and I haven’t seen him since. In the end it was just Mom and me.”
She didn’t tell him to elicit his sympathy. She didn’t want people to feel sorry for her. She gave her shoulders a shrug, loosening them up. “Anyway, I guess I put away childish things when that happened.”
Yeah. Including disposable income. She’d gone from being a supportive daughter to assuming the mortgage for the house so the bank wouldn’t foreclose when her father quit making the payments. Not to mention the medical bills and keeping the lights on. The few evenings she spent at the Dollar was about as exciting as her life got.
“I’m really sorry,” he repeated. “How long have you been working at Crooked Valley?”
She smiled then, a genuine one, because she really did love her job. “Your grandfather hired me as a part-time hand when I was seventeen. I liked it so much I stayed on.”
“And now you’re my foreman. At thirty.”
She shrugged, not particularly caring for the reminder of her age. Kailey was twenty-eight and her mother was constantly asking when she was going to find a good man and settle down, that she wasn’t getting any younger. It was as though a woman hit thirty and it was all on the downhill slide.
She peered into his face. “What about you, Duke? What keeps you from smiling more?”
He didn’t answer, but he met her gaze and held it for a few long moments. “It’s a long story.”
She grinned. “It always is.”
“Then, let’s save it for another time.” He treated her to a rare smile, small, but definitely friendly. “This is getting a bit heavy. Maybe we should hit the dance floor instead.” He held out a hand.
Dance. With Duke. She blinked. The conversation had been serious, but the underlying attraction, at least on her part, was still there. Especially when he looked directly in her eyes like that.
“Um, okay.” Her throat felt dry, so she grabbed her glass and finished what was left in the bottom, mentally promising herself to get a glass of water after this dance. Then she put her hand in his and stood up, her heart beating a little bit faster as they weaved their way to the floor with the other two-steppers.
Quinn and Kailey shuffled by, their boots stirring up sawdust as Duke put his hand on her waist and his other clasped her palm. Before she had a chance to take a deep breath, he started them moving around the floor with the other dancers. Carrie made herself relax and settle into the steps; she didn’t want to trip over her own boots and look like an ass. Duke was a good dancer, smooth and even and confident, and with a change in pressure of his hand she knew to slide under and execute a smooth turn. When she was facing him again, he was smiling and the brilliant force of it nearly sucked the air from her lungs.
She was tipsy and dancing with her boss and thinking prurient thoughts about him. This was probably not the smartest thing to be doing on a Friday night.
They’d been late to the floor and the song ended not long after they’d begun dancing. They waited for the next, and Carrie was expecting something fast and fun. Instead the latest hot ballad boomed over the speakers and there was an awkward moment where they wondered whether to end the dance and go back to the table or carry through the next song.
“Care to?” His voice rumbled close to her ear again and she shivered.
“I guess,” she answered, giving a little nod.
The dance hold was different this time, more intimate. His wide palm rode along the small of her back and his fingers curled around hers as he held her close. His belt buckle grazed the button of her jeans as they moved their feet, and her breasts pressed lightly against his shirtfront. Duke’s shoulder was warm and hard beneath her fingertips—maybe he hadn’t been ranching, but there was no denying that what was beneath the material was rock-solid.
The song went on and they moved along the floor like every other couple, but Carrie felt different. The air between them was taut with possibility; each place where their bodies touched was hypersensitive. Duke pulled her closer and his fingers kneaded against the small of her back, barely an inch above her tailbone. It would only take the slightest movement for her to have her head curled against his shoulder, to taste the skin of his neck. Instead she closed her eyes and took in the scent of him—warm skin and whatever aftershave he wore and something that was distinctly Duke without her being able to label it.
“What are we doing?” she whispered, but he didn’t answer her. Instead his lips touched her temple, not quite a kiss but a deliberate contact—a caress—just the same.
Want spiraled through her. She wanted Duke Duggan. Wanted him to kiss her. Wanted to know what it felt like to have his hands on her. Wanted the rest of the people in the bar to disappear so they could have some privacy. This was crazy. She couldn’t ever remember having this sort of instant reaction to a man. Maybe Kailey was right. Maybe it had been too long a dry spell.
The song went on and her body vibrated with anticipation and need. It was pointless, since in about one minute the song would end, they would part ways and she’d go back to the table and attempt to cool off. With water. Not with more rum. Maybe that was part of the problem....
The final chorus was waning when Duke leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “A few minutes after the song ends, I’m going to make my excuses and leave. I’ll wait in my truck for ten minutes. If you want a drive home, I’ll take you.”
She snapped her head back and looked into his eyes. The fire that burned there made her weak in the knees. Was he saying what she thought he was saying? Could it be possible that he was feeling the same connection she was—and asking her to do something about it? “Are you sure? This is complicated....”
His gaze dropped to her lips and then back up to her eyes. “It doesn’t have to be. Just two people cutting loose on a Friday night. Unless I misread the signals...”
She swallowed and shook her head quickly. “No...you didn’t. But...”
“I’m not in the market for a girlfriend,” he assured her, his hand squeezing at her hip. “Knowing that, if you want a drive home, meet me in the parking lot.”
The song ended. Duke stepped back and raised a finger to his hat. “Thanks for the dance, Carrie.”
She had to be out of her mind to even consider taking him up on his offer. Duke walked away, heading straight to the bar where he clapped Quinn on the back and ordered up another drink, looking entirely calm while her whole body was on high alert.
Carrie weaved her way back to the table where Kailey was waiting, virtually bouncing in her chair.
“Oh, my God. You and Duke were smokin’ out there! What the heck?”
“We just danced,” Carrie insisted, though she was still so keyed up she felt as if she might bust out of her skin.
“Just danced my eye. It was like electricity between you. Wow.”
“Shut up, Kailey.” Carrie didn’t know what to do. She was tempted, oh, so tempted by Duke’s unexpected offer. She was a thirty-year-old woman and her sex life was nonexistent. Here was a man, a gorgeous man, propositioning her for...for what? A night of mind-blowing sex? He’d made it clear he didn’t want a relationship. She wished she could be more blasé. She knew these things
