Summer Nights. Сьюзен Мэллери
The archaeologists were intrigued, though. I think the dance of the happy virgin is giving you street cred with them.”
“Yes, because they’re so wild.”
Last fall, construction workers on a building site had blown away a bit of the mountain, exposing Máa-zib gold. Archaeologists had stormed in to take charge of the discovery. After the pieces were researched and catalogued, they would be returned to the town.
“Are you helping them?” Charlie asked.
“I’m more unofficial liaison,” Annabelle told her. “My minor in Máa-zib studies gives me enough information to be annoying to the professionals.”
“Most professionals need a little annoying.”
Annabelle appreciated the loyalty. “Then my work here is done.”
The door opened and Heidi walked in. She saw them and waved.
Heidi hurried over. “Shane said yes. He’s going to teach you to do the horse dance. Well, ride a horse. I don’t think his mom mentioned the dancing.”
“Probably better to sneak up on him with that one,” Charlie said.
“You’re right.” Heidi grinned. “He’s a successful horse guy. He’s not going to be into the dancing thing. You’ll need to introduce the idea gradually.”
This was what she loved, Annabelle thought happily. Her friends and, for the most part, her life. She had a great job in a town she adored. She belonged. If she got a twinge of envy when the light caught Heidi’s gleaming diamond engagement ring, well, that was okay, too.
In truth, she didn’t care about the rock—it was what the rock represented that gave her a couple of pangs. Love. Real love. Rafe wasn’t trying to change Heidi. He didn’t accept only parts of her. He was all-in. Annabelle had never had that. Her revelation from last night had stayed with her. She wanted more than conditional love. She wanted it all—or nothing. Messy, inconvenient love, where both parties gave with their whole hearts.
Not that she had a bunch of guys lining up, begging her to take a chance.
She pulled a folder out of her large tote. “I have the information I promised.” She withdrew the pictures she’d taken at the two florists in town, along with pricing sheets.
Heidi sighed. “You’re amazing and wonderful and I really appreciate the help.”
Charlie bristled. “Hey, I tasted cake. I wouldn’t do that for just anyone.”
Heidi looked at her. “Are you sure?”
“Okay, I would taste cake for just about anyone but I did it for you because you’re my friend.”
“You two are the best,” Heidi said, her eyes getting bright. “Seriously. I don’t know how to thank you.”
Charlie held up a hand. “I swear, if you start crying, I’m outta here. You’re emotional. Are you sure you’re not pregnant?”
“Yes. I’m sure. It’s just everyone is being so wonderful about the wedding.”
Heidi had been engaged all of two weeks, which wouldn’t be notable except the wedding had been scheduled for the middle of August, giving everyone barely two months to get it all arranged. Heidi’s only family was her grandfather, so Annabelle and Charlie had stepped in to help with the details.
They looked over the flowers. Heidi studied arrangements and prices. They paused when Jo stopped by their table to find out what they wanted for lunch.
“By the way,” Jo said, handing them each a small card with a price list, “the party room is going to be opening in about a month. You were asking about it for the bridal shower.”
Heidi leaned forward. “You’re making it like you said?”
Jo grinned. “Yup, just as girly as the rest of the bar, with very flattering lighting. Lots of tables, a private bar, big-screen TV and a small stage. I’m working on the menu right now. We can do appetizers and finger sandwiches or regular meals. Whichever you want.”
“Champagne?” Heidi asked.
“Lots.”
“I love it,” Annabelle said. “Want to have your shower here?”
“The room can hold up to sixty,” Jo told them.
“You wouldn’t have to limit your guest list,” Charlie told her.
“Sounds like a plan,” Heidi said happily.
Annabelle nodded. “We’ll get back to you on dates.”
“Great.” Jo took their lunch orders. Salads for Annabelle and Heidi and a cheeseburger for Charlie.
“Fries for the table,” the firefighter added, then glared at her friends. “I know you two. You’ll steal mine otherwise.”
“I would never do that,” Annabelle lied cheerfully.
* * *
“HI. I’M ANNABELLE WEISS.”
Shane looked up from the saddle he’d been cleaning and immediately came to his feet. Instead of a mousy, stern-faced woman wearing glasses, with an oversize cardigan and stockings bagging around her ankles, he stared into the slightly amused green eyes of the petite, redheaded bar dancer.
She had on one of those tight, strappy dresses women liked to wear and men liked to look at. Which was usually the woman’s plan all along. It was white, with flowers scattered all over. Skinny strips of fabric had been braided together to hold the whole thing up. The dress was fitted, following her impressive curves to just above her knee.
Technically she was covered, with not a hint of anything risqué showing. But the outline of her body was enough to bring the strongest of men to his knees. Shane would know—he was a breath or two away from going down in a heap.
His first instinct was for self-preservation. Moving forward wasn’t an option—that would put him too close to her. So he took a step back and nearly tripped over the stool he’d been sitting on. The stool started to go over. He grabbed for it, as did the woman. His fingers somehow got tangled in hers and damn it all to hell, there it was. The to-the-groin jolt of awareness, of hunger.
“You’re Shane, right?”
He inched away from her and managed a quick nod as he twisted the rag he held in his fingers.
“Heidi said you were willing to teach me how to ride.” Her expression shifted from entertained to confused, as if she was wondering why no one had mentioned he was a can or two shy of a six-pack.
“A horse,” he clarified, then wanted to kick himself. What else but a horse? Did he think she was here to learn to ride his mother’s elephant?
One corner of Annabelle’s perfect, full mouth twitched. “A horse would be good. You seem to have several.”
He wanted to remind himself that he was usually fine around women. Smooth even. He was intelligent, funny and could, on occasion, be charming. Just not now, with his blood pumping and his brain doing nothing more than shouting “It’s her, it’s her” over and over again.
Chemistry, he thought grimly. It could turn the smartest man into a drooling idiot. Here he was, proving the theory true.
Aware he was still holding a rag in one hand and leather cleaner in the other, he set both on the battered counter.
“You’re interested in pleasure riding?” he asked, careful to keep his voice even.
Annabelle sighed. The action caused her chest to rise and fall. It took every ounce of willpower he possessed to rip his gaze away.
“Actually, it’s kind of complicated,” she admitted.
Complicated? He didn’t think so. She was a beautiful woman. He was a man who had to have her