Free The Rancher's Dance by Allison Leigh Page A

floor.

Chapter Four
    H e should have cut out his tongue.
    But now it was too late.
    The dancer was turning against him, putting one hand on his chest and drawing his other—the one she was holding—around to the small of her back. She tilted back her head to look up at him and her river of blond hair tickled his arm. “Where’s Shelby tonight?”
    He didn’t know what he’d have done with his hand if she weren’t still holding it in place behind her, but he was pretty certain it wouldn’t have involved lingering there, absorbing how delicate—how feminine—that faint hollow felt. He stared at the mirror that hung on the wall behind the bar. “Spending the night with her friend, Annie Pope.”
    â€œAh. She mentioned Annie. Evidently she wants to be a horse?” She smiled slightly.
    He knew because he saw it in the mirror.
    Hell. Might as well be looking at her face if he was going to watch her anyway.
    â€œShe also told me her brother was home for his birthday?”
    â€œFor the weekend, yeah. He flies out again tomorrow night. He’s taking classes over the summer.”
    â€œGood for him. Must be a hard worker.”
    He glanced at his son. “He’s a good kid.”
    â€œHow old is he?”
    â€œTwenty-one as of today.” He still found it hard to believe.
    â€œAh.” Her dimple flashed mischievously. “Out for his first drink?”
    Beck made a face. “His first legal one anyway. He is in college.”
    Her smile widened. “What’s he studying?”
    â€œArchitecture.”
    â€œFollowing in your footsteps,” she observed. “Makes a father proud.”
    He didn’t take credit for Nick’s successes. That was owed as much to Harmony as it was to him.
    â€œI have to say you don’t really look old enough to have a grown son,” she continued.
    â€œFeel old enough,” he murmured.
    She moistened her lips, looking strangely discomfited. “Do you, uh, like country music?”
    â€œOnly thing I’ve ever heard playing here.”
    Her eyebrows rose. She finally let go of his hand behind her back, which was good.
    But all she did was loop her two hands loosely around his neck instead.
    Which was bad.
    He stared over her head again and wondered what the hell he was doing.
    â€œThat wasn’t exactly an answer,” she pointed out after a moment.
    â€œIt’s music,” he said evenly. “It’s as good as any other.” Right now the song was going on in a slow, swaying lament which only meant that they were moving in a slow, swaying torment.
    â€œIn other words you don’t give a rat’s patootie.”
    He looked down at her, catching the amused glint in her eyes. He felt his lips tilt. “Not really.”
    She blinked and suddenly looked away. “So you do remember how.”
    Just that abruptly, amusement slid into awareness.
    Heat streaked down his spine. Coiled low in his gut.
    He wanted to swear.
    Holding her in his arms had been a serious lapse in judgment.
    Because he remembered how to do a lot of things, and every one of them was banging around inside his head reminding him just how long it had been since he’d been with a woman.
    â€œRemember how to smile, I mean,” Lucy continued, making him wonder if he was that easy to read.
    â€œYeah.” He cleared his throat. “I remember.” The song ended, moving seamlessly into another, and he stepped back as the beat picked up. “That’s it for me,” he said. “Thanks.”
    She said nothing as he backed away. Just watched him with those pale eyes that seemed to see too much.
    Like the fact that he was escaping, pure and simple.
    Nick had moved on from the statuesque blonde to a petite brunette, and his father was still sticking close to the Reeves woman. Neither one noticed when Beck aimed straight for the exit.
    Outside, he sucked in a deep breath of fresh