Dances of the Heart Read online

  “I...you don’t have to apologize. It was fine. You went out and celebrated your son’s return home. But thank you, they’re lovely.” She took the flowers and walked briskly to the sink to search for a receptacle to make do as a vase.

  “I think there’s a jug in the top cupboard, Mom,” muttered Paige, briefly glancing up from her book. “Why don’t you sit down, Ray? Take a load off and all that.”

  He sat on the sofa, turning his hat in his hands as Carrie clattered about the tiny kitchen, dirty dishes covering the small countertop. She measured out coffee into the filter paper and set the machine to work, not quite accustomed to using the coffeemaker.

  “Doris was reluctant to tell me where you were,” Ray went on, a somewhat hesitant note in his voice. “I hope you won’t be mad at her.”

  Carrie cut the ends off the blooms and dumped them into the jug of water. “Oh, no, it’s fine.” She reached up for a couple of mugs and smiled back at him.

  “You’re not seeking her autograph, are you?” Paige put in without looking up. “You don’t want a book signed?”

  “No, not this time. Though Doris does seem to think she’s going to have a leading role in your next one.”

  Her daughter let out a single laugh, which startled her.

  “I don’t think you’ve got that desperate for heroines yet, have you, Mother?”

  “Paige…”

  “Yeah,” Ray joined in. A smile stole across his features. “She’s not exactly—well, I don’t want to be unkind. She has a good heart, Doris has.”

  “No doubt a large one,” added Paige rather dryly.

  “Paige…” Carrie’s shoulders slumped as she tried to catch her daughter’s eye.

  “Paige, Paige,” she mimicked.

  “Jake says hello,” Ray put in quickly. “Said he might give you a call later, Paige, and see if you wanted a dance partner for the night. I left him with some customers who’re considering one of our stallions. He’s real good with people, Jake is.”

  Carrie breathed a sigh of relief that he seemed to have defused the situation with her daughter for the moment. She waited to see what reaction the mention of Jake might bring.

  Paige slipped Ray a glance then slammed shut her book. “Well,” she said, her chair screeching back, “maybe I better go change for the evening’s entertainment.”

  The door to the bedroom closed. Carrie made a face, part apology for her daughter, part ‘you know how kids are.’

  “How do you take your coffee?”

  “Oh, black—as it comes is fine.” A look of amusement momentarily stretched his face into a wide smile before his gaze slid away again.

  Carrie was conscious of the sudden awkwardness between them. She had the sensation he watched her back as she added the sugar and milk to her own mug, aware of the sound of the fridge door opening and closing, breaking the wave of silence between them. For a moment, a surge went through her, an expectancy of what might happen, but she struggled to suppress it, to pull away. It was as if she were drawing back into herself, containing some portion of her being that might be trying to escape.

  “Here you go,” she said softly as she handed him the mug and switched Paige’s vacated chair to face the sofa. “I hope it’s all right.”

  Ray held his mug between his two hands as if they needed warming. “You know, maybe I shouldn’t have come. I guess I could’ve just sent over a note or left a message or something rather than comin’ on over here and bothering you both.”

  “I’m glad you came. Really, I…” She slipped out of herself, like mercury from a thermometer, one bit and then another of her feelings were attracting and attaching like magnets until the liquid silver of her center would be gone.

  “It’s just, well, I felt I laid an awful lot of my problems on you last night, and I wondered if you went away feeling, you know, upset or something. Damn, Carrie, I’m not real good with words. Help me out here, will ya?” He reached across and slammed the mug down on the table.

  “You don’t need help, Ray. You were drunk. We all do or say things we don’t mean when we’ve had too much to drink.” She took a careful sip from her coffee and gazed at him over the top of her mug.

  “Yeah, well. There wasn’t anything I said, as I recall, I didn’t mean. It’s just...maybe I shouldn’t have said it all.” He stood suddenly and grabbed his hat. “I don’t suppose you ever get drunk, do you?”

  Her gaze met his, startled at his sudden antipathy. The resulting silence made the sounds of Paige’s preparations seem louder, like warning bells.

  “You think me an awful prig really, don’t you?”

  Ray’s piercing gaze caught her again, the lens of a camera catching the moment.

  “No,” he said, sitting back down. “No, not at all. I just feel you’re very much in control of yourself, is all. You wouldn’t let yourself go, like I did last night.”

  He reached for his coffee as the bedroom door swung open.

  Carrie turned to see her daughter glaring at the two of them. She tensed at the look of impatience on Paige’s face before turning back to Ray.

  He took a sip of the coffee, his face contorting with the taste. “Jeez, that is about the worst dang coffee I ever tasted.”

  ****

  Paige had been the one to convince Ray to stay for the dance. She told him if Jake showed up to be her partner, her mother would be left alone to go back to the room and work on a Saturday night, and he couldn’t allow that. Her mom had busied herself at the sink clearing the dinner dishes, tossing out the rejected coffee before she excused herself to ‘freshen up.’

  When the bell sounded outside the main ranch building, the three strolled down at a leisurely pace, Paige slightly behind the older pair, watching their body language. How every time Ray leaned toward her mother, her body would shift slightly away with the next step. How every time her mother said something, Ray would bend his head in much closer.

  Hopeless, just hopeless.

  And then Ray’s hand came out suddenly to stop her mother. “Well, I’ll be,” he murmured. “What the heck?”

  Paige stopped behind them and peered ahead. The cowboy—a wrangler she guessed he was called—the one who had taken them out riding earlier in the day, was sauntering toward the dining hall. Slightly older than Jake, she figured, she had found him tense and wary, uncommunicative. She never did manage to ask him about the scar running down his left cheek.

  “Ty Sheldon,” Ray’s voice called out. “What’re you doin’ here?”

  The wrangler stopped, hesitated, then came part way to meet the trio. “Mr. Ryder? Hey, how you doin’, sir? Long time—”

  Ray didn’t let him finish. “You working here now, Ty? I thought, uh…” He stopped himself, glancing at Paige and her mother, and obviously conscious of them listening.

  “Mr. McKay gave me a job. I been clean for a couple of years now. Out…you know…”

  Her mother shifted uncomfortably, then said, “We’ll see you inside.”

  Ray shook his head. “No, it’s fine,” he assured her quietly. “This is one of my son Robbie’s old friends from school.”

  “We met earlier today.” She nodded to the cowboy. “Ty took us out on a lovely, long ride.”

  “Did he now?” Ray stood and crossed his arms.

  “Dad, Paige.”

  Jake’s voice drew her attention from the unfolding scene as he approached from the parking lot, then stopped in his tracks.

  Recognition spread across his face as the wrangler took a wary step back. Yet Jake continued to stand there without acknowledging Robbie’s old friend.

  Paige stayed where she was and waited for some reaction.

  “I better be getting inside, Mr. Ryder.” Ty touched the brim of his hat with a small nod at her mother and headed off as Jake came forward toward his father. If Ray thought it odd his son and the old family friend didn’t exchange greetings, he didn’t show it. To Paige, it was just that—odd.

  “What the hell is th
at bastard doing here?” Jake asked.

  “He’s clean, son, he says. Whatever else he was, he was Robbie’s good friend.” Ray nodded to her mother. “You think a leopard can change its spots?”

  Paige waited for her dance partner’s response, taking in the way the two men dealt with each other. And then something else caught her attention. After apologizing to her mother for his drunken behavior last night, the rancher now seemed to be ready for a repeat performance.

  “Why have you got a hipflask in your back pocket?” The question was suddenly sharp, intrusive.

  Ray’s hand darted to the flask. He eyed Paige for a moment and then his son. “I guess I just feel I need to carry an emergency supply. Sort of like one of them St. Bernard dogs.” He glanced toward her mom to catch her reaction. “Force of habit, I guess.”

  Paige could see the wheels of her mother’s mind turning and working, yet no words came out. And then she caught a grimace on Jake’s face that faded away as she faced him.

  “Jake,” she went on brightly, extending her hand, “are we going to dance?”

  ****

  Tables had been moved to the sides of the wide room and a country band played from a platform set up at one end. Paper lanterns were strung along the wall to give a slightly festive air, while the bar was doing a brisk business. But it was nothing like the Bandera dancehall of the previous night. Ranch guests appeared to be shy about trying the local dances, and only a few couples were out on the floor.

  Carrie fidgeted with her bracelet, twisting it on her wrist, unsure whether to offer to buy Ray a drink, unsure of what she was doing there aside from spending more time with this man, a man about whom she really knew very little.

  “We’re going to go for a drive,” her daughter broke in suddenly after a quiet consultation with Jake. “Don’t wait up.” And with a wave, she was off.

  Jake nodded his good-bye as he went to hold the door open for Paige, his gaze scanning the skimpy camisole she wore with her jeans.

  Ray grimaced. “They’ll be fine,” he assured her. “Drink?” he asked, nodding toward the bar. “I believe I’m allowed two before the need for a ‘designated driver’ is reached.”

  Carrie laughed. Her body relaxed, let go, as if she might enjoy herself. “You’re not going to let me forget that, are you? All right,” she said, following him. “I’ve found they do a mean Margarita, salt and all please.”

  “So, you’re a tequila girl, then, huh? Okay. One margarita, one Jack on the rocks.”

  He led her to a space at the bar. Carrie briefly acknowledged one of her fellow guests while Ray gave a busy Doris a nod as she passed.

  “How long you been divorced, Carrie?” he asked bluntly as he shook a hand at the barman.

  “Paige was three. Nearly twenty-four years.” She made it sound like a natural fact of life, but his reaction was immense surprise.

  “Twenty-four years! And you never re-married? How the hell did you manage that?”

  She squinted at him a moment, trying to decide exactly what he meant by his remark. “I managed it by working hard, very hard, since the day he walked out.”

  “He walked out? Oh, that’s right, you said yesterday he’d moved on to greener pastures. Must’ve been a damn fool, then.”

  “I thought so.”

  “And all this time you never re-married? I just find that so hard to believe.”

  “I didn’t re-marry, Ray. I didn’t say I hadn’t had any relationships.” She waited as he grew impatient for the barman. “I was very young when we married, and learned my lesson. End of story. How long have you been divorced?”

  “Me? I, uh…” He broke off to give their order. “Now, let me guess, these other relationships, my bet is you broke them off, not the men?”

  Carrie leaned an elbow on the bar and stared at him. Where was he going with this? And was it any of his business? Her fingers strummed for a moment. “Are you a psychologist in your spare time as well as a rancher?”

  “No, no.” He handed the barman some cash before picking up the drinks and handing her one. “Salud!”

  “Salud,” she responded, as he guided her to a space by the window. “But you think you have me figured out,” she went on.

  “I think…I’m not sure what I think. But I do know it’s mighty strange for a good-looking, talented, kind-hearted lady like yourself to still be single after twenty-four years. You must be hiding yourself away, woman.”

  “Or maybe I just never met the right man,” she retorted. “Or maybe I just like it that way.”

  “Maybe.”

  She waited a moment, taking a careful sip of the drink and watching the dancers on the floor. Was it worth going on? But she saw a genuine interest—or was it concern?—in this man’s face.

  “When he left—David, his name was…is David—I decided I didn’t want anything from him except the apartment and some maintenance for Paige so no matter what happened she had a roof over her head and could attend decent schools. He was going off to Hong Kong anyway, and I figured it would be almost impossible to start legal proceedings to get alimony. I just let him be. He was out of my life, and I figured we were going to have minimal contact with him anyway.” She sipped again at her drink, the memory of that awful time bringing back the pain, the humiliation. It wasn’t the drink that chilled her now.

  “Does Paige see him? Was he part of her life growing up?”

  “Not really. She went out to visit him a couple of times when she was older and, of course, when he is in New York, he comes to see her. But David’s input was very little. I could choose the schools, basically do whatever I wanted regarding her upbringing.” She gave a small shake, trying to rid herself of those memories once and for all.

  Ray took notice of his fast-disappearing drink; Carrie wondered if he normally drank whiskey as if it were water.

  “So, when did you start writing?”

  “The day he walked out the door.” She took a sip of her margarita. “It was good therapy.”

  His dark, piercing eyes penetrated her in a way that made her feel violated. Then, gently, he reached forward, took her drink to put on the windowsill along with his own and extended his hand.

  “What? What are you doing?”

  “You know how to Texas Two-Step?” he asked.

  “No,” she said, laughter just below the surface.

  “Well, sweetheart, you have come to the right place. Or at least got yourself the right man. By the time I finish with you, you’ll be the best dang stepper on the floor.”

  Carrie looked around. “There isn’t anyone else on the floor at the moment, Ray.”

  “Well, heck, I know that. That’s perfect for learning.”

  As soon as his hand closed around hers, the leather of his palm a strange glove over her own fingers, a sudden frisson of connection ran through her she hadn’t known in a very long while. He moved her to face him squarely on, a small smile tipping the edges of his mouth, the dark, impenetrable eyes shining with his captured prize.

  “Just follow me,” he said as his right hand went to her back. A cover of a Vince Gill ballad started, the mournful tune setting a moderate tempo. “Perfect.” He held her right hand high and applied slight pressure to move her backwards. “Fast fast slow slow, fast fast slow slow.”

  Carrie felt a light bulb go on. She got it. It was good. It was fun. And she relaxed in his embrace. He was an excellent teacher, a fabulous leader on the dance floor. Would wonders never cease?

  “You’re doing well. You’re doing fine,” he assured her. “We’re gonna try a little promenade now, and then a twirl, so get ready.”

  Carrie couldn’t stop herself from smiling, anticipation bubbling for just a second. And then out of the corner of her eye she caught Ty watching them, beer half-raised in salute and a smirk plastered on his face. A moment’s hesitation and she missed the step.

  “What happened there?” asked Ray, oblivious to the effect the onlooker had on her.

  Other coup
les were finally joining them on the dance floor, but despite the company, Carrie’s discomfort increased. “That boy, that Ty,” she told him. “He was watching us. It made me feel…uneasy.”

  Ray scanned the sidelines, but Ty had gone, nowhere to be seen. “Oh, don’t pay him any mind. He’s harmless enough.”

  ****

  “So, this is the man cave,” Paige said. She picked up a photo, glancing briefly at it before putting it back down. “Goodness.”

  “Yeah, I suppose it is now. Guess you didn’t really see it last night.” Jake handed her a margarita and then motioned to the sofa, plopping down as she ignored the invitation.

  Instead, she wandered the room as if she were looking for some clue, her drink almost forgotten in her hand. She gave occasional glances to Jake, considering him, sizing him up, comparing him to Steven. He would certainly not be like Steven, nothing like her lost man, no one would. Yet suddenly, she needed him, wanted him. There was something about him, something that told her he cared, he was giving, she could trust him to love her for the night and make no judgment, no demand.

  Could she trust him?

  The sudden rush of desire hit her hard, the need for another warm body.

  She slugged back the cocktail. “Is this your brother?” she asked to give herself time to think. “He was in the army, too?”

  “Yes.” Jake sipped at the dark liquid in his glass.

  She could sense his reluctance to answer so she pushed, enjoying the power she felt she had. Jake wanted her, she knew he did. And she wanted…what? A man’s body, a release?

  “Did you enjoy the army, Jake? Did you like it, the manliness of it all, the camaraderie, the adventure…the danger?” She dragged out the last word, her eyes widening at him like a lioness.

  He didn’t take the bait. “No. I didn’t like it. Not one bit.”

  She plunked herself down next to him. “So, why did you go?”

  “To please my father. I thought it would, but by then he didn’t give a damn. Not really anyway. In fact, he tried to talk me out of it. He thought he would lose me the way he’d lost Robbie. I thought, somewhere inside of him, he still wanted me to serve.”