AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“My brother can dance?” I asked Melvin, craning my neck to keep an eye on Wilson.
Wilson was two-stepping like he’d been born and raised in Texas. The look of love and devotion on Cameron’s face said it all. They were so fucking happy. A stab of totally irrational jealousy jabbed me in the stomach.
“He secretly took lessons, didn’t tell Cami until tonight. Isn’t that romantic?” Melvin maneuvered us around the floor to keep Wilson and Cameron close by.
“Yes.” I had to force the word out of my too-tight throat.
“No frowning, honey, they are a good pair. Trust me.” Melvin squeezed me tight. The hug reminded me of my dad. I didn’t know homesickness for your parents was a thing at my age, but apparently it was.
The knot in my chest eased as Melvin’s enormous arms relaxed and we continued our dance.
After another spin, I picked up our abandoned conversation. “I like Cameron for him, too. We only met today, but she seems great. It’s not them…it’s me.”
“Rough patch?”
“The roughest.” I gave him a crooked, sappy smile.
“I know how to cure it.”
The song wound down, and he took my hand to pull me across the dance floor. He had a purpose, so I let him lead, like during the dance.
We reached a round table with about ten guys seated around it.
“This here is Rae Phillips, your boss’s sister. It’s her first time in Texas. Boys, she needs to learn to dance.” Melvin pulled me forward and draped an arm over my shoulders.
Smiles and whoops of welcome rang out from the men around the table. A smorgasbord of cowboys sat before me. Each one a different version of Atley: older, younger, taller, thinner, white, black, Hispanic, you name it. Decked out in hats, boots, and jeans that showcased all their best assets. It was a pantheon of hot cowboys to choose from—a veritable catalog of women’s fantasies.
“Nice to meet you, Rae. I’m Jameson. And I love to dance.” A lean, cocky-looking cowboy in his thirties stood and tipped his hat. He held out his hand. The rest of the table egged him and me on.
I nibbled my lip and looked at Melvin.
“Go for it, honey, save these boys from a night at the sausage fest.” He nudged me forward.
An unladylike bark of laughter escaped from me, and I took Jameson’s hand. Why the hell not? Dancing with these guys wouldn’t be anywhere near as scandalous as what I’d already done with Atley. My free hand fluttered over the well-concealed mark on my neck at the thought of last night’s activities. And the cold shoulder Atley had given me this evening.
Not tonight. Atley’s and my relationship, or lack thereof, was a problem for another time. I had two-stepping to do and a selection of hot cowboys to do it with.
The rest of Dwight Yoakum’s performance was something from a hallucination. I danced to every song, passed from one hunky man to the next. Their names and faces were a blur under the strobe lights and the twang of guitars.
It was fun—artlessly so.
A normally happy person, I smiled all the damn time. Often it felt like a chore, but these men made it as easy as breathing. They laughed and bantered, fought good-naturedly about who could get me a beer or spin me around the floor next.
They treated me like a princess.
After Dwight Yoakum’s last encore, I begged off from the guys. My feet were tired, and I was starving. They only let me leave their table once I explained I was living in the guest house now and they could take me dancing anytime. All they had to do was invite me. Leroy proposed a toast to the best Yankee woman in Elmer. Beer bottles clinked, and a blush colored my cheeks as I took off in search of food.
“Are you the end of the line?” I asked a tall, angular woman in tight jeans, hiking boots, and a ponytail.
She vibrated energy and had to pull an earbud out to hear me repeat my question.
“For food, yes.” She put the earbud back in. “Mitch, I’ve got to go. You make it work; I’ll call in the morning,” she told someone and popped the earbuds into a case from her pocket.
“Kate Chandler.” She held out her hand.
“Rae Phillips.”
“Wilson’s sister, right?”
