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“Trust me. That would serve everyone well.”
“Come on then,” he said grudgingly. “I won’t deny I could use the help.”
She followed him into the massive barn that housed all sorts of tack, saddles and harnesses. Bales of hay were stacked in a maze, so high that she couldn’t see where they were going. Hovering above the smell of leather and hay, the strong aroma of brewing coffee teased her nostrils. The air was warm and sticky, and hot coffee was the last thing that should appeal to her, but her mouth watered.
“The booths really aren’t hard to put up,” Clint said as he led her to a small shed tucked in the corner of the barn. “We don’t care about them being too fancy. It’s a simple frame with a canvas roof, enough for some shade.”
“I’m surprised you don’t keep everything ready to assemble each year.”
“Normally we do, but the storage shed leaked last fall and most of the boards and two-by-fours suffered too much water rot.” He pulled on a string and a bare light-bulb flooded the small area with light. “Let’s see, we need nails, hammers, a staple gun…”
Dory had stepped inside with him before she realized what little space was allowed by the floor-to-ceiling shelves and two large generators. She’d started backing out when he turned to her, his arm brushing her breast, his face so close to her face that his breath mingled with hers.
“Sorry,” she murmured, bumping into the door frame behind her.
“My fault,” he said, but didn’t sound the least bit apologetic. His gaze lowered to her mouth. Automatically she moistened her lips. “If you’ve changed your mind and would rather take that shower, I won’t hold it against you.”
Was that a hint? She sniffed. Oh, God, she’d been sweating like a pig earlier.
“No, no, that’s not what I meant.” Laughing, he caught her wrist when she tried to flee. “We’re in the same boat, honey. I’m not in a position to throw stones. Besides, you smell pretty good to me.”
The teasing glint that had lit his eyes a second ago darkened, as his gaze once again rested on her lips. His hold on her wrist grew a fraction tighter, and she felt the pad of his thumb at her speeding pulse.
Dory held her breath and moved back a step.
Clint noisily cleared his throat. He dropped her wrist, and turned back to gathering supplies. “We’ve got seven booths to set up. Actually, eight if you count the ticket booth but if we’re short on time we can set up a chair and beach umbrella for the seller. That’s worked in the past. Curly and two other guys who’ve been mending fences are gonna help so we should finish before sundown.”
She moved back farther so that she was standing just outside the doorway. The meager distance she’d put between them did little to slow down her racing heart. For one crazy second she’d actually thought again that he might kiss her. Which was ridiculous, of course. She’d merely been in his way. “You sell tickets?”
“About five years ago Kate had the idea of turning the games into a fund-raiser for the no-kill animal shelter in town. We’ve raised quite a bit of money since then,” he said in a tone so normal it confirmed that she’d been insane about the potential kiss.
“What a great idea. Kate would come up with something like that. Want me to take some of those?”
He handed her three hammers and a level. “By the way, where are the other two who came with you?”
“No idea. I haven’t seen them since we got here.” Dory grinned. “But I wouldn’t be looking to recruit them if I were you. I doubt either one knows which end of the hammer to use.”
He chuckled. “Nah, I remember them. I didn’t figure they would. Here. Can you manage this, too?”
She accepted the sack of nails he handed her, still feeling the sting of his remark. He’d remembered Lisa and Jessica but not her. The thing was, Dory had no business being surprised or upset. They were both gorgeous, and she’d always been just plain tomboy Dory.
4
AS LOATH AS SHE WAS to admit it, Dory was exhausted. She was sweaty and hungry and a gallon of water sounded good about now. The amount of physical labor she’d subjected herself to was taxing enough, but coupled with the eight-hour red-eye flight she’d taken to get here, and the short time since she’d returned from Cambodia, she knew she was close to her limit.
She stepped back from the structure she’d just completed, and set down her hammer before her arm fell off. Anyway, Clint really didn’t need her anymore. Nearly a dozen men had returned from the pastures for their evening meal, but seeing that the project hadn’t been completed, they’d all chipped in. Most of them weren’t that handy with a hammer so the job still took longer than it should have, but finally, there was only one booth left to erect.
Picking up the bottle of water that Kate had brought her earlier, she took a long, cool sip and then scanned the field beyond the booths to the carousel that had been delivered an hour ago. The entire area had been designated the kids’ zone, complete with giant waterslide, an inflated fun house with a trampoline-type bottom and a section cordoned off for pony rides. She saw Curly and Tom and Silas, whom she’d met earlier, but she couldn’t find Clint.
“We’re done. Chuck and Tom will finish the last booth.” His voice came from behind her.
“Good.” She started to turn but then stopped to stretch a kink out of her neck. “Gotta admit, I was ready to call it—”
He’d taken off his shirt. His smooth bronzed chest and broad shoulders gleamed with moisture, and for the life of her she couldn’t remember what she was about to say. She tried to look away, but instead her gaze swept to the low ride of his jeans on his lean, narrow hips. His belly was flat and ridged with just enough muscle to make the view interesting.
She forced her attention upward before he noticed she was staring, and was relieved to find him using his shirt to wipe his face. She took another quick sip of water to relieve her parched throat.
He took a final swipe with his shirt, met her eyes and smiled. “Sorry, what did you say?”
“Ah, nothing.” She shrugged. “Just that I was going to throw in the towel.”
He nodded. “Kate reminded me that you’d flown all night. I apologize for using and abusing you.”
She waved a dismissive hand. “Forget it. I was happy to help.”
“Come on, I’ll walk you back to the house. Supper should be ready soon.”
She really wished he’d put his shirt on because she could hardly trust herself not to stare like a starstruck schoolgirl. Instead, she concentrated on the pinkish-orange clouds that streaked across the slate-blue sky, courtesy of the sun sitting low on the horizon behind them. “What time does it get dark?”
“In about half an hour. We cut it close, though we could’ve strung up some lights if we had to.” They walked close together, their shoulders sometimes touching, and she tried to ignore the little shiver of pleasure the contact produced. “Tomorrow morning we’ll set up the two tents and picnic tables,” Clint continued. “Shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours.”
“I can help.”
He snorted. “I think the boys and I can handle it. Only a few hands have regular chores assigned tomorrow. The rest will be free to help out with the party if they’re needed.”
“I should be of some use. It seems I’m much better with a hammer than most of you.”
He stopped, and gave her a long, drawn-out look of astonishment. “You are really something else, you know that?”
“It’s nothing to be shamed of. Just because you have a penis doesn’t automatically make you a carpenter.” She shrugged when his look of disbelief turned into a glare. “I’m sure you guys are probably great at rounding up cattle or whatever it is you normally do. I volunteered with Habitat for Humanity for two summers and learned how to use a hammer.”
His jaw set, he again started toward the house, balling his shirt in a tight fist and squeezing. She had a feeling he’d have preferred it were her neck.
“Nothing personal,” she said, hurrying to keep up with his accelerating pace. “But I am sorry if I hurt your feelings. Sometimes I forget how fragile the male ego is. Not just in humans. You’ll find in every species that—”
He stopped abruptly and faced her. “Can’t you for once act like a girl?”
She blinked, trying not to show how much his words had stung. It didn’t matter that regret immediately flooded his features. Or that she was well aware of her lack of feminine appeal.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.” He passed a hand over his face, briefly covering his mouth. “I can’t believe I said that.”
She lifted a shoulder. “It’s okay. Really. I get it.”
“No, I was rude.” He touched her arm. “You were great today, and you don’t deserve me being a—”
“A pig,” she finished sweetly.
He tugged down the brim of his hat so that she could no longer see his eyes. “Not what I was gonna say, but yeah…I guess that’s appropriate.”
Damn right. “Forget it. Like you said, dinner is probably waiting.” She didn’t care. Not really, she thought as she continued toward the house. It was a beautiful evening. She was thrilled to be able to spend some time with the gang after not seeing them for so long. They’d have a nice dinner, and then gab until they couldn’t keep their eyes open any longer. Just like the old days. This was their weekend. She refused to give Clint another thought.
BY THE TIME IT WAS Dory’s turn to use the bathroom she shared with Jessica, the small room was hot and steamy, and for a second she felt as if she were back in Cambodia. Except in the jungle there was no hot shower, no privacy and no worrying about how you looked when you finally sat down to fill your belly.
She liked her job, and the guys she worked with were all top-notch in their field, as well as being a good bunch to hang out with. But she wondered if the prolonged isolation she endured wasn’t skewing her view of social correctness.
After shampooing and rinsing her hair, she wanted nothing more than to linger under the soothing warm water, but that would make her late for dinner. So she dried off, wrapped herself in the luxuriously plush pink towel, and stood in front of the fogged mirror. Perfect. She didn’t want to have to look at her reflection, anyway.
Annoyed with her attitude, she grabbed the comb from her carry-on and dragged the teeth through her wet hair. Normally she’d let it air-dry but she knew darn well Jessica and Lisa would be getting gussied up tonight. Normally that wouldn’t matter to Dory, but she didn’t want to seem uncouth, either. After all, they were adults, not indifferent college kids anymore, she thought as her gaze rested on the makeup Jessica had left in her corner of the white-tiled countertop.
Dory had tried eyeliner and eye shadow once. The experience had been a total disaster. She generally stuck to mascara, and only when she remembered that she had a tube in her backpack. Luckily, with the amount of sun exposure she received from working outside, she never worried about foundation or blush.
Still staring at the intimidating assortment of cosmetics, she nibbled her lower lip. It wouldn’t hurt to take another stab at it. Jessica wouldn’t care if she used any of this stuff, in fact, she’d probably be elated. She’d always tried to get Dory to make more of her appearance.
Can’t you for once act like a girl?
His words reverberated in her head like the grating sound of a bird’s screech bouncing off canyon walls.
Why was she letting his thoughtless remark get to her? If anything, she shouldn’t have let him off so easily. She should’ve made him define girl and watch him squirm. So what if Dory wasn’t a Sara Lynn. She wouldn’t apologize for that. For the past two years she’d worked exclusively with men, the only woman for hundreds of miles and still hadn’t sparked an interest in any of them. She never questioned it. Never gave it a thought. Until now.
Was she really that hopeless?
Furiously, she wiped the mirror until there was a small area clear enough to see her reflection, and then started grabbing the various compacts of eye shadow, liner sticks and lip pencils. This was going to be tricky, drying her hair and deftly applying the unfamiliar makeup in a short period of time. Briefly she thought about calling for Jessica who Dory could hear moving about in the adjoining room, but she wasn’t up to the inevitable bombardment of questions. Until this morning, they hadn’t seen her for five years. Maybe if she showed up wearing makeup, they’d believe she’d changed.
She went to work, first drying her hair, though leaving it damp, and then tackling the face paint. She felt clumsy but worked quickly and within minutes, blinked at the garish face that stared back. Her confidence crumpled. The black around her eyes made her look like a raccoon, and the gray shadow resembled one of those goth chicks that hung around the mall. The pale pink lipstick was okay, but that was it. Pretty sad.
So much for acting like a girl. Disappointed yet annoyed with her foolishness, she plucked two tissues from the box and started to wipe her face, careful not to end up with black streaks on her cheeks. By the time she was done, something miraculous had happened. The residual makeup that remained was perfect. The smudged smoky color around her brown eyes made them look bigger and more exotic. The difference was subtle yet totally amazing.
She nervously licked her lips, totally screwing up the lipstick, and had to reapply it after slipping on a clean pair of jeans and one of the denim blouses she’d brought. After a final check in the mirror, she left her room and headed toward the sound of Kate’s and Lisa’s laughter. They were coming from the kitchen, carrying platters of sliced chicken and beef and veggie trays.
“Just in time,” Kate said, catching sight of her and motioning with a tilt of her head for Dory to follow. “Because the kitchen has been tied up all day, we’re just having sandwiches. And then sinfully rich chocolate cake.”
“Sounds good to me. I’m so hungry I’d even eat eggplant at this point.”
Making a sound of disgust, Jessica came from behind with a pitcher of water and a bottle of red wine. “That’s pretty desperate.”
“What can I do?” Dory asked.
“I heard you’ve been busting your fanny all day.” Lisa slid her tray onto the oak dining room table and then looked up, her blue eyes widening. “Whoa, welcome to the age of glamour.”
“What?” She hadn’t meant to sound peevish. Oh, God, when the other two turned to stare at her she wanted to crawl under the table.
Kate’s slaw-jawed surprise didn’t help. “You look terrific. When did you start wearing makeup?”
She shrugged. “A couple of years ago.” At the ridiculous lie, heat crawled up her neck, and she turned, pretending to be looking for something. “Should I get silverware?”
Jessica got in her face and grinned. “I’m so proud. Our little girl is all grown up.”
“Very funny. Now knock it off.” So much for subtle. She glanced toward the stairs that led to the bedrooms. If Clint showed up now and heard all the teasing, she’d just die of embarrassment.
Although she couldn’t seem to hide her amusement, Kate gave the other two a warning look and then dug into the drawer of an oak china hutch that matched the table. Producing a stack of beige linen napkins, she handed them to Dory along with a handful of forks and knives. “You can set these out.”
Lisa passed out dinner and dessert plates, while Jessica went to get water glasses.
Kate laid serving forks beside the platters of meat and sliced tomatoes, and then remembering that they needed mayo and mustard, returned to the kitchen.
After completing her task, Dory glanced at the grandfather clock near the stairs. Where was Clint, anyway? Or Kate’s other brother, for that matter.
“Let’s get the wine poured,” Lisa said, and popped the cork. “Pass me some glasses, will you?”
The other two returned, and they all took their seats. Kate started passing the food, and Dory realized only four places had been set. Good thing she hadn’t gotten all made up for Clint. Clearly he’d decided to bail on dinner.
5
THE NEXT DAY STARTED OUT hot even before the sun inched up over the mesquite trees dotting the eastern slopes. Clint squinted at the haze of dust kicked up by his brother’s horse as he galloped south, intent on riding the fence line. Joe had always liked to stick to daily operations rather than get involved with the weekend’s festivities, but today he’d been particularly stubborn about putting distance between himself and the fray. Even after Clint had practically begged him to swap places with him.
He knew that facing Dory was inevitable, and that it wasn’t going to be easy. Shame had shadowed him the whole night, and he’d deserved every last minute of feeling as if a noose were tightening around his neck. Not that he thought she’d gone running to tell Kate what a jerk her brother was. He was pretty sure Dory was more the type to pretend the incident had never happened. Except he’d seen the hurt look on her face.
Figuring his presence at supper wouldn’t be welcome, he’d eaten with the men in the bunkhouse, and then drank beer and played Texas Hold ’Em until midnight. But because his mind hadn’t been on poker, he’d lost a couple hundred bucks. If that wasn’t bad enough, most of it had been to their foreman, whose irritating cackle and penchant for pointing out every dumb play Clint made had just about pushed him over the edge.
He downed his third cup of black coffee, relieved that the dull ache in his head from too much beer and too little sense was finally easing up. So far, only one of the tents had been erected and it was already close to eight-thirty. Last night’s jump start on the weekend’s festivities had put them behind schedule. Most of the men helping with the party preparations were slow moving, probably hung over, and he couldn’t say a word because he was such a damn poor example.
“Good morning,” Dory said cheerfully as she came from behind and stood beside him, her hands wrapped around an oversize blue mug.
He eyed her warily, but she didn’t give any indication that she was still upset. “Mornin.’ Sleep well?”
“Boy, did I ever.” She wore jeans, no holes this time, and a snug white T-shirt tucked into her waistband, revealing a narrow waist and curvy hips. “Though we stayed up too late talking.”
“I was up late, too,” he grumbled. “Losing money.”
“Poker?”
“Yep.” Was it really gonna be this easy? As if he hadn’t opened his big mouth and stuck his size-eleven boot into it. Had she already forgiven him?
She smiled. “Been there, done that. After work, and having read every book you can carry in with you, there’s not much to do in the jungle for months at a time.” She took a sip of coffee and then frowned at him over the rim of the mug. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Me?” He’d been staring at the tiny dimple that appeared near the corner of her mouth. Something else he hadn’t noticed yesterday. “Nothing. We’ve got some coffee brewing in the barn. Want a refill?”
“Sure. If you want, I can get some for both of us.”
“Yeah, thanks.” He handed her his mug. “Just black,” he called as she started to walk away, noting a slight natural sway to her hips. Interesting how different she looked with her shirt tucked in.
“What time you expect the kids to start showin’ Pete’s gravelly voice startled Clint out of his preoccupation with the way Dory’s jeans hugged her backside.
“I’d say about an hour and a half. We have to get the other tent up before then.” Clint pulled his hat brim down in deference to the sun. “I want the tools and equipment stored before those kids start running wild around here.”
“We could rope off the area if you think—”
A howl came from inside the barn. And then a scream. Clint and Pete exchanged glances, and then they both took off at a run. Clint quickly outdistanced the older man and entered the barn first. Newly stacked bales of hay blocked his way and obscured his view. He darted through the maze toward the kitchenette in back where they kept the coffee.
