Читать книгу Third Time Lucky - Allison Leigh - Страница 6

Chapter Two

If she hid out here in the back room, Charlene wouldn’t have to see him.

She would just let her petite, stylish salesgirl attend to Dane.

But alarm followed on the heels of her cowardice, and she edged closer to the doorway leading to the front of the shop. What disaster had prompted him to step foot in Charlene’s?

Dane Dalton was six-foot, two-inches of male who thought mucking out horse stalls and castrating calves was just this side of heaven. Even before she’d broken things off with him, he’d rarely come to the shop. He’d told her more than once that he felt like a bull in a china shop being around all the feminine frippery.

And then there was no more time for her to worry because the man himself stepped into the doorway, catching her hovering there.

Familiar coffee-brown eyes stared down at her, narrowing. “Hiding, Leenie?”

The nickname jolted her. Only Dane had ever called her that. She cleared her throat and waved at the elaborate wedding gown consuming a good portion of the space in her small work room. “Working, actually,” she managed. “What, uh, what brings you here?” She was vaguely aware of Meredith chattering to someone in the front of the shop.

But mostly she was aware that an absence of six months hadn’t made Dane think more fondly of her. Not if the chilliness on his numbingly handsome face was any indication.

To be fair, she had turned down his marriage proposal. The one six months ago. And also the one twelve years ago. The first time, she’d been a girl. Of course she’d turned him down. But now she was a grown woman. And she’d given him the only answer a sensible person could when two people were so wildly different.

“Mom’s helping me find a Christmas present for Becca.”

So it was his mother with whom Meredith was talking. Alarm drained away, replaced by disappointment that he’d come in only to shop.

Just because she’d been sensible didn’t mean it had been easy to walk away from him. She missed him. Desperately.

She brushed her hands down her thighs, only to poke herself through her velvet slacks with the needle she was still holding. She focused on tucking it safely into the pin cushion rather than looking at him. “I’m sure there’s something here your sister would like.” Along with the rest of Dane’s family, Becca worked on their ranch. But unlike her big brother, she didn’t roll her eyes at a little frippery now and then.

“That’s what Mom says.”

Charlene would have been glad to step past him. To go into the considerably more spacious retail area. But Dane’s dusty cowboy boots were firmly planted, and he didn’t seem in any hurry to budge at all.

As if he was perfectly aware of her discomfort.

And that he was enjoying it.

“Mom also told me that Caroline says you’re not planning to be at their Christmas party. You’ve been coming every year with your folks since we were kids.”

For as long as Charlene could remember, Nanette and Dale Dalton had hosted a huge Christmas party for their family and friends. Since Charlene’s mother, Caroline, and Nanette were the best of friends, the only years Charlene had been able to pass on the event were when she’d been living in California. “Not every year,” she reminded.

He just gave her a long look.

She broke his gaze and stared blindly at the bolts of fabrics propped against the walls. Her heart felt like it was pushing out of her chest. “I didn’t think you’d want me there,” she finally admitted.

There was no way Dane would be absent. He now ran the ranch where he’d been born and raised. His folks lived there, too, though at some point during the years Charlene had been in California, he’d moved from the main house into the foreman’s house. Which was where he fully expected the woman he chose for a wife to live with him.

Forty minutes away from town—and her boutique.

She could have adjusted to the distance if he hadn’t thought her business was useless to begin with. He’d always said he couldn’t understand all the hoopla women made over a dress. But then, he was satisfied to pick up his flannel shirts from a hardware store.

“It’s their party,” he repeated. “Just because you can’t abide the idea of marrying me doesn’t mean you need to wipe them off the planet, too.”

She winced. “I never said I couldn’t abide—”

“I know what you said.” His voice was flat. “You said no. I told Mom I’d talk to you about the party and I have. If you want to disappoint a woman who’s treated you like one of her own daughters your entire life, that’s on you.” Then he turned on his boot heel and walked away.