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Chapter Three
“H e kissed you! You’re telling me he kissed you! Robert Buckwalter the Third kissed you!”
Jenny’s sister was screeching so loudly Jenny had to hold the cell phone away from her ear. She’d slipped outside so that she could finish the phone conversation in private. She shivered from the cold.
“After he kissed Mrs. Hargrove,” Jenny said as she wiped one hand on her chef’s apron. The coarse bleached muslin steadied her. She was a chef. An employee. “He’s my boss. He can’t kiss me. He didn’t even say he loved me.”
“Love! He loves you!” her sister screeched even louder.
“No, he didn’t say that—that’s what I’m saying. He didn’t even attempt to be sincere.”
“But he kissed you.”
The Montana night was lit by some stars and a perfectly round moon. Silver shadows fell on the snow where the reflection of the barn light showed through the barn door and two square side windows. A jumble of cars and trucks were parked in the road leading up to the barn.
“Maybe he did it because I talked to you about him. Maybe there’s some servant’s code I breached when I told secrets about the master. You know, maybe it’s a revenge thing.”
Jenny could hear the pause on the other end of the phone. The silence lasted for a full minute.
Finally her sister spoke. “Have you been taking those vitamins Mom sent you?”
“Well, yes, but what does that have to do with anything?”
“You’re getting old. First you don’t even wonder about whether or not the man is married and now he kisses you—Robert Buckwalter the Third actually kisses you—and you think it’s for revenge!”
“Well, it could be.”
“Men like him don’t kiss for revenge! They use lawsuits. Or buyouts. Corporate takeovers. They use termination. He could fire you. But not kisses! Kisses are for romance.”
Jenny snorted. “I smell like fish and my hair is flat. No man’s kissing me for romance.”
“You’re in your chef’s apron?” Some of the bubble drained out of her sister’s voice. “With that funny hairnet on?”
“And orthopedic white shoes because I’m standing so much. And no makeup because the steam from the lobster pots would make my mascara run. And I even have a butter stain on my apron—not a big one, but it’s there in the left corner.”
“Then why is he kissing you?” her sister wailed and then caught herself. “Not that—I mean you’re real attractive when you’re…well, you know—”
“Those are my thoughts exactly. I might pass for someone in his social circle when I’m dressed up—heels, makeup, the works.”
“You looked real good in that black dress you wore last New Year’s.”
“But in my working clothes, I’m more likely to attract a raving lunatic than a rich man.”
“Are you sure you don’t have some exotic perfume on? One of those musk oil scents?”
“Not a drop.”
“Well, this isn’t fair, then. A man like this Buckwalter fellow shouldn’t go around kissing women just for kicks. He could hurt their feelings.”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. He’s so rich he doesn’t need to worry about anyone’s feelings. Especially the feelings of his employees.”
It was the dumped pet thing all over again. The rich were rich enough to be selfish. They didn’t care about their pets. They didn’t care about other people. That was all there was to it. The normal courtesies of life didn’t apply to people like Robert Buckwalter.
Jenny looked over toward the barn. Mrs. Hargrove stood in the open doorway watching her anxiously. She was motioning for her to come back inside.
“I think they need me.” Jenny waved Mrs. Hargrove back into the warm barn. “It must be lobster time. Talk to you later.”
“Call me.”
“I will—wait.” She’d just thought of something. “When you talked to Robert Buckwalter earlier, did you tell him he was number one on the list or did you just say you were thinking of making him number one?”
“Oh, I couldn’t tell him he was number one. I said maybe, but I didn’t say it had been settled. That’s not decided. Besides, it’s confidential.”
“I see. Thanks. I’ll call you later.”
Jenny slipped the cell phone into the front pocket of her chef’s apron. Well, that explained everything. Robert Buckwalter thought a kiss might nudge him into that first-place position. Cozy up to the sister of someone with influence on the list and—presto—he’s at the top. It was a game as old as mankind.
The heat inside the barn enfolded Jenny when she stepped across the threshold. She rubbed her arms. She’d been so angry she hadn’t noticed the goose bumps that had crept up her arms. It was freezing outside.
“There you are, dear,” Mrs. Hargrove said. The older woman stepped toward her. “I was worried. I forgot to tell you that there’s been a threat of kidnapping tonight. Garth Elkton has cautioned all the women to stay inside.”
“A kidnapping? Here?”
Jenny looked around in astonishment. She couldn’t imagine a less likely place for a kidnapping. The teenagers had strung pink and white crepe paper from the rafters, making Jenny feel as if she were trapped in Candy Land. Dozens of ranchers and their wives sat at the long white tables at the back of the barn. Some of the ranchers had arms as big as wrestlers. What kind of army would it take to kidnap someone from here tonight?
“But who—?” Jenny asked.
“Garth Elkton got a strange call warning him that someone was out to get his sister.”
“Francis!” Jenny had met the woman earlier and liked her instantly. “But who would want to kidnap her?”
Mrs. Hargrove leaned close. “Some folks say it’s an old boyfriend of hers. But I don’t believe them. Flint Harris is a good boy. I always thought Dry Creek would be proud of him one day.”
Jenny looked over at the string of men standing along the far side of the barn. Most of them wore dark cowboy work boots and had the raw look of a new shave on their faces. “Which one is he?”
“Why, none of them, dear. Flint Harris hasn’t been in Dry Creek for almost twenty years now.”
“Well, then, surely he’s not a threat.”
Mrs. Hargrove shrugged. “I’ve never believed he was. Everyone’s so wound up about this cattle rustling that’s going on that we’re making fools of ourselves, I’m afraid. Folks are saying now that the FBI thinks that someone from Dry Creek is tipping off the cattle rustlers. Imagine that! It’s rattled a lot of folks, but I don’t set much store by it. It’ll all blow over. But it’s best that you be careful. If you need to go over to the café, let me know and I’ll get one of the ranch hands to go with you.”
Jenny nodded. “I think we have everything we need to get started.”
Steam from the lobsters kept the air inside the barn moist and Jenny could smell the coffee someone had set to brew.
Mrs. Buckwalter took charge, thanking everyone for coming and asking Matthew Curtis, the newly married minister, to say a blessing on the celebration meal. He agreed and asked everyone to join hands.
Jenny offered one hand to Mrs. Hargrove and the other to a young girl with rosy cheeks standing next to her.
The whole town of Dry Creek held hands and then closed their eyes.
“For the blessings You have given, we thank You, Lord,” the minister prayed. He held the hand of his new bride, a fresh-faced redhead that people had been calling Angel all night long. “For this food eaten with friends, we are most grateful. Keep us in Your love. Amen.”
“And thanks for my money, too,” the young girl at Jenny’s side whispered quietly, her eyes still squeezed shut.
Jenny hadn’t noticed that the girl wasn’t holding someone’s hand on the other side of her. Instead she was clutching a green piece of paper that looked like a check.
“Maybe you should put that with your coat.” Jenny nodded her head in the general direction of a few chairs near the door that were haphazardly piled with coats. “You wouldn’t want to lose your allowance.”
“I don’t get an allowance,” the girl whispered. “But I don’t need one now, because I’m rich.”
“We’ve got a lot to be grateful for.” Jenny smiled down at the girl. What did it matter if the girl kept her few dollars in her hand if it made her feel better?
“I’m especially grateful for him,” the girl whispered again.
Jenny followed the girl’s gaze and it led her straight to the tuxedoed back of—“Robert Buckwalter!” Jenny looked down at the girl in alarm. The sweet young thing’s face glowed in adoration. “What’s he done to you?”
Jenny looked at the broad shoulders of the man who was causing trouble. It wasn’t enough that he’d kissed Jenny and Mrs. Hargrove, he’d obviously kissed others, too.
Robert looked perfectly at ease, talking with a couple of teenage boys who were fidgeting with their ties. It almost looked like he was giving them a lesson in how to make a tie bearable.
Jenny wished he would turn around and face her. It wasn’t nearly as satisfying to scowl at a man’s back as it would be to scowl at his face.
Folding chairs had been pulled close to the long table. People everywhere were walking toward the chairs and sitting down.
Jenny looked over and caught the eye of one of the ranch hands. She nodded for him to begin serving the lobsters like they had arranged earlier.
“I’ll be right with you.” Jenny was in charge of bringing the melted butter to the table, but it would take a minute for the lobsters to make the rounds and she had something to do before she served it.
“Excuse me,” Jenny said. Her eyes were level with the back shoulder of Robert Buckwalter and she could feel the stiffness in her own spine. That poor innocent girl was no match for a man like this and Jenny felt she must protest his flirtation with her.
The man turned around. “Jenny!”
Jenny almost stumbled. The man said her name with joy.
“I know this is a party—” Jenny kept her eyes focused on Robert Buckwalter’s chin. She didn’t want to lose her nerve. She had stuck up for her younger siblings for years. She’d stick up for that young girl. “—and a dance at that. But you’re an adult and you have to know that a child—well, you’re old enough to be her father and I think you should remember that.”
“I’m old enough to be whose father?”
Jenny lifted her gaze from his chin to his eyes. If she didn’t know better, she would say he was puzzled. And his eyes were distracting. A clear sky blue. They made her dizzy and annoyed at the same time.
“All of them,” she snapped. “You’re old enough to be father to all of the kids here.”
“Well, that’s stretching it, but if it makes you feel better, I assure you I’m not father to anyone—especially no one in this room.”
“You shouldn’t kiss them then.”
Jenny kept her voice low. She hadn’t forgotten about the teenage boys who were standing close enough to hear what she was saying if she wasn’t careful.
Robert had no such need for privacy. “Kissing? When?”
Suddenly the air became supercharged.
“Kissing!” A teenage boy yelled out and then gave a piercing basketball whistle. “Hey everybody—he’s gonna kiss her again!”
Jenny paled and she looked back at Robert. His eyes had deepened from sky blue to a midnight blue. And he was starting to grin.
“You shouldn’t have mentioned kisses,” he said.
“What’s going on?” Jenny felt as if she’d landed in a science-fiction movie. She turned around. She was suddenly surrounded by twenty, maybe thirty teenagers and they were all noisily aiming cheap disposable cameras at her.
“I suppose we should blame my mother. She bought them the cameras so they could take pictures of the wildlife in Montana.”
“But what do they want with us? We don’t even live in Montana. I grew up in Seattle. I don’t even know what the wildlife here looks like. I’ve never seen an elk, or a mountain sheep, or—”
“I think,” Robert said, as he touched her shoulders and turned her around until she was facing him again, “they want to see this.”
Robert dipped his head toward her and Jenny’s heart stopped. She knew he meant to kiss her. It was obvious. But she couldn’t move. She meant to move. Her mind assured her of that. It was her feet. Her feet had betrayed her and turned to stone.
Robert’s lips met hers and Jenny’s feet melted. She could hardly stand. She put her arms on his shoulders more for support than anything.
Ahhh. It was sweet. Very sweet.
Jenny felt like she went to a distant place where there was nothing but this man kissing her. Everything else was fuzzy. Then she saw a bright light. And heard a faint click. Then another click. This is it, she thought. Her heart was giving out. The end was always described as coming with a bright light. She wasn’t sure about the clicking. She should have paid more attention in Sunday school. She bet Mrs. Hargrove knew about the clicking. Jenny only hoped it didn’t have anything to do with that other place. Could it be fire crackling? She really should have paid more attention.
Then the light wavered and Jenny blinked.
The kiss stopped.
She glanced up and saw his face. Robert Buckwalter looked as stunned as she felt.
“It’s the cameras,” Jenny finally whispered. She wasn’t dying, after all.
“I heard bells.”
“No, it was just the clicking.” Jenny pulled away from him slightly so she could check her feet.
Her feet would work, Jenny assured herself as she pulled away farther. She suddenly needed more room. “I’ve got to see to the butter.”
“Are you going for it again?” one of the teenage boys yelled out. “I’ve still got five shots left on my camera. Might as well fill it up.”
“Yeah, me, too,” another boy added.
“I heard bells,” Robert Buckwalter repeated slowly.
“You heard clicking,” Jenny said forcefully. She took a deep breath. “To you it sounded like bells. To me it sounded like the fires of…” She took another quick breath. “Just how gullible do you think I am? I’m not doing anything about that list, so you can just forget this—this—” Jenny waved her hand, but could not finish the sentence. This what? This earthquake? This landslide? Everything seemed more something than simply this kiss.
“Besides, I have the butter to serve,” Jenny said with dignity as she pulled herself away. She congratulated herself. Her feet worked perfectly well.
The lobsters were all eaten and the butter dishes empty before Robert felt free to escape from the party and sit on the steps leading out of the barn door.
He was a mess. Some love song was filling the barn with swaying rhythm and dozens of couples were dancing together. He should be dancing. He should be in there dancing with the woman who had turned him inside out, but he wasn’t. Jenny was bustling around making sure everyone had coffee. Everyone, that is, except him. He was sure she wouldn’t offer him any even if he stood in front of her like a beggar with an empty cup.
One thing was clear—Jenny had little use for Robert Buckwalter. What wasn’t clear was if she could love Bob instead.
“Mind if I join you?”
Robert looked up to see Matthew Curtis, the minister, coming out of the barn.
“Help yourself.” Robert moved over on the steps. The steps were wooden and had been swept clean of snow even though they were still cold enough to make a man notice when he was changing spots. “There’s room for both of us on these steps.”
“I could get us chairs from inside,” Matthew offered as he turned to go back in the barn. “That’s what I should do—get us some nice folding chairs.”
“I haven’t seen anyone else use folding chairs.”
“Well, we don’t, but you’re—”
“I’m what?”
Robert wondered how much trouble he could get in if he took a swing at a minister. “Go ahead, tell me. I’m what?”
The night air was damp. Snow wasn’t falling, but the air was heavy with the promise of a blizzard later. Clouds covered most of the stars and half of the moon.
Matthew turned and stepped down next to Robert. “I’d guess right now you’re a man who’s just feeling bad. Want to talk about it?”
Robert realized he did. “You might not understand how it is with me.”
“No, probably not,” Matthew agreed as he settled onto the steps. “Can’t say I’ve ever had the problems of a rich man.”
“What makes you think it’s got to do with money?”
Matthew shrugged. “Just a guess. You’re rich. That’s got to be a burden—although I’d guess it’s a little less of a burden after tonight.”
Robert looked at him.
“All those rolls of film you bought from the kids must have set you back a pretty penny. I heard them saying you were paying one thousand dollars for each picture they got of you kissing Jenny. I heard them cameras each take twenty-four shots. One of the kids is still kicking himself for taking three shots of the decorations before you started your kissing. Can’t blame him. I almost got a camera myself and started taking pictures. That’s going to be a half-million-dollar kiss when you’ve paid off all the kids.”
“Does Jenny know about this?” Robert wasn’t so sure he wanted her to find out about this when she was carrying around a pot of hot coffee. She might be inclined to throw some of it his way without benefit of a cup.
“No. The kids are keeping quiet like you asked. They’re tiptoeing around her. But they’re so excited, they’re going to burst if they don’t tell someone. I’d guess a few of the adults know. And they’re all wondering why—”
“It seemed like a good idea.” Robert paused. The air was cold enough to make puff clouds of his breath. “It started with Bambi. I thought she should go to college someday.”
Matthew nodded. “You’re a generous man. That should make you feel good.”
“It should.”
“But it doesn’t?”
“It’s not enough. The way I see it, I’m missing something.”
Matthew nodded. “Go on.”
“I have too many friends. No, that’s not right. They’re not really friends. They’re only people who like me because I’m rich. Because I have all the toys. Each one of those kids in there has a better friend and is a better friend to someone than I am. That’s a hard realization to come to. If I died, it’s not me people would miss, it’s my toys.”
“You planning on dying?”
“Well, no, not anytime soon.” Robert realized it was hard to pin down the hollow feeling he had. “But if I did—”
Matthew nodded again. “What’s troubling you is that you need to be part of the kingdom and you’re not.”
Robert stopped. He’d heard there were militia groups in Montana. He wondered if he’d stumbled across one. They’d sure love to recruit a rich man like him who could buy them enough ammunition to start a small war.
“The kingdom?” Robert asked cautiously.
“Sure, the kingdom of God,” Matthew said calmly. “It’s all that will fill up that empty feeling. When you’re ready, we’ll talk about it.”
“I don’t think it has to do with God.”
Matthew grinned as he stood. “I know. You think it all has to do with that cute chef inside who’s in need of a dance. If you don’t ask her, somebody else is going to beat you to it.”
“She won’t dance with me.”
Matthew grinned even wider. “Well, maybe not the first time you ask her. But you’re Robert Buckwalter the Third. Way I hear it, you know about all there is about charming women.”
The minister stepped inside the barn and Robert stood up and brushed himself off before following him.
The minister was right. He did know how to charm women. He just wasn’t sure charm would work with someone like Jenny.
The music was softer now. Even the kids were slowing down.
Robert went over to the refreshment table and got a glass of punch to work up his nerve. Jenny was still flitting about filling up coffee cups for those people who were sitting around the edge of the dance space and talking. He’d studied her pattern. She needed to return to the refreshment table to refill her thermal pot after every tenth cup. She was due back any minute now.
When she came back, he would ask her to dance with him.
Chapter Four
“W ell, I hope you’re happy now,” Jenny said as she set the thermal coffeepot down on the refreshment table and glared at Robert Buckwalter. “Throwing your money around like it’s confetti.”
Robert stiffened. He looked around at the teenagers dancing. He hoped no one had told her what he was buying with the money. None of the dancers were looking at him in apology. “No one else is complaining.”
“Of course they’re not complaining.” Jenny turned to the big coffeepot and twisted the knob on its spigot so it would slowly fill the smaller thermal coffeepot. The mellow smell of brewed coffee drifted up from the pot. She looked up and continued her conversation. “What do you expect? They’re teenagers. They love money.”
“Money has its uses.”
Jenny switched off the knob. The small pot was full. And she was tired to the bone. She’d been a fool. There for a blinding moment she’d thought Robert Buckwalter was a regular kind of a guy who just happened to be rich. What kind of rabbit hole had she fallen down? She should know better. No one just happened to be rich. Money changed everyone. “Not everything in the world revolves around money.”
“I know.”
“You can’t buy friends with money—not even the friendship of teenagers.” After Jenny said the words, she corrected herself. Those teenagers certainly spoke of Robert with enough enthusiasm to count him a friend. And the checks were awfully big. She’d seen one of them.
Robert grinned. The kids had managed to keep his secret. Jenny didn’t know why he’d been throwing checks around. “I didn’t give them the money so they’d be my friends.”
“Well, with the size of those checks—they should be something.”
“I’m hoping they will be something someday.”
Jenny looked at him suspiciously.
“Something for themselves. I’m hoping they’ll go to college—maybe learn a trade—be good citizens,” Robert explained. “Grow up to be their own something. What’s wrong with that?”
Jenny was silent for a moment. “Nothing.”
Her sister was right, Jenny thought in defeat. She, Jenny M. Black, was turning into one of those fussy old women. Picking a fight with a perfectly innocent man just because he’d given away some of his money. And that wasn’t even the real reason. The real reason was the kiss. And that was just as foolish. In his social circles, a kiss was nothing more than a handshake.
“Who you give money to is none of my business,” Jenny said stiffly as she put the lid back on the small coffeepot. “I owe you an apology.”
“I’ll take a dance instead.” Robert held his breath. He’d seen the loophole and dived through it, but it wasn’t a smooth move. He’d done better courting when he was sixteen. He had no polish left. He was reduced to the bare truth. “I’ve been hoping you’d save a dance for me.”
Jenny looked at him like he was crazy. “Save a dance? Me? I’m not dancing.”
“And why not?”
Jenny held up the coffeepot. She hated to point out the obvious. “I’m here to see that others have a good time. That’s what your mother pays me to do and I intend to do it. I, for one, believe in earning my money.”
“I could pa—” Robert started to tease and then stopped. He didn’t know how she’d twist his offer to pay for a dance, but he could see trouble snapping in her eyes already. “My mother doesn’t expect you to wait on people all night.”
Robert looked over to where his mother was talking with Mrs. Hargrove. They were sitting on two folding chairs by the door to the barn. If his mother wasn’t so intent on the conversation, he knew she would have already come over and told Jenny to take it easy.
“You’re not going to ask her, are you?” Jenny looked horrified.
“Not if you don’t want me to. But if you’re so determined to give people coffee. I could pass some around for you. With two of us working, it’d take half the time. How much coffee can everyone drink?”
“I can manage.”
“No one should be drinking coffee at this time of night anyway.” Robert wondered if he’d completely lost his touch. She shouldn’t still be frowning at him. Any other woman would be untying those apron strings and smiling at him by now.
“It’s decaf.”
“Still. There’s all this punch.” Robert gestured to the half-full bowl of pink punch. The color of the punch had faded as the evening wore on, and the ice had melted. The plastic dipper was half floating in the liquid. “Pity to see it go to waste.”
“The punch drinkers are all dancing.” Jenny looked out at the dance floor wistfully. The only people left drinking coffee were the single men, mostly the ranch hands from Garth Elkton’s place. The teenagers had downed many a cup of punch after dinner, but they were all dancing now.
Robert followed her gaze. “The kids are doing their best, aren’t they?”
The swish of taffeta skirts rustled all along the dance floor. A long, slow sixties love song whispered low and throaty from the record player. Most of the teenagers were paired up and dancing with a determined concentration that Robert applauded. He even saw one or two of the boys try a dip with their partners. Now that was courage.
“They remind me of an old Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers movie—all those colors swirling around.”
The old prom dresses were lavender, slate gray, buttercup yellow, forest green, primrose pink—and they all seemed to have full skirts that trailed on the plank flooring of the barn. Their skirts reminded Jenny of a bed of pansies.
“We could be swirling, too—” Robert held out one hand for the coffeepot and the other for Jenny’s hand.
The light in the old barn had been softened when the music started. Someone had turned off a few of the side lights and shadows crowded the tall corners of the structure. The air was cool and, by the sounds of it, a winter wind was blowing outside.
When Jenny had looked outside earlier, she’d thought that the snow falling in the black night looked like a snow globe turned upside down—with the barn at the center and an old-fashioned waltz playing while the snow fell around the globe.
“I can’t dance in this.” Jenny brought her mind back to reality. She gestured to her chef’s apron. Her broad white apron was serviceable for working with food, but it had nothing of taffeta or silk about it. Even Ginger didn’t dance in coarse cotton. “And there’s my hair—”
“Your hair is beautiful. You just need to get rid of this.” Robert reached over and lifted Jenny’s hairnet off her head.
Jenny’s hands flew up. “But that’s my hairnet—the health code.”
“No one needs a hairnet for dancing.”
No, Jenny thought, but they did need air in their lungs. She felt dizzy. She could almost hear her sister’s squeal of delight if she knew Robert Buckwalter had plucked the net off her hair and asked her to dance.
But Jenny had always been more practical than her sister.
Jenny knew that Prince Charming didn’t even notice Cinderella until after the Fairy Godmother had given her a whole new look. Men, especially handsome men like the one in front of her, just didn’t dance with women with working shoes and flat hair. Not even the coachmen would have danced with Cinderella if she’d arrived at the ball with a net over her hair and an apron around her waist.
“I should change.”
Jenny’s hand had already found its way into his and now she was twisting away from him to go do something as foolish as change her clothes.
“You’re fine.” Fine didn’t begin to cover it, Robert thought to himself. Jenny’s eyes, usually a dark brown, had lightened to a caramel. She had a dazed look about her that made him want to dance with her in a quiet corner instead of in the middle of a throng of teenagers.
It wasn’t that she was beautiful, he decided after a moment. He’d seen dozens of women whose features were more perfect. But he’d never seen anyone who looked like Jenny. He could almost trace her thoughts in her eyes. She wasn’t trying to hide who she was or what she thought. He wondered if she even knew how rare that was. Or how compelling.
“But my hair…” Jenny frantically tried to fluff her hair up a little. It was all about bone structure. With flat hair, the small features on her face made her look like a Christmas elf. With just a little bit of fluff, she managed to look merely petite instead of childish.
Robert captured her hand and calmed her.
“Your hair is—” He’d been going to say “fine.” But then he felt the cloud of her hair fall against the back of his hand. “—incredible.”
“It’s brown.” Jenny shook her hair away from his hand. No wonder he was in the running for the number one bachelor. He was a charmer, all right. “Plain brown and flyaway on top of that.”
Robert shook his head. “I’d say more chestnut than anything, golden highlights. The kind of hair the masters used to paint in all those old European pictures. Mona Lisa colors.”
“Next you’ll be saying my apron is the latest fashion from Paris.”
Robert could see the amusement begin in her eyes and he could feel her relaxing.
“Just see if it doesn’t catch on.” Robert guided her closer so they could waltz. He felt her momentary resistance before she moved toward him.
“I used to love to dance.” Maybe the shadows will hide my apron, Jenny thought to herself as Robert started them on their way.
“Ever dip?”
Jenny shook her head. “And don’t you dare. I’d feel foolish with everyone looking.”
“Everybody’s too busy to care.”
Jenny looked around at the other couples. It was true. Almost. “The ranch hands are watching.”
Robert looked at the cluster of men standing by one of the side heaters. Half of them held coffee cups in their hands. A few of them did seem to be looking at him and Jenny, although he’d wager they weren’t interested in her apron. The dismay he saw in the eyes of a couple of them told him they’d been waiting for the coffee passing to stop so they’d have their own chance at a dance with Jenny.
“They’ll just have to get their own dates,” Robert stated firmly as he gathered Jenny a little closer and inhaled. She smelled of some very pleasing scent. He’d guess cinnamon.
