The Swinging R Ranch: The Swinging R Ranch / Whose Line Is It Anyway?

“You’re not mayor yet, sweetheart. I don’t need you poking your nose in my affairs.”

“But it was okay for you to kiss me?”

“You’re still fixated on that?” Amusement lit his eyes. “That wasn’t even a real kiss. I just did that to get you to keep still.”

“You presumptuous…”

“It worked.”

Momentarily speechless, Abby stared at him in indignation. When she finally opened her mouth to give him a good dressing down, she caught some movement out of the corner of her eye.

“What are you two arguing about now?”

Abby glowered at Virgil, standing at the door, his arms crossed above his big, round belly, the snaps of his red western shirt ready to pop. “Put out that cigar.”

She’d sounded more terse than she meant to, but her nerves were shot. She was afraid he’d heard too much, and by the time the story made its rounds, they’d have her and Max french-kissing in the back seat of her car.

With a bulldog frown, Virgil pulled the stogie out of his mouth. “Don’t get your bowels in an uproar. I haven’t even lit the damn thing yet.”

Abby glanced at all the papers she had yet to grade and sighed. “What is this? Grand Central Station?”

Max stood, and nodded to the older man, then looked at Abby. “What do you know about Grand Central?”

“Probably from going to that fancy school back East,” Virgil said, and proceeded to make himself at home on one of the students’ chairs.

Abby winced inside, waiting for the chair to break. Of course the upside would be getting rid of Virgil. Max, she didn’t know what to do with yet. She wanted him to leave, yet she wanted him to stay.

Reluctantly, she slid him a glance. He was looking at her, curiosity making his green eyes glitter.

What she really wanted was for him to give her a real kiss.

Dammit. The thought added salt to her raw nerves. “What do you want, Virgil?”

He frowned at her. “You’re not still miffed over last night, are you? We were just having a healthy discussion, is all.”

“No, I’m not miffed. But I do have a lot of papers to grade.”

Virgil glanced at Max, then pointedly looked at Abby, and grinned.

“Mr. Bennett was just leaving,” she said. “Hopefully, not just my office, but Bingo—even better, Nevada.”

Virgil chuckled. “I sure hope not. We have a proposition for him.”

“Proposition?” Max looked nervous.

Abby felt a flutter in her stomach herself. “We?”

“A bunch of us from last night had coffee this morning and we were thinking—” Virgil looked around the classroom. “You got any water in here?”

“Virgil,” Abby warned between clenched teeth.

A confused frown clouded Max’s face, as though he were trying to wade through the undercurrent, make sense of what was not being said.

“He doesn’t want any water,” she explained. “He just likes to build suspense. Virgil, you always do this, and for your information, no one in town likes it. They think you’re a drama king.”

Virgil scoffed and looked at Max for support.

Max only shrugged. “She could’ve called you a drama queen.”

Abby immediately looked down at her desktop blotter to keep from laughing out loud. It was enough to imagine Virgil’s inevitable bug-eyed expression at that remark.

“Your grandmother’s right, Abigail,” Virgil muttered. “You’re just no fun.”

Her gaze flew up to the older man’s face, the laughter instantly dying inside her. “Is that what she told you?”

Virgil shifted in his seat, suddenly not so eager to meet her eyes. “Not in so many words. In fact, Estelle didn’t mean—” He scratched his belly. “Oh, hell, I ain’t getting in the middle of you two hens.”

Her gaze flickered to Max. The trace of sympathy she saw on his face only fueled her anger. “Did Gramms put you up to something? Is that why you’re here?”

Dread coiled like a snake, making her stomach cramp as she waited for the man’s answer. If he lied to her, she’d know it. Whenever he spun tales, his left ear wiggled. As children, she and her friends used to laugh about it.

She wasn’t laughing now. It seemed as though the entire town was in on some sick joke, except her. She was the punch line. This was all so unlike Gramms.

Abby hoped there wasn’t a medical reason behind her grandmother’s odd behavior. The thought subdued her anger, but stoked her fear. She was going to call Doc Sawyer, whether Gramms liked it or not.

“Don’t go getting all paranoid. My being here hasn’t got anything to do with Estelle.” Virgil turned to Max, obscuring her view of his ear. “I hear you’re planning on staying a spell.”

“Who told you that?” Max asked, his mouth tightening with annoyance.

“Herb Hanson. And being as he’s your driver, I figure he ought to know.”

“He ought to know to keep his mouth shut, too,” Max mumbled and glanced irritably at Abby.

“Why are you staying?” she asked in such a curt tone that both men stared at her. “Surely our hick town can’t interest you that much.”

“It doesn’t. You forget I have a business concern here.”

Virgil started stuttering, his gaze on Abby. “Wh-who are you calling a hick?”

“Don’t look at me.” She moved her chin in Max’s direction. “He’s the one who thinks Bingo is some backwoods town.”

Max steadily met her gaze. “I knew you were looking to pick a fight from the moment I walked in here.”

“Then you should’ve turned right back around.”

“I sure should have.”

“It’s not too late.”

Virgil made a sound of disgust, then struggled to get up from the chair, but his belly got in the way of the traylike student desk attached to the arm. When his face started reddening, Abby took pity and showed him how to lift the desk up and slide it down to the side of the chair.

“Darn it, Abigail, you could have told me that contraption was movable.” Virgil rubbed his butt. “Those chairs aren’t fit for midgets.” His frown cleared. “At least you two banshees have stopped your sniping.”

“Don’t count on it,” Max said. “Looks like she’s winding up for round two.”

“Says you.” Abby lifted her chin. “I’m more mature than that.”

“So why’d you make a big deal over the kiss?”

She let out a low shriek. That smile was going to get wiped off his face if it was the last thing she did.

“What kiss?” Virgil looked from one to the other. “You two been necking in the classroom? You can’t do that.”

“Oh, please.” Abby’s cheeks heated. “You know me better than that, Virgil Mayflower.”

“Then why is your face stained with guilt?”

“Yeah, Abigail, why is that?” Max’s slow grin was anything but charming right now.

“Can’t you tell he’s goading you, Virgil?” She leaned back in her chair, trying to look relaxed. Thank goodness for the desk blocking their view of her shaky legs.

Nervous energy ricocheted through her. Why was Max staying all of a sudden? Why had he stopped by to see her? Darn it, she hadn’t even given him a chance to explain. Of course he’d been too busy kissing her. Not real kisses, as he’d pointed out. But, geez, was she ever itching to…

Feeling prickly and warm suddenly, she looked over at him. He was watching her, his brows drawn together in undisguised interest as though he were trying to trespass into her thoughts.

She averted her eyes, and found Virgil watching both of them. He had a horribly interested, almost excited look on his face, and Abby knew she wouldn’t be showing up at the diner for a long while. She hated being the subject of gossip, one of the few things she despised about smalltown living. But that had never been a problem for her until now. Until Max.

“Look, you two,” she said, standing abruptly. “I’d love to sit here and trade barbs with you but I have to work for a living.”

“Don’t you want to hear our proposition?” Virgil asked, a shrewd gleam entering his eye. “It involves you somewhat.”

She’d almost forgotten about that, and so had Max judging from the way he straightened and peered warily at the other man. Tempted to tell him she didn’t give a hoot what he had to say to Max, she simply couldn’t. Her curiosity was piqued all over again.

“Now that I have your attention.” Virgil looked from one to the other. “The committee feels that it would be beneficial if—” He stopped short and snapped his fingers. “Darn it. I forgot something.”

One look from Abby, and he added, “It’s not what you think. I’m not trying to draw this out, so don’t start pounding on me.” He quickly looked at Max. “Tell me, son, what do you do?”

“Do?”

“How do you earn a living? Besides running brothels.”

Max gave Virgil a threatening look. “I do not run brothels.”

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