Diana Palmer Texan Lovers. Diana Palmer
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were wondering,” he added with a cold smile. “We’re meeting a business contact there.”
Abby’s heart jumped. Calhoun was going to the dance, too. She hated her own helpless pleasure at the thought that she might have at least a few minutes in his arms.
Tyler studied Justin warily. “You aren’t meeting Fred Harriman, by any chance?”
Justin’s eyebrows arched. “Yes. Why?”
Tyler grimaced. “He just bought our place.”
Calhoun caught his breath. “For God’s sake, you weren’t forced out?”
“I’m afraid so,” Tyler replied with a sigh. “Funny, you never think you’ll go under. I was sure that I could undo the damage Dad had done, but I was too late. At least it’s not a complete loss. We’ve still got a couple of stallions, and we can hold on to at least the house and an acre or two of land.”
“If you need a job, we’ve got one open at the feedlot,” Justin said unexpectedly. “It’s not charity, damn it,” he added when he saw Tyler’s incredulous look and glinting green eyes. “I don’t have to like you to know how good you are with livestock.”
“That’s a fact,” Calhoun agreed, raising a cigarette to his chiseled mouth. “The door’s open.”
Abby, watching them, was struck by the sheer force of so much masculinity at close range. The three of them were like patterns cut from the same rough cloth. Long, tall Texans. She was suddenly proud to be a friend to two of them, even if the third hated her.
“Thanks for the offer, then,” Tyler said. He stared at Justin. “I didn’t think you went to dances, business or not.”
“I don’t. Calhoun gets drunk if I don’t baby-sit him,” he said, grinning at his brother’s outraged expression.
“Like hell I do,” Calhoun replied. “I remember a night when you tied one on royally and I put you to bed.”
Justin pursed his lips. “We all lose our heads occasionally,” he said. “Don’t we, Abby?” he added with a glance in her direction and then in Calhoun’s. Abby flushed, and Calhoun turned his back and headed for the front door, holding it open for the rest of them without another word. Justin only smiled.
“Shelby’s going, too,” Tyler remarked to Abby as they walked out. “I had to twist her arm, but she needs some diversion. She’s working a six-day week for the first time in her life, and it’s rough.”
Justin didn’t say a word, but if that quiet unblinking gaze meant what Abby thought it did, he was listening intently. She wondered just how many fireworks a dance hall could stand. Behind her, Calhoun was glaring at her and at Tyler with a scowl so hot that she would have grown warm if she’d seen it.
The dance hall was jumping. The Jones boys’ band was playing a toe-tapping Western medley, and the dance floor was full. Old Ben Joiner, his fiddle in his hand, was calling the dance, his voice rising deep and clear above the music as he told the dancers what to do and when.
“Nice crowd,” Tyler remarked. He and Abby had arrived after Justin and Calhoun. The two of them were at a table with a third man who looked pitifully out of place.
“Yes, it is nice. What do the brothers want with Fred Harriman, I wonder?” she asked, thinking out loud as she and Tyler headed toward the table where Shelby was sitting all alone.
“You’re in a position to know better than I am,” Tyler returned, “but I expect he wants the brothers to feed out his new cattle for him.” Tyler glanced at his sister and saw where her big, soulful green eyes were staring. “God, she’s got it bad,” he said under his breath.
Abby noticed, too, and touched his sleeve. “Justin doesn’t date, either. Do you suppose there’s any chance for them?”
“Not after what he thinks she did,” Tyler replied tersely. “And talking about it won’t butter any biscuits. Hi, sis,” he said more loudly, smiling at his sister as he pulled out a chair for Abby and then sat down himself.
“Hi,” Shelby said with a grin. “Abby, you look gorgeous.”
“So do you.” Abby sighed. “You don’t know what I’d give to be as pretty as you are.”
“Oh, go on,” Shelby murmured, embarrassed. But she did look pretty, her dark hair coiled on her head with a bow holding it, her green Western-style dress exactly matching her eyes and showing off her beautiful figure.
“I wish things had worked out for you. Your job must be rough,” Abby commiserated.
Shelby smiled back. “Oh, I like it,” she said. “And at least we’ve got the house. We’ll finish the last details of the sale next week, and then all the gossip will die down and we’ll have our privacy back.” She picked up her glass of ginger ale and sipped it. “I hope you don’t mind my being a third wheel….”
“You go on,” Abby replied. “You know Ty and I are just friends. I’m glad to have your company, and I’m sure your brother is, too.”
Tyler smiled, but the look he sent her over Shelby’s oblivious head wasn’t quite platonic.
“Let’s get in that next set,” Tyler said, pulling Abby up by the hand. “Shelby, order Abby and me a ginger ale, would you?” he asked his sister.
She grinned. “Of course.”
Abby stared at Tyler as he led her into the throng of dancers. “I can have a gin and tonic if I want to.”
“Not while you’re out with me,” he said firmly, leading her into place in front of him. “I don’t drink. That means you don’t drink.”
“Spoilsport,” she sighed.
He chuckled. “Shame on you. You don’t need booze to have a good time.”
“I know. But I had looked forward to being treated like an adult,” she told him.
“Well, don’t give up hope,” he said, his voice deep and soft as his lean hand curled around her waist. “The night’s still young yet.”
Abby smiled, because of course he was just flirting. She let him jostle her around the dance floor, graceful on his feet, expertly leading her through the twists and turns and shuffles and exchanges. Abby was having a great time until she glanced at the table where Justin and Calhoun were sitting. Justin’s dark eyes kept darting over to Shelby. Abby was too far away to read his expression. Calhoun, on the other hand, was glaring at Abby and Tyler with enough venom for ten rattlesnakes.
Her heart leaped at the jealousy she saw on his face. Maybe there was still a little hope. The thought perked her up, and she began to smile, and then to laugh. Tyler mistook her response for pleasure in his company, and so did Calhoun. By the time the dance was over, Abby was caught in the middle of a building storm.
It threatened to explode when Calhoun, sick of watching Abby with Tyler, went and asked Shelby to dance.
Shelby was hesitant because Justin had just straightened at his table and looked capable of starting a world war all by himself.
“He won’t mind,” Calhoun said. “You look lonely sitting here by yourself.”
“Oh, Calhoun, don’t start anything,” she pleaded.
“I won’t,” he promised. “Now come and dance with me.”
Shelby gave in, but her lovely face was troubled.
Abby watched them go onto the dance floor, and her spirits fell. Shelby and Calhoun looked good together, her brunette beauty a perfect foil for his blond good looks. Abby felt plain and unattractive by comparison. She stared at Ty’s chest, hopelessly depressed. What if Calhoun had come because of Shelby? What if he was courting her now? She felt sick.
“I feel like I’m sitting on a time bomb,” Tyler