Free Late Last Night (River Bend) by Lilian Darcy Page B

two of them, standing here. And if they couldn’t talk, then she couldn’t give him her heart, the way she wanted to. Giving him her heart might be a huge disaster, anyhow.
    There was a beat of silence, then he said, “Better leave you alone, then.”
    “I—I think so.”
    “Later. I’ll call tomorrow.”
    “That would be good.”
    “But not too early, because I’m guessing you’re going to have a late night.”
    “I expect so. Official finish time is eleven, but I’ll be helping clear up. It’ll probably be midnight before I get out of here.”
    “Definitely won’t call too early, then. Lots to talk about, though.”
    You’ve taken your property off the market.
    “Yes.” She smiled at him, and realized too late that she’d closed her eyes at the same time, making it the blankest, most distancing smile possible. Or maybe the most bruised, vulnerable smile, if he read her too clearly.
    Pull back, Kate. Have some dignity and self-respect.
    The little chill in the air between them deepened enough for him to feel it, now, and to be in no doubt. She saw him frown. “Boy, I really wish we could talk now.”
    “So do I, but we can’t.” There were three cars lined up, waiting to let out their passengers. Kate hadn’t seen Neve and Gemma or their dates yet, so maybe the earlier prediction was correct—they were deliberately planning a late, eye-catching arrival.
    She went lower down the steps, focusing on the kids and their parents, making a comment about how fabulous everyone looked, and how well they’d responded to the “Shine on!” theme.
    Harrison took himself back to the classic Buick, and she couldn’t stop herself from taking a look. He’d put his hand absent-mindedly into the cream-filled 1950s hair and made it greasy. She saw him fumble in a pocket for a handkerchief to wipe with, and then he turned in her direction again and their gazes locked for about the space of a heartbeat.
    He looked so good.
    And worried.
    And what did that mean?
     

 
     
    Chapter Seven
     
     
    It was a long evening for Kate.
    Too much faked smiling, too much straining to hear above the music. Ruth Wilson and Sam Stenhouse seemed to be having a fight. Ruth spent most of the night draped over Ren Fletcher instead. Kate thought Ren still minded about Tully’s absence, but she hadn’t heard anything about the reason for it. If anyone knew, they weren’t saying it very loud.
    Neve Shepherd and her friends arrived when supper had been cleared away and the dancing had begun, and they made sure that their entrance was loud, eye-catching and bold. Neve looked amazing, her bare skin flawless, her blue eyes made smoky around the edges by makeup that could have been applied by a professional. Her bold pink bow of a mouth matched the pink of her dress. She was laughing and vibrant and knew she was the center of attention, along with the Sheenan twins and Gemma Clayton and Lorelai Grey.
    Neve’s date, Jay Brown, was content to keep a lower profile. He shone in Neve’s reflected light, rather than light of his own. Garth Newell, too, seemed untouched by the atmosphere, and even Gemma seemed to be putting on a show mainly to please Neve, playing courtier to her queen. Neve hadn’t been chosen as official prom queen, but she and Jay out-shone the actual royal prom couple so much that it was almost embarrassing.
    Kate thought that they were all thinking more about the after-party than the prom itself. They left fifteen minutes early, and the night limped to a close. She felt angry on behalf of the hard-working committee who’d worked so hard to organize it. There was no reason why the gym should feel empty and dull after Neve and her crowd had left. There were still plenty of people here, the music was playing, people were hugging and laughing, or hugging and crying, saying they’d never forget tonight.
    And yet it was emptier and duller. Neve was like that, a star, a magnet, and Kate honestly didn’t know if it came from