Diana Palmer Texan Lovers. Diana Palmer
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Myers’s flirting had upset him. He didn’t want her to know that he’d been so violently jealous that he couldn’t even trust himself to have lunch with the man and had had to call Justin to intervene.
But Abby didn’t know that, and she was sure that it was just Calhoun being overprotective as usual. It hurt her to hear about where he was going. Abby felt as if she were being choked to death. If only she were beautiful and blond, if only she could cope! But she managed to hide her emptiness. “That’s great, Calhoun, you just enjoy yourself while I sit home alone. I’ll never get a date as long as you’re two steps behind me.”
“Dream on,” Calhoun told her. “Hell will freeze over before you’d go out with a man like that.”
“There’s a little town called Hell, you know,” Abby told him. “It does snow there….”
“If I were you I’d go home, Abby,” Justin said, eyeing his brother. “It’s Friday night. You might find a nice movie to watch. Come to think of it, I just bought a new war movie. You can watch it with me if you want to.”
She smiled. Justin really was nice. “Thanks. I might do that, since my watchdog doesn’t want me out after dark,” she added with a glare at Calhoun. “I’ll bet Elizabeth the First had a guardian just like you!”
Justin caught Calhoun’s arm in the nick of time, and Abby took off running, her heart in her throat. It was odd how Calhoun, usually so easygoing, had turned explosive lately. She did goad him, of course, but she couldn’t help it. Fighting him was the only way she could stay sane and hide her feelings for him. If she ever started batting her eyelashes and sighing over him, he’d probably shoot her off the place like a bullet.
She started her car and drove home, all the fury dying into misery as she left the feedlot behind. What good was pretending? Her heart was broken, because Calhoun was going out with one of his women and she didn’t qualify for that title. She never would. She’d grow old with Calhoun patting her on the head. Once or twice she’d almost thought he felt something for her, that he’d begun to notice her. But if he had, he certainly wouldn’t be running all over the place with other women. And he wouldn’t ignore Abby unless she started a fight or got into trouble. She was his responsibility, of course. His headache. To him she was anything but a warm, attractive woman whom he might love eventually. That she’d never be.
By the time she got to the house, she felt sick all over, but a plan was beginning to form in her mind. If Calhoun thought she was giving in that easily, he was in for a shock. She could have a good time, too, even if she didn’t have a date. By golly, she’d get out and find herself one!
Abby ate a solitary meal. Justin was called to the phone shortly after they got home, and he told Maria to put his dinner on a tray so he could eat it while he watched the movie he’d bought. Calhoun had come home to change for his date, and Abby had made a beeline for her room and stayed there until after he’d left. She didn’t even care how it looked; she was sick at the thought of Calhoun with some faceless blonde. That was when she knew she had to break out, even if just for the evening.
She hadn’t started out to rebel. But she couldn’t sit home and watch the movie with Justin. She’d never hear a word of it; she’d just brood about Calhoun.
So she got dressed in slacks and a blouse and brushed her hair. Then she called Misty.
“How do you feel about helping me rebel?” she asked the older girl.
Misty laughed huskily. “You’re lucky my date canceled out. Okay. I’m game. What are we rebelling against?”
“Calhoun caught me at the revue last night and dragged me home,” Abby told her. “And today he…Well, never mind, but he set me off again. So tonight I thought I’d like to sample that new dance bar in Jacobsville.”
“Now that is an idea worthy of you, Abby. I’ll pick you up in fifteen minutes.”
“I’ll be ready.”
Abby ran downstairs, giving no thought at all to how Calhoun was going to react to this latest rebellion. Well, he had his woman, damn him. Horrible pictures of his bronzed body in bed with the faceless blonde danced in front of Abby’s eyes. No, she told herself, she wasn’t going to let Calhoun’s actions hurt her like that. She was going to get out and live!
She poked her head into the living room. Cigarette smoke drifted in front of a screen on which men in uniforms were blowing each other up.
“I’m going out with Misty,” she told Justin.
He glanced up from where he was sitting. His long legs were crossed over the coffee table, and he had a snifter of brandy in one hand and a cigarette in the other. “Okay, honey,” he said agreeably. “Stay out of trouble, will you? You and Calhoun are hell on the digestion lately, and he doesn’t seem to need much excuse to go for your throat.”
“I’ll behave. Misty and I are just going to that new dance place. I’ll be good, honest I will. Good night.”
“Good night.”
He went back to the bullets and bombs, and she closed the door with a sigh. Justin was so nice. He never tried to hog-tie her. Now why couldn’t Calhoun be like that? She felt murderous when she considered Calhoun’s possessiveness. She was entitled to a life that didn’t revolve around him. There was just no sense in wearing her heart out on his taciturn indifference. None at all!
Misty came ten minutes later. Thank God, Calhoun didn’t reappear. With a sigh of relief, Abby ran out to Misty’s little sports car, all smiles, her breaking heart carefully concealed from her all-too-perceptive girlfriend.
It was Friday night, and the Jacobsville Dance Palace was booming. It had a live Western band on the weekends, and while it did serve hard liquor, it wasn’t the kind of dive Calhoun had forbidden her to frequent. Not that she cared one whit about his strictures, of course.
Abby glanced apprehensively toward the doorway, across the crowded room where cigar and cigarette smoke made a gray haze under bright lights. The band’s rhythm shook the rafters. Couples danced on the bare wood floor, the men in Western gear, the women in jeans and boots.
“Calhoun won’t know you’re here, I tell you.” Misty laughed softly. “Honestly, it’s ridiculous the way he dogs your footsteps lately.”
“That’s what I keep telling him, but it does no good at all,” Abby replied miserably. “I just want to get out on my own.”
“I’m doing my best,” Misty assured her. “Any day now I’ll have some new apartment prospects for us to look at. I’ve got a real estate agent helping.”
“Good.” Abby sipped her drink, trying not to notice the blatant stare she was getting from the man at the next table. He’d been eyeing her ever since she and Misty had walked in, and he was giving her the willies. He looked about Calhoun’s age, but he lacked Calhoun’s attractive masculinity. This man was dark headed and had a beer belly. He wasn’t much taller than Abby, but what he lacked in height he made up in girth. He had a cowboy hat pulled low over his small eyes, and he was obviously intoxicated.
“He’s staring at me again,” Abby muttered. She lifted her gin and tonic to her lips, wondering at how much better it tasted every time she took a sip. She hated gin, but Misty had convinced her that she couldn’t sit at the table drinking ginger ale.
“Don’t worry,” Misty patted her arm. “He’ll give up and go away. There’s Tyler! Hi, Ty!”
Tyler Jacobs was tall and rangy-looking. He had green eyes and an arrogant smile, and Abby was a little afraid of him. But he didn’t carry his wealth around on his shoulders as some rich men did, and he wasn’t a snob, even though the town of Jacobsville took its name from his grandfather.
“Hello, Misty. Abby.” Tyler pulled out a chair