Summertime Dreams: A Little Bit Country / The Bachelor Prince

“Clay got your car here without a hitch, so don’t worry about that—he saved you a bundle on towing charges. Shipping costs and long-distance phone bills are going to be plenty high, though.”

Rorie hadn’t even noticed that Dan’s shiny sports car wasn’t in the yard where Skip had originally left it. “So you’ll be calling me within the next day or two?” she asked, trying to hide the anxiety in her voice. And trying not to consider the state of her finances, already depleted by this disastrous vacation.

“Right. I’ll call as soon as it comes in.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it,” she said again.

“No problem,” the mechanic muttered, obviously eager to end their conversation.

When the call was finished, Rorie toyed with the idea of phoning Dan next. She’d been half expecting to hear from him, since she’d left the Franklins’ number with his secretary the day before. He hadn’t phoned her back. But there was nothing new to tell him, so she decided not to call a second time.

Hesitantly Rorie replaced the telephone receiver, pleased that everything was under control—everything except her heart.

* * *

Dinner that evening was a strained affair. If it hadn’t been for Skip, who seemed oblivious to the tension between her and Clay, Rorie didn’t think she could have endured it. Clay hardly said a word throughout the meal. But Skip seemed more than eager to carry the conversation and Rorie did her best to lighten the mood, wondering all the time whether Clay saw through her facade.

“While you’re here, Rorie,” Skip said with a sudden burst of enthusiasm, “you should learn how to ride.”

“No, thank you,” she said pointedly, holding up her hand, as though fending off the suggestion. An introduction to King and Hercules was as far as she was willing to go.

“Rain Magic would suit you nicely.”

“Rain Magic?”

“That’s a silly name Kate thought up, and Clay went along with it,” Skip explained. “He’s gentle, but smart—the gelding I mean, not Clay.” The younger Franklin laughed heartily at his own attempt at humor.

Clay smiled, but Rorie wasn’t fooled; he hadn’t been amused by the joke, nor, she suspected, was he pleased by the reference to Kate.

“No, thanks, Skip,” she said, hoping to bring the subject to a close. “I’m really not interested.” There, that said it plainly enough.

“Are you afraid?”

“A little,” she admitted truthfully. “I prefer my horses on a merry-go-round. I’m a city girl, remember?”

“But even girls from San Francisco have been known to climb on the back of a horse. It’ll be good for you, Rorie. Trust me—it’s time to broaden your horizons.”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” she told him, emphasizing her point by biting down on a crisp carrot stick with a loud crunch.

“Rorie, I insist. You aren’t going to get hurt—I wouldn’t let that happen, and Rain Magic is as gentle as they come. In fact—” he wiggled his eyebrows up and down “—if you want, we can ride double until you feel more secure.”

Rorie laughed. “Skip, honestly.”

“All right, you can ride alone, and I’ll lead you around in a circle. For as long as you want.”

Rorie shook her head and, amused at the mental picture that scenario presented, laughed again.

“Leave it,” Clay said with sudden sharpness. “If Rorie doesn’t want to ride, drop it, okay?”

Skip’s shocked gaze flew from Rorie to his brother. “I was just having fun, Clay.”

His older brother gripped his water goblet so hard Rorie thought the glass might shatter. “Enough is enough. She said she wasn’t interested and that should be the end of it.”

The astounded look left Skip’s features, but his eyes narrowed and he stiffened his shoulders in a display of righteous indignation. “What’s with you, Clay?” he shouted. “You’ve been acting like a wounded bear all day, growling at everyone. Who made you king of the universe all of a sudden?”

“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll bring in the apple crisp,” Rorie said, and hurriedly rose to her feet, not wanting to be caught in the cross fire between the two brothers. Whatever they had to say wasn’t meant for her ears.

The exchange that followed ended quickly, Rorie noted gratefully from inside the kitchen. Their voices were raised and then there was a hush followed by laughter. Rorie relaxed and picked up the dessert, carrying it into the dining room along with a carton of vanilla ice cream.

“I apologize, Rorie,” Clay said soberly when she reentered the room. “Skip’s right, I’ve been cross and unreasonable all day. I hope my sour mood hasn’t ruined your dinner.”

“Of course not,” she murmured, giving him a smile.

Clay stood up to serve the dessert, spooning generous helpings of apple crisp and ice cream into each bowl.

Skip chattered aimlessly, commenting on one subject and then bouncing to another without any logical connection, his thoughts darting this way and that.

“What time are you going over to Kate’s tonight?” he casually asked Clay.

“I won’t be. She’s got some meeting with the women’s group from the Grange. They’re decorating for the dance tomorrow night.”

“Now that you mention it, I seem to remember Kate saying something about being busy tonight.” Without a pause he turned to Rorie. “You’ll be coming, I hope. The Grange is putting on a square dance—the biggest one of the year, and they usually do it up good.”

“Kate already invited me. I’ll be going with her,” Rorie explained, although she hadn’t the slightest idea how to square dance. Generally she enjoyed dancing, although she hadn’t gone for several months because Dan wasn’t keen on it.

“You could drive there with us if you wanted,” Skip offered. “I’d kinda like to walk in there with you on my arm. You’d cause quite a stir with the men, especially Luke Rivers—he’s the foreman at the Logan place. Most girls go all goo-goo-eyed over him.”

Clay’s spoon clanged loudly against the side of his glass dish and he murmured an apology.

“I’m sorry, Skip,” Rorie said gently. “I told Kate I’d drive over with her.”

“Darn,” Skip muttered.

The meal was completed in silence. Once, when Rorie happened to glance up, her eyes met Clay’s. Her heart felt as though it might hammer its way out of her chest. She was oppressively aware of the chemistry between them. It simmered in Rorie’s veins and she could tell that Clay felt everything she did. Throughout dinner, she’d been all too conscious of the swift stolen glances Clay had sent in her direction. She’d sent a few of her own, though she’d tried hard not to. But it was impossible to be in the same room with this man and not react to him.

A thousand times in the next couple of hours, Rorie told herself that everything would be fine as soon as she could leave. Life would return to normal then.

When the dishes were finished, Skip challenged her to a game of cribbage, and grateful for the escape Rorie accepted. Skip sat with his back to his brother, and every time Rorie played her hand, she found her eyes wandering across the room to where Clay sat reading. To all outward appearances, he was relaxed and comfortable, but she knew he felt as tense as she did. She knew he was equally aware of the electricity that sparked between them.

Rorie’s fingers shook as she counted out her cards.

“Fifteen eight,” Skip corrected. “You forgot two points.”

Her eyes fell to the extra ten, and she blinked. “I guess I did.”

Skip heaved a sigh. “I don’t think your mind’s on the game tonight.”

“I guess not,” she admitted wryly. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go up to bed.” She threw him an apologetic smile and reached for her coffee cup. Skip was right; her mind hadn’t been on the game at all. Instead, her thoughts had been on a man who owed his loyalties to another woman—a woman whose roots were intricately bound with his. A woman Rorie had liked and respected from the moment they met.

Feeling depressed, she bade the two men good-night and carried her cup to the kitchen. Dutifully, she rinsed it out and set it beside the sink, but when she turned around Clay was standing in the doorway, blocking her exit.

“Where’s Skip?” she asked a little breathlessly. Heat seemed to throb between them and she retreated a step in a futile effort to escape.

“He went upstairs.”

She blinked and faked a yawn. “I was headed in that direction myself.”

Clay buried one hand in his jeans pocket. “Do you know what happened tonight at dinner?”

Not finding her voice, Rorie shook her head.

“I was jealous,” he said from between clenched teeth. “You were laughing and joking with Skip and I wanted it to be me your eyes were shining for. Me. No one else.” He stopped abruptly and shook his head. “Jealous of a seventeen-year-old boy... I can’t believe it myself.”

Seven

Rorie decided to wear a dress for her outing with Kate Logan. Although she rose early, both Skip and Clay had eaten breakfast and left the house by the time she came downstairs. Which was just as well, Rorie thought.

Mary stood at the stove, frying chunks of beef for a luncheon stew. “I spoke to Clay about your cooking dinner later this week. He says that’ll be fine if you’re still around, but the way he sees it, you’ll be on your way in a day or two.”

Rorie poured herself a cup of coffee. “I’ll be happy to do it if I’m here. Otherwise, I’m sure Kate Logan would be more than pleased.”

Mary turned to face her, mouth open as if to comment. Instead her eyes widened in appreciation. “My, my, you look pretty enough to hog-tie a man’s heart.”

“Thank you, Mary,” Rorie answered, grinning.

“I suppose you got yourself a sweetheart back there in San Francisco?” she asked, watching her closely. “A pretty girl like you is bound to attract plenty of men.”

Rorie paused to think about her answer. She briefly considered mentioning Dan, but decided against it. She’d planned this separation to gain a perspective on their relationship. And within hours of arriving at Elk Run, Rorie had found her answer. Dan would always be a special friend—but nothing more.

“The question shouldn’t require a week’s thought,” Mary grumbled, stirring the large pot of simmering beef.

“Sorry...I was mulling something over.”

“Then there is someone?”

She shook her head. “No.”

The answer didn’t seem to please Mary, because she frowned. “When did you say that fancy car of yours was going to be fixed?”

The abrupt question caught Rorie by surprise. Mary was openly concerned about the attraction between her and Clay. The housekeeper, who probably knew Clay as well as anyone did, clearly wasn’t blind to what had been happening—and just as clearly didn’t like it.

“The mechanic in Riversdale said it should be finished the day after tomorrow if all goes well.”

“Good!” Mary proclaimed with a fierce nod, then turned back to her stew.

Rorie couldn’t help smiling at the older woman’s astuteness. Mary was telling her that the sooner she was off Elk Run the better for everyone concerned. Rorie had to agree.

Kate Logan arrived promptly at ten. She wore tight-fitting jeans, red checkered western shirt and a white silk scarf knotted at her throat. Her long honey-colored hair was woven into thick braids that fell over her shoulders. At first glance, Kate looked closer to sixteen than the twenty-four Rorie knew her to be.

Kate greeted her with a warm smile. “Rorie, there wasn’t any need to wear something so nice. I should’ve told you to dress casually.”

Rorie’s shoulders slumped. “I brought along more dresses than jeans. Am I overdressed? I could change,” she said hesitantly.

“Oh, no, you look lovely...” But for the first time, Kate seemed worried. The doubt that played across her features would have been amusing if Rorie hadn’t already been suffering from such a potent bout of guilt. It was all too obvious that Kate viewed Rorie as a threat.

If Clay Franklin had chosen that moment to walk into the kitchen, Rorie would’ve called him every foul name she could think of. She was furious with him for doing this to her—and to Kate.

“I wear a lot of dresses because of my job at the library,” Rorie rushed to explain. “I also date quite a bit. I’ve been seeing someone—Dan Rogers—for a while now. In fact, it’s his car I was driving.”

“You’re dating someone special?” Kate asked, sounding relieved.

“Yes, Dan and I’ve been going out for several months.”

Mary coughed noisily and sent Rorie an accusing glare; Rorie ignored her. “Shouldn’t we be leaving?”

“Oh, sure, any time you’re ready.” When they were outside, Kate turned to face Rorie. Looking uncomfortable, she slipped her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “I’ve embarrassed you and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that I didn’t trust you and Clay.”

“There’s no need for an apology. I’m sure I wouldn’t react any differently if Clay was my fiancé.”

Kate shook her head. “But I feel as if I should apologize. I’m not going to be the kind of wife Clay wants if I can’t trust him around a pretty girl once in a while.”

Had the earth cracked open just then, Rorie would gladly have fallen in. That had to be preferable to looking at Kate and feeling the things she did about Clay Franklin.

“Don’t have any worries about me,” she said, dismissing the issue as nonchalantly as she could. “I’ll be out of everyone’s hair in a day or two.”

“Oh, Rorie, please, I don’t want you to rush off because I had a silly attack of jealousy. Now I feel terrible.”

“Don’t, please. I have to leave... I want to leave. My vacation’s on hold until I can get my car repaired and there’s so much I’d planned to see and do.” She dug in her bag for a brochure. “Have you ever been up to Victoria on Vancouver Island?”

“Once, but I was only five, too young to remember much of anything,” Kate told her, scanning the pamphlet. “This does sound like fun. Maybe this is where Clay and I should have our honeymoon.”

“It’d be perfect for that,” Rorie murmured. Her heart constricted with a sudden flash of pain, but she ruthlessly forced down her emotions, praying Kate hadn’t noticed. “I’m looking forward to visiting Canada. By the way, Mary’s driving to Riversdale to visit her sister later in the week. She’s asked me to take charge of cooking dinner if I’m still here. Would you like to help? We could have a good time and really get to know each other.”

“Oh, that would be great.” Kate slipped her arm around Rorie’s waist and gave her an enthusiastic squeeze. “Thank you, Rorie. I know you’re trying to reassure me, and I appreciate it.”

That had been exactly Rorie’s intent.

“It probably sounds selfish,” Kate continued, “but I’m glad your car broke down when it did. Without any difficulty at all, I can see us becoming the best of friends.”

Rorie could, too, but that only added to her growing sense of uneasiness.

* * *

Nightingale was a sleepy kind of town. Businesses lined both sides of Main Street, with a beauty shop, an insurance agency, Nellie’s Café and a service station on one side, a grocery store, pharmacy and five-and-dime on the other. Rorie had the impression that things happened in their own time in Nightingale, Oregon. Few places could have been more unlike San Francisco, where people always seemed to be rushing. Here, no one seemed to feel any need to hurry. It was as though this town, with its population of fifteen hundred, existed in a time warp. Rorie found the relaxed pace unexpectedly pleasant.

“The library is across from the high school on Maple Street,” Kate explained as she parked her Ford on Main. “That way, students have easy access.”

Rorie climbed out of the car, automatically pressing down the door lock.

“You don’t have to do that here. There hasn’t been a vehicle stolen in...oh, at least twenty years.”

Rorie’s eyes must have revealed her surprise, because Kate went on, “Actually, we had trouble passing our last bond issue for a new patrol car. People couldn’t see the need since there hasn’t been a felony committed in over two years. About the worst thing that goes on is when Harry Ackerman gets drunk. That happens once or twice a year and he’s arrested for disturbing the peace.” She grinned sheepishly. “He sings old love songs to Nellie at the top of his lungs in front of the café. They were apparently sweet on each other a long time back. Nellie married someone else and Harry never got over the loss of his one true love.”

Looping the strap of her bag over her shoulder, Rorie looked around the quiet streets.

“The fire and police station are in the same building,” Kate pointed out next. “And there’s a really nice restaurant on Oak. If you want, we could have lunch there.”

“Only if you let me treat.”

“I wouldn’t hear of it,” Kate said with a shake of her head that sent her braids flying. “You’re my guest.”

Rorie decided not to argue, asking another question instead. “Where do the ranchers get their supplies?” It seemed to her that type of store would do a thriving business, yet she hadn’t seen one.

“At Garner’s Feed and Supply. It’s on the outskirts of town—I’ll take you past on the way out. In fact, we should take a driving tour so you can see a little more of Nightingale. Main Street is only a small part of it.”

By the time Kate and Rorie walked over to Maple and the library, Rorie’s head was swimming with the names of all the people Kate had insisted on introducing. It seemed everyone had heard about her car problems and was eager to talk to her. Several mentioned the Grange dance that night and said they’d be looking for her there.

“You’re really going to be impressed with the library,” Kate promised as they walked the two streets over to Maple. “Dad and the others worked hard to get the levy passed so we could build it. People here tend to be tightfisted. Dad says they squeeze a nickel so hard, the buffalo belches.”

Rorie laughed outright at that.

The library was the largest building in town, a sprawling one-story structure with lots of windows. The hours were posted on the double glass doors, and Rorie noted that the library wouldn’t open until the middle of the afternoon, still several hours away.

“It doesn’t seem to be open,” she said, disappointed.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ve got a key. All the volunteers do.” Kate rummaged in her bag and took out a large key ring. She opened the door, pushing it wide for Rorie to enter first.

“Mrs. Halldorfson retired last year, a month after the building was finished,” Kate told her, flipping on the lights, “and the town’s budget wouldn’t stretch to hire a new full-time librarian. So a number of parents and teachers are taking turns volunteering. We’ve got a workable schedule, unless someone goes on vacation, which, I hate to admit, has been happening all summer.”

“You don’t have a full-time librarian?” Rorie couldn’t disguise her astonishment. “Why go to all the trouble and expense of building a modern facility if you can’t afford a librarian?”

“You’ll have to ask Town Council that,” Kate returned, shrugging. “It doesn’t make much sense, does it? But you see, Mrs. Halldorfson was only part-time and the Council seems to think that’s what her replacement should be.”

“That doesn’t make sense, either.”

“Especially when you consider that the new library is twice the size of the old one.”

Rorie had to bite her tongue to keep from saying more. But she was appalled at the waste, the missed opportunities.

“We’ve been advertising for months for a part-time librarian, but so far we haven’t found anyone interested. Not that I blame them—one look at the size of the job and no one wants to tackle it alone.”

“A library is more than a place to check books in and out,” Rorie said, gesturing dramatically. Her voice rose despite herself. This was an issue close to her heart, and polite silence was practically impossible. “A library can be the heart of a community. It can be a place for classes, community services, all kinds of things. Don’t non-profit organizations use it for meetings?”

“I’m afraid not,” Kate answered. “Everyone gets together at Nellie’s when there’s any kind of meeting. Nellie serves great pies,” she added, as though that explained everything.

Realizing that she’d climbed onto her soapbox, Rorie dropped her hands and shrugged. “It’s a very nice building, Kate, and you have every reason to be proud. I didn’t mean to sound so righteous.”

“But you’re absolutely correct,” Kate said thoughtfully. “We’re not using the library to its full potential, are we? Volunteers can only do so much. As it is, the library’s only open three afternoons a week.” She sighed expressively. “To be honest, I think Dad and the other members of the Town Council are expecting Mrs. Halldorfson to come back in the fall, but that’s unfair to her. She’s served the community for over twenty years. She deserves to retire in peace without being blackmailed into coming back because we can’t find a replacement.”

“Well, I hope you find someone soon.”

“I hope so, too,” Kate murmured.

They ate a leisurely lunch, and as she’d promised, Kate gave Rorie a tour of the town. After showing her several churches, the elementary school where she taught second grade and some of the nicer homes on the hill, Kate ended the tour on the outskirts of town near Garner’s Feed and Supply.

“Luke’s here,” Kate said, easing into the parking place next to a dusty pickup truck.

“Luke?”

“Our foreman. I don’t know what Dad would do without him. He runs the ranch and has for years—ever since I was in high school. Dad’s retirement age now, and he’s more than willing to let Luke take charge.”

Kate got out of the car and leaned against the front fender, crossing her arms over her chest. Rorie joined her.

“He’ll be out in a minute,” Kate said.

True to her word, a tall, deeply tanned man appeared with a sack of grain slung over his shoulder. His eyes were so dark they gleamed like onyx, taking in everything around him, but revealing little of his own thoughts. His strong square chin was balanced by a high intelligent brow. He was lean and muscular and strikingly handsome.

“Need any help, stranger?” Kate asked with a laugh.

“You offering?”

“Nope.”

Luke chuckled. “That’s what I figured. You wouldn’t want to ruin those pretty nails of yours now, would you?”

“I didn’t stop by to be insulted by you,” Kate chastised, clearly enjoying the exchange. “I wanted you to meet Rorie Campbell—she’s the one Clay was telling us about the other night, whose car broke down.”

“I remember.” For the first time the foreman’s gaze left Kate. He tossed the sack of grain into the back of the truck and used his teeth to tug his glove free from his right hand. Then he presented his long callused fingers to Rorie. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

“The pleasure’s mine.” Rorie remembered where she’d heard the name. Skip had mentioned Luke Rivers when he’d told her about the Grange square dance. He’d said something about all the girls being attracted to the foreman. Rorie could understand why.

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.