Calder Pride (Calder Saga 5)

“Yes. Yes, I am.” Hot tears suddenly burned in her eyes. “And I want off this damned tin roof!” Fighting the tears, Cat swung away and immediately lost her balance, staggering sideways. His hands caught her, steadied her. She shook them off. “Leave me alone. You didn’t want to touch me before, so don’t touch me now!”

“You’re wrong if you think I didn’t want to—”

Cat plunged onto the dance floor rather than listen to his explanation. She had heard them all before. She twisted her way around the dancing couples. On the other side, she found a path through the crowded tables and headed for the door, suddenly anxious to leave. In her haste, she bumped against a chair, caromed off it and stumbled straight into a plaid-shirted cowboy.

“Whoa, there, little darlin’.” He hooked an arm around her waist, catching her when she would have careened off.

“Sorry—” Self-conscious, she looked up.

“Oooowhee!” He turned wide-eyed with appreciation at the sight of her upturned face. “Look at the pretty package that just landed in my arms.” He grinned like a child on Christmas morning. “Little darlin’, I do believe that band is playing our song. What d’ya say we rub bellies?”

“I—”

“She’s with me.”

When Cat glanced over her shoulder, she found herself looking into familiar gray eyes, discovering a hard glitter of impatience in them. “I am not,” she denied hotly.

But the cowboy had already withdrawn his arm, turning Cat loose. “I saw the two of you dancing—if you can call it that,” he said. “Had a fight, did you?”

“Something like that.”

“We did not.” But neither man listened to Cat.

“I envy you the kissin’ and makin’ up,” the cowboy said. “It’ll be hot springs tonight—and I ain’t talking about Arkansas.”

“Now that is a laugh.” Sarcasm coated her words. Cat stayed long enough to see gray eyes narrow in temper, then swung on a heel and walked off, the cowboy’s laughter following her, masking the sound of a second set of long-striding footsteps.

Cat pushed out the door and stepped into the warm Texas night. The fresh air slammed into her. Everything started to spin, and she grabbed one of the wooden posts that supported the sidewalk’s shed roof. She held herself very still and waited for the ground to stop spinning. When it did, she saw a second pair of boots in her line of vision, and a pair of long legs. Her gaze traveled up them, but she already knew who they belonged to.

“Why don’t you go back to Dakota and leave me alone?” she demanded, her voice thick with a confusing churn of emotions. “I told you before—I don’t need a keeper. I can take care of myself.”

“I saw the way you were taking care of that cowboy.”

“I could have handled him”—perversely, Cat had to add—“assuming I wanted to.”

“I suppose you’d rather be back inside, ‘rubbing bellies’ with that rodeo Romeo,” he mocked.

“What do you care?” she taunted. “You sure as hell weren’t interested.”

His hand shot out and gripped the post directly above her fingers as he suddenly loomed closer, a ridging of anger in his face. “You just keep digging that spur in, don’t you?” he muttered. “For your information, I’ve made love to a woman in a lot of different places, but never in the middle of a public dance floor. I draw the line there, odd as that may sound to you.”

She felt the heat of embarrassment creep into her cheeks and quickly lowered her gaze, looking anywhere but directly at him. He dropped his hand from the post and took a step back, dragging in a deep steadying breath.

“Now,” he continued, “I don’t know who you’re trying to get even with or why—though I can guess. But I suggest you find yourself a telephone, give your boyfriend a call, and patch things up if you can.”

“I can’t,” she flashed, unable to check the tears that filled her eyes.

“Why? Or are you too proud to make the first move?” he challenged.

Cat looked at him for a long, tension-filled second, fighting the words and the pain of them. “No,” she said at last. “He’s dead.”

Stunned by her answer, he drew back. “I’m sorry. I—”

“I don’t want your pity.” She couldn’t take it, not from him. “I don’t need anyone’s pity.”

“Of course you don’t.”

“What would you know about it?” Hurting, Cat lashed out. “What would you know about anything?” Her throat tightened, turning her voice hoarsely thick. “Dear God, why am I even talking to you?”