he didn’t know who she meant.
“Her name is Kenzie, and no, she was never my date for the gala.” He still held the door for her.
How very interesting. Did that mean he was currently unattached? Not that he ever seemed to date anyone for long. She’d seen a lot of women come and go in Xander’s life in the months that she’d had a crush on him.
“Don’t you think it will be awkward for you to take me? Since I’m—you know—a ranch hand?” A trace of misgiving crept through her.
“Not at all.” He offered her his hand to help her up, clearly impatient to be under way. “There’s enough drama brewing in the Texas Cattleman’s Club without anyone worrying about who I bring to the party.”
Ignoring his hand to pull herself up into the truck cab—mostly because she was extremely aware of the effect his touch had on her—Frankie mulled over his words. She hoped he was right. And yet another tiny piece of her wished that it wasn’t easy for him to brush aside their evening together so casually.
What would it be like to attend the party with him? she wondered. Would it be like a real date? Or would she simply be circulating through the party on her own once he got her through the door?
It was one thing to be brave about riding a bucking bronc. At least then, you knew what you were getting. Facing Xander’s peers at a fancy party had the potential to be more humiliating than landing on her butt in the dirt. What did she really know about him other than his reputation for never staying with any woman for long?
Stealing a sideways glance at him as he got behind the wheel of the truck, Frankie promised herself to keep a rein on her attraction to him tomorrow night. To simply enjoy the event she’d been wanting to attend so badly.
Because letting herself think for a moment that Xander Currin noticed her as anything more than a troublesome employee would only lead to heartache and disappointment. Now that she knew he was prone to chauvinism and arrogance, it ought to be easy to quit crushing on him.
Except the truck hadn’t even pulled out onto the main road before she was already imagining what it might feel like to be in his arms for a dance.
* * *
Crisis averted.
Xander tried to tell himself he’d done the right thing as he steered his pickup onto the highway back to Currin Ranch. He’d ensured Frankie wasn’t competing in a dangerous event, and now he was delivering her safely to her cabin on his family land.
But while the country love song crooning on the radio filled the truck cab, he couldn’t deny that in dodging one disaster, he may have set himself up for another. Because no matter that he’d told her it wasn’t a big deal to take her to the Texas Cattleman’s Club Flood Relief Gala tomorrow night, he knew plenty of people would talk. Not that he gave a rat’s ass about his own reputation, but he didn’t like the idea of anyone giving Frankie a hard time. Rumors spread fast in the tight-knit ranching community.
He wasn’t sure how to address that, so he tried to focus on the positive of what he’d accomplished. He kept his eyes on the road, knowing it was better to concentrate on that and the drive home than let himself think about the undeniably appealing cowgirl in the passenger seat.
“Do you mind if I change the station?” Her voice slid through his thoughts, her hand hovering over the radio dial.
His gaze flickered briefly from her fingers to her profile silhouetted by a streetlamp.
“Suit yourself.” Damn, but she was pretty. Even after he’d returned his attention to the view in front of the headlights, he could still see her dark braid resting on her shoulder and tied with a blue ribbon.
She wore a bright blue Stetson he’d never seen before, and a brown suede vest over her turquoise-and-yellow-plaid Western shirt. The feminine touches didn’t quite soften the proud tilt of her chin or the stubborn set to her jaw, but the contradictory side of her claimed his interest just the same. A ranch hand willing to risk her neck in the arena for the sake of a gala ticket.
“Thanks.” Spinning the radio dial, she found a more fast-paced, rock-inspired country song and turned up the volume.
To avoid conversation? Fine by him. He didn’t want to think too long about what he was getting into by accompanying her tomorrow night. And he sure as hell didn’t want to contemplate the attraction he felt for her. She worked for him and that made her off-limits. End of story.
But she broke the silence between them just a moment later, turning down the volume again as he pulled off the interstate onto the dark county route that would lead back home.
“You mentioned there was a lot of drama in the Texas Cattleman’s Club.” She shifted in her seat to turn slightly toward him, her elbow resting on the console between them.
Close to his.
“Did I?” He’d never had any use for gossip, so he hadn’t paid much attention to the rumors. But his father had been so involved with opening a branch of the TCC in Houston, it was impossible not to overhear things.
“You said no one would think twice about you bringing a ranch hand for a date tomorrow night because there was a lot of other drama brewing.” Her voice had a soft huskiness that made him think of morning-after pillow talk and shared confidences. “What’s that about? Anything I need to be aware of?”
He glanced her way again, her green eyes fixed on him with a warmth he couldn’t ignore.
Better to talk about the TCC than dwell on the spark of awareness growing between them. Besides, he had to admire her quick mind and her willingness to prepare for the social outing.
“I’m sure you’ve read about the badly decomposed body found at the construction site where the Houston branch is being renovated.” He straightened in his seat, putting some more distance between him and the intriguing woman beside him. “Having a murder victim linked to the TCC has everyone...anxious.”
His father hadn’t said much about it, but Xander guessed his dad must have some suspicions. Ryder Currin knew everyone involved in getting the Texas Cattleman’s Club Houston branch off the ground.
“I read all the articles about that,” Frankie mused, her finger tracing the leather stitching along the side of the console. “It seems like they’re not speculating much while they try to identify the body.”
“No one is speculating in an official capacity, but believe me, there’s plenty of talk. Some people think the victim could be Vincent Hamm, an assistant on the executive floor at Perry Holdings, who vanished into thin air right before the flood.”
“Has anyone tried to locate him?” She went still, a note of alarm in her voice.
“Apparently his family told police he’s always been a loner. He hated his job and often spoke of disappearing to a Caribbean island to be a surfer.” He hadn’t meant to worry her. “Maybe he finally did just that.”
She fell quiet again, peering out her window as he passed a slow-moving farm vehicle.
“I did something like that once,” she said after a long moment.
She surprised the hell out of him with the turn in conversation. He needed to stay on
