a few minutes alone in order to get a breath of fresh air—she hadn’t expected to walk through an obstacle course!

When she finally arrived at Luke Rivers’s car, she leaned on the fender and slowly inhaled the clean country air. All her assumptions about this evening had been wrong. She’d been so sure she’d feel lonely and bored and out of place. And she’d felt none of those things. If she were to tell Dan about the Grange dance, he’d laugh at the idea of having such a grand time with a bunch of what he’d refer to as “country bumpkins.” The thought annoyed her. These were good, friendly, fun-loving people. They’d taken her under their wing, expressed their welcome without reserve, and now they were showing her an uncomplicated lifestyle that had more appeal than Rorie would have believed possible.

“I thought I’d find you out here.”

Rorie’s whole body tensed as she recognized the voice of the man who’d joined her.

“Hello, Clay.”

Eight

Rorie injected a cheerful note into her voice. She turned around, half expecting Kate to be with him. The two had been inseparable from the minute Clay had arrived. It was just as well that Kate was around, since her presence prevented Clay and Rorie from giving in to any temptation.

Clay’s hands settled on her shoulders and Rorie flinched involuntarily at his touch. With noticeable regret, Clay dropped his hands.

“Are you having a good time?” he asked.

She nodded. “I didn’t think I would, which tells you how prejudiced I’ve been about country life, but I’ve been pleasantly surprised.”

“I’m glad.” His hands clenched briefly at his sides, then he flexed his fingers a couple of times. “I would’ve danced with you myself, but—”

She stopped him abruptly. “Clay, no. Don’t explain...it isn’t necessary. I understand.”

His eyes held hers with such tenderness that she had to look away. The magical quality was in the air again—Rorie could feel it as forcefully as if the stars had spelled it out across the heavens.

“I don’t think you do understand, Rorie,” Clay said, “but it doesn’t matter. You’ll be gone in a couple of days and both our lives will go back to the way they were meant to be.”

Rorie agreed with a quick nod. It was too tempting, standing in the moonlight with Clay. Much too tempting. The memory of another night in which they’d stood and gazed at the stars returned with powerful intensity. Rorie realized that even talking to each other, alone like this, was dangerous.

“Won’t Kate be looking for you?” she asked carefully.

“No. Luke Rivers is dancing with her.”

For a moment she closed her eyes, not daring to look up at Clay. “I guess I’ll be going inside now. I just came out to catch my breath and cool down a little.”

“Dance with me first—here in the moonlight.”

A protest rose within her, but the instant Clay slid his arms around her waist, Rorie felt herself give in. Kate would have him the rest of her life, but Rorie only had these few hours. Almost against her will, her hands found his shoulders, slipping around his neck with an ease that brought a sigh of pleasure to her lips. Being held by Clay shouldn’t feel this good.

“Oh, Rorie,” he moaned as she settled into his embrace.

They fitted together as if they’d been created for each other. His chin touched the top of her head and he caressed her hair with his jaw.

“This is a mistake,” Rorie murmured, closing her eyes, savoring the warm, secure feel of his arms.

“I know...”

But neither seemed willing to release the other.

His mouth grazed her temple and he kissed her there. “God help me, Rorie, what am I going to do? I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I can’t sleep, I hardly eat...” His voice was raw, almost savage.

“Oh, please,” she said with a soft cry. “We can’t...we mustn’t even talk like this.” His gray eyes smoldered above hers, and their breaths merged as his mouth hovered so close to her own.

“I vowed I wouldn’t touch you again.”

Rorie looked away. She’d made the same promise to herself. But it wasn’t in her to deny him now, although her mind searched frantically for the words to convince him how wrong they were to risk hurting Kate—and each other.

His hands drifted up from her shoulders, his fingertips skimming the sides of her neck, trailing over her cheeks and through the softness of her hair. He placed his index finger over her lips, gently stroking them apart.

Rorie moaned. She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. Clay’s left hand dug into her shoulders as her tongue caressed the length of his finger, drawing it into her mouth and sucking it gently. She needed him so much in that moment, she could have wept.

“Just this once...for these few minutes,” he pleaded, “let me pretend you’re mine.” His hands cupped her face and slowly brought her mouth to his, smothering her whimper of part welcome, part protest.

A long series of kisses followed. Deep, relentless, searching kisses that sent her heart soaring. Kisses that only made the coming loneliness more painful. A sob swelled within her and tears burned her eyes as she twisted away and tore her mouth from his.

“No,” she cried, covering her face with her hands and turning her back to him. “Please, Clay. We shouldn’t be doing this.”

He was silent for so long that Rorie suspected he’d left her. She inhaled a deep, calming breath and dropped her hands limply to her sides.

“It would be so easy to love you, Rorie.”

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head vigorously as she faced him again. “I’m not the right person for you—it’s too late for that. You’ve got Kate.” She couldn’t keep the pain out of her voice. Anything between them was hopeless, futile. Within a day or two her car would be repaired and she’d vanish from his life as suddenly as she’d appeared.

Clay fell silent, his shoulders stiff and resolute as he stood silhouetted against the light of the Grange Hall. His face was masked by shadows and Rorie couldn’t read his thoughts. He drew in a harsh breath.

“You’re right, Rorie. We can’t allow this...attraction between us to get out of hand. I promise you, by all I hold dear, that I won’t kiss you again.”

“I’ll...do my part, too,” she assured him, feeling better now that they’d made this agreement.

His hand reached for hers and clasped it warmly. “Come on, I’ll walk you back to the hall. We’re going to be all right. We’ll do what we have to do.”

Clay’s tone told her he meant it. Relieved, Rorie silently made the same promise to herself.

* * *

Rorie slept late the next morning, later than she would have thought possible. Mary was busy with lunch preparations by the time she made her way downstairs.

“Did you enjoy yourself last night?” Mary immediately asked.

In response, Rorie curtsied and danced a few steps with an imaginary partner, clapping her hands.

Mary tried to hide a smile at Rorie’s antics. “Oh, get away with you now. All I was looking for was a yes or a no.”

“I had a great time.”

“It was nothing like those city hotspots, I’ll wager.”

“You’re right about that,” Rorie told her, pouring herself a cup of coffee.

“You seeing Kate today?”

Rorie shook her head and popped a piece of bread in the toaster. “She’s got a doctor’s appointment this morning and a teachers’ meeting this afternoon. She’s going to stop by later if she has a chance, but if not I’ll be seeing her for sure tomorrow.” Rorie intended to spend as much time as she could with Clay’s fiancée. She genuinely enjoyed her company, and being with her served two useful purposes. It helped keep Rorie occupied, and it prevented her from being alone with Clay.

“What are you going to do today, then?” Mary asked, frowning.

Rorie laughed. “Don’t worry. Whatever it is, I promise to stay out of your way.”

The housekeeper gave a snort of amusement—or was it relief?

“Actually, I thought I’d finish putting the data Clay needs for his pedigree-research program into the computer. There isn’t much left and I should be done by this afternoon.”

“So if someone comes looking for you, that’s where you’ll be?”

“That’s where I’ll be,” Rorie echoed. She didn’t know who would “come looking for her,” as Mary put it. The housekeeper made it sound as though a posse was due to arrive any minute demanding to know where the Franklin men were hiding Rorie Campbell.

Taking her coffee cup with her, Rorie walked across the yard and into the barn. Once more, she was impressed with all the activity that went on there. She’d come to know several of the men by their first names and returned their greetings with a smile and a wave.

As before, she found the office empty. She set down her cup while she turned on the computer and collected Clay’s data. She’d just started to type it in when she heard someone enter the room. Pausing, she twisted around.

“Rorie.”

“Clay.”

They were awkward with each other now. Almost afraid.

“I didn’t realize you were here.”

She stood abruptly. “I’ll leave...”

“No. I came up to get something. I’ll be gone in a minute.”

She nodded and sat back down. “Okay.”

He walked briskly to his desk and sifted through the untidy stacks of paper. His gaze didn’t waver from the task, but his jaw was tight, his teeth clenched. Impatience marked his every move. “Kate told me you’re involved with a man in San Francisco. I...didn’t know.”

“I’m not exactly involved with him—at least not in the way you’re implying. His name is Dan Rogers, and we’ve been seeing each other for about six months. He’s divorced. The MG is his.”

Clay’s mouth thinned, but he still didn’t look at her. “Are you in love with him?”

“No.”

Lowering his head, Clay rubbed his hand over his eyes. “I had no right to ask you that. None. Forgive me, Rorie.” Then, clutching his papers, he stalked out of the office without a backward glance.

Rorie was so shaken by the encounter that when she went back to her typing, she made three mistakes in a row and had to stop to regain her composure.

When the phone rang, she ignored it, knowing Mary or one of the men would answer it. Soon afterward, she heard running footsteps behind her and swivelled around in the chair.

A breathless Skip bolted into the room. Shoulders heaving, he pointed in the direction of the telephone. “It’s for you,” he panted.

“Me?” It could only be Dan.

He nodded several times, his hand braced theatrically against his heart.

She picked up the extension. “Hello,” she said, her fingers closing tightly around the receiver. “This is Rorie Campbell.”

“Miss Campbell,” came the unmistakable voice of George, the mechanic in Riversdale, “let me put it to you like this. I’ve got good news and bad news.”

“Now what?” she cried, pushing her hair off her forehead with an impatient hand. She had to get out of Elk Run.

“My man picked up the water pump for your car in Portland just like we planned.”

“Good.”

George sighed heavily. “There’s a minor problem, though.”

“Minor?” she repeated hopefully.

“Well, not that minor actually.”

“Oh, great... Listen, George, I’d prefer not to play guessing games with you. Just tell me what happened and how long it’s going to be before I can get out of here.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Campbell, but they shipped the wrong part. It’ll be two, possibly three more days.”

Nine

“What’s the matter?” Skip asked when Rorie indignantly replaced the receiver.

She crossed her arms over her chest and breathed deeply, battling down the angry frustration that boiled inside her. The problem wasn’t George’s fault, or Skip’s, or Kate’s, or anyone else’s.

“Rorie?” Skip asked again.

“They shipped the wrong part for the car,” she said flatly. “I’m going to be stuck here for another two or possibly three days.”

Skip didn’t look the least bit perturbed at this information. “Gee, Rorie, that’s not so terrible. We like having you around—and you like it here, don’t you?”

“Yes, but...” How could she explain that her reservations had nothing to do with their company, the farm or even with country life? She couldn’t very well blurt out that she was falling in love with his brother, that she had to escape before she ruined their lives.

“But what?” Skip asked.

“My vacation.”

“I know you had other plans, but you can relax and enjoy yourself here just as well, can’t you?”

She didn’t attempt to answer him, but closed her eyes and nodded, faintly.

“Well, listen, I’ve got to get back to work. Do you need me for anything?”

She shook her head. When the office door closed, Rorie sat down in front of the computer again and poised her fingers over the keyboard. She sat like that, unmoving, for several minutes as her thoughts churned. What was she going to do? Every time she came near Clay the attraction was so strong that trying to ignore it was like swimming upstream. Rorie had planned on leaving Elk Run the following day. Now she was trapped here for God only knew how much longer.