Date with a Cowboy: Iron Cowboy / In the Arms of the Rancher / At the Texan's Pleasure. Diana Palmer
up his scratched hand. “Sleep well.”
“You, too.”
But she didn’t sleep well. She had violent dreams, just as she had as a child. There was something about this house, this atmosphere, that reminded her of all she’d lost. Guns shooting. Men yelling. Fires burning. The plane almost crashing. And then her mother’s fury at Grandad, her accusations, her sudden bizarre behavior. The anger and rage in her mother never abated. Sara was left with nobody except Grandad to look after her. Her mother had destroyed herself, in the end. It had started out as a grand adventure with a noble purpose. It ended in bloodshed and death.
Sara pulled Morris closer to her in the big bed, wiping angrily at the tears. She hated going to sleep. She wondered if there would ever be a night when she’d sleep until morning and there would be no more bad dreams.
She touched her head where the faint indentation marked the most tragic part of her young life. It was under her thick blond hair, and it didn’t show. But Sara felt it there. It was a constant reminder of how brief life was, and how dangerous. She thought about it when she looked at Tony Danzetta, but she couldn’t understand why.
Finally, just before dawn she drifted off again. When she woke, late in the morning, it was to the realization that she was still wearing her jeans and the blouse. She’d been too preoccupied even to change into a nightgown.
She stayed with Jared for two more days. He seemed to be avoiding her. He didn’t have breakfast, lunch or dinner at the table. He was always in his study or out with the cowboys on the ranch. Tony assured her that it was his normal routine, but something in the way Tony said it made her uneasy.
The fourth day after her surgery, she packed up Morris and her suitcase and asked Jared to let Tony take her home. She wasn’t completely over the surgery, but she was getting around very well. There was some residual soreness, but she was already feeling better.
Jared didn’t hesitate when she asked to go. It wounded her that he could let her walk away without a qualm. But, then, he was a financially secure man, from all appearances, and she was a poor woman. They’d agreed only to be each other’s support in times of need, not to make the care permanent.
Sara and Morris settled back into their routine, and she went back to work.
“At least you look a little better,” Dee commented, noting the dark circles under Sara’s eyes. “I’ll bet you didn’t sleep a lot at Mr. Cameron’s place.”
“It was sort of awkward,” she admitted. “But I saw a lot more of Tony than I did of Mr. Cameron,” she added.
“Tony?”
“The big guy.”
“Oh,” Dee recalled. “The hit man.”
Sara chuckled. “He improves on closer acquaintance,” she told her boss. “And Morris let Tony pick him up. He bit Mr. Cameron. Several times.” It felt good, remembering that.
“I suppose Morris is a pretty good judge of character, then,” Dee said with a grin.
“Now, now,” Sara chided. “Mr. Cameron took good care of me while I was getting back on my feet.”
Dee grimaced. “I could have taken you home with me,” she began guiltily.
“Dee, you have four kids and your mother lives with you and your husband,” Sara replied gently. “You couldn’t possibly take care of one more person. But thank you for offering. I’m just grateful that I still have a job.”
“As if I’d fire you for being sick,” the older woman scoffed. “Now don’t you do any heavy lifting. I’ll do that. You just sit there at the counter and ring up purchases.”
“I can do that, at least,” Sara replied cheerfully.
It was just before closing time when Harley Fowler turned up. Dee had gone to the bank with the day’s receipts while Sara waited for her to come back and lock up.
“Hi, Harley,” Sara greeted.
He smiled. “You look lots better,” he said. He grimaced. “I know I got you in trouble with Cameron by just walking in to see you. I’m really sorry.”
She was stunned. “How did you find out about that?”
“Mrs. Lewis is kin to one of our cowboys. She heard Tony talking about it. I never thought Mr. Cameron would mind. I guess I should have asked first.”
“He’s an outsider, Harley,” she said gently. “He doesn’t know how people behave in small towns. Nobody else would have had a problem.”
“I sort of wondered …” he began, and then stopped.
“Wondered?” she prompted.
“If Mr. Cameron might be jealous,” he said.
She laughed. “Oh, that would be the day,” she chuckled. “A big time rancher jealous of a piddly little clerk in a bookstore. He’s got this gorgeous attorney, named Max,” she added, trying to sound lighthearted. “She’s educated and beautiful and crazy about him.”
Harley sighed. “It must be nice to have a little money. I wouldn’t know.” He leaned on the counter with his forearms. “The Parks are having a barbecue at the ranch Saturday. Lisa said you might want to sketch the pups one more time before they’re old enough to adopt. She says they’re growing like weeds.”
“A barbecue?” she echoed, smiling. “I love barbecue.”
“I know,” he returned, grinning. “Suppose I come and pick you up about eleven Saturday morning? I know you’re still sore and all. I can drive you home whenever you need to go.”
“I’d love to go, Harley,” she said with genuine affection.
He smiled. She wasn’t beautiful, but he liked being with her. “That’s a date, then.”
“Will there be dancing?” she asked.
“Oh, yes. They hired a Mariachi band to play. I understand there’s going to be a major competition between the Caldwells and Cash Grier and his wife. A tango.”
“Wow,” Sara breathed. “Matt and Leslie were our champions hands down until Cash Grier got out on the dance floor with Christabel Gaines—I mean, Christabel Dunn, but that was before she married Judd. Can Tippy Grier do a tango?”
“Apparently. It’s going to be a night to remember.” He hesitated. “Your adopted family’s invited, too.”
“Mr. Cameron?” she asked warily.
“Yes, and the hit man, too.”
“Tony is not a hit man,” she said, laughing when she realized that it was her own description of him that was making the rounds in town. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“He does sort of remind me of a hit man,” he replied dryly. “He’s big and slow-looking, though. He can’t be that good a bodyguard.”
Sara had doubts about how slow-moving Tony was. She had the distinct impression that he was quick as lightning and sly like a fox, hiding his light under a barrel. But she didn’t say so.
“Saturday at eleven,” he repeated.
“Yes.” She grinned at him as he waved and went out the door.
Sara pictured the band and Jared Cameron. She wondered if he’d ask her to dance. She wondered if he could dance. It was thrilling to consider.
Harley came for her exactly at eleven. She was wearing a full skirt with a simple white cotton peasant blouse and silver jewelry. She looked like a pixie.
He was in jeans and a clean plaid cotton shirt, Western cut, with polished black boots and a cowboy hat to match.
“You look nice, Sara,” he told her. “Are you feeling okay?”
She