Читать книгу The Texas Ranger - Jan Hudson, Jan Hudson - Страница 13

On Friday morning, Skye was just finishing up a surgery when Napoleon said, “You have a phone call on line two. That Ranger man. You want to call him back?”

“No, I’ll take it. I’m done here. Would you put Buster back in his cage?”

Napoleon nodded and gently lifted the cat while she stripped off her gloves and picked up the phone.

“Hi, Sam. This is Skye.”

“Hope I didn’t get you at a bad time.”

“No. I have a minute, but I have to tell you that I haven’t made a decision yet.”

“I’m not pressuring you,” Sam said. “And the call isn’t business. It’s personal. Belle was telling me that she and Gabe often go dancing at a place called Fancy’s on Friday nights. I was wondering if you might like to go tonight. With me. And with Gabe and Belle.”

“Oh, Sam, I don’t know. It might be fun, but I haven’t been dancing since—Well, I haven’t been in a long time. I doubt if I remember how to two-step. I don’t go out much.”

“Well, darlin’, it’s time you started. And I’m a two-steppin’ terror. It’ll all come back to you. I’ll be there about seven. Maybe we can grab a bite somewhere. Listen, I gotta run. See you tonight.”

He hung up before she could protest further. She couldn’t go out dancing. There would be a mob of people there. Just the thought of going out into such a setting was enough to make her break out in hives. It had taken her months to be comfortable going to church surrounded by her whole family and sitting in the balcony with Gus and two bodyguards. She could handle lunch with Gabe and Gus at a small, familiar café, and she’d come a long way in going to yoga class with Belle and Gus, but dancing at Fancy’s? A zoo would be calm and quiet compared to that place on Friday night. No way. She’d have to call him back and cancel.

But she didn’t know where to call, and she got busy. The next thing she knew it was noon.

Everybody usually congregated at the house for lunch, even Napoleon, who could eat more than any three men, and there was always a big spread, plenty for drop-ins. Belle had picked up Flora from the Firefly, an art gallery that displayed her soul paintings, and joined them for the meal.

When Skye was about halfway through her salad, her mother said, “I’m definitely buying the Firefly. Mason and I are signing the papers this afternoon, and I’m taking over on Monday.”

“Fantastic!” Belle said.

“Mom,” Gabe said, “are you sure that’s not too much for you? Running an art gallery is demanding.”

“Oh, fiddle, there’s nothing demanding about it. Mostly I just sit there and paint until someone wanders in. I’m hiring Grace Winslet to work part time, including some weekends, and her daughter is going to help out, too. She’s a junior over at Texas State and needs a job. Misty, her name is. Very responsible girl.”

Skye said, “Mom, I think you should do what makes you happy.”

“This makes me very happy. I love being downtown in the thick of things, and I really enjoy people coming in just to watch me paint. It’s good company. I’m not cut out for painting in a lonely garret.”

“I’m excited for you,” Skye said. “It sounds like a wonderful new venture, Mom. And by the way, Belle,” she added, trying for a casual tone. “Sam called this morning. He asked me to go dancing tonight at Fancy’s.”

Everybody stopped eating. Except Napoleon.

Belle’s eyebrows went up. “Did he now? And what did you say?”

“He didn’t really give me time to say anything before he hung up. But I don’t see how I can go.”

“Sounds like a fine idea to me,” Suki said as she passed the potatoes to Napoleon.

“Oh, Skye,” Flora said, “I think it would be great fun for you. And a wonderful experience. Why, Belle and Gabe will be there. And Sam certainly can protect you with that gun he wears on his belt.”

“And I’ll take my gun if you want,” Belle said. “Not that there’s any need of it. I’m sure you know almost everybody there.”

“I don’t want you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable, Skye,” her brother said. “Don’t let anybody pressure you into something that you’re not ready for.”

Belle rolled her eyes. “We’re not talking about going into a war zone in a foreign country. It’s downtown Wimberley, for gosh sakes. What are you going to wear, Skye?”

“I hadn’t thought about it. Do you think the place will mind if I bring Gus?”

“I’m sure they won’t,” Flora said. “Gabe, why don’t you call to be sure? And for good measure, perhaps a couple of the guards could be there, too.”

Gabe hesitated for a moment. “Skye, if you’d like to try it, I’ll make the arrangements.”

Inside, her stomach felt as if she’d swallowed a handful of marbles, but she fought to contain her nervousness and managed a smile. “Maybe I could try it for an hour.”

Gabe nodded. “I’ll take care of things.”

WHEN SAM OPENED THE DOOR to his place, Pookie met him, dancing around his feet and yapping until he picked her up. “How’s it going, girl? You keep the burglars out?”

She wiggled and licked his face.

“Not on the mouth, Pookie. Not on the mouth.” He held her away, then put her down, but she wasn’t deterred. Excited, she circled his feet as he made his way to his bedroom, where he dumped a handful of junk mail into the trash.

The light was flashing on his answering machine. He hoped it wasn’t Skye canceling their date tonight.

It wasn’t Skye’s voice he heard on the playback. It was Gabe’s. And from all the arrangements he’d made, you’d think they were preparing for a presidential visit instead of going dancing at a local honky-tonk.

“And you’ve been invited,” Sam said to the dog. “Want to go play with Tiger tonight?”

Pookie barked. She seemed to be ready and willing.

Sam took a quick shower, put on his dancing duds and pinned his star on his shirt. He clipped his gun on his belt and scooped up the dog. “Let’s boogie.”

SKYE CHANGED CLOTHES four times. And her hair wouldn’t do anything right, even though the short cut had always suited her fine. She could step out of the shower, towel it dry, finger comb it and be ready to go. Wouldn’t you know that her mop had picked that evening to act up? It looked as if she’d stuck her finger in the proverbial light socket—except the left side, which was flattened to her head.

She’d finally settled on a pink patterned tee with a sprinkle of sequins that her mother had given her for her birthday last year and a comfortable pair of jeans and boots. But her hair! How could she go anywhere looking the way she did?

There was a tap on her door. “Skye?” her mother said. “Are you dressed? Sam’s here.”

She flung open the door. “I can’t go. My hair is a mess. Just look at it.”

“Calm down, dear. I think your hair looks cute, except for right here.” She patted the left side. “Do you have any gel?”

“Heavens, no.”

“I’ll be right back.” Her mother hustled out, stopping long enough to shout downstairs, “We’ll be down in a minute.”

Skye felt so foolish—like a teenager on her first date. The idea of going out into a mob of strangers was nerve-racking enough. Add the fluster of trying to dress for the evening, and her anxiety level was off the chart. Why had she ever agreed to such a thing?

That was easy. Sam Outlaw. The thought of him made her toes tingle.

She could do this. She could.

Her mother returned with a basket of stuff. “I thought you went after some gel.”

“I did,” Flora said. “Sit down here.”

Skye sat down at the desk in her sitting room, and her mother squirted and sprayed gunk on her hair and picked and poked at it.

“Finished?” Skye asked.

“Not quite. Wait a minute until that dries. It looks really cute.”

“Let me see.” Skye started to rise, but Flora put a hand on her shoulder.

“Be patient for a moment, dear. Close your eyes.”

She felt a brush across her lids. “What are you doing? That’s not eye shadow, is it? I don’t wear eye shadow.” She felt another brush across her cheeks. “Or blush. I don’t want to look like a clown.”

“It’s just a touch, dear. Close your eyes again, please. And don’t wiggle so.”

“Is that mascara? Good Lord, I’ll look like a raccoon.”

Flora tittered. “No you won’t. Open your mouth just a tad. And don’t get upset, it’s only pink lip gloss. There. Now you can look.”

Skye hurried to the bathroom mirror, expecting to see something akin to a hooker, but she was shocked. Her hair looked kind of spikey and not too bad, and the makeup was subtle and very flattering. When she rejoined Flora, she bent and kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Mom.”

Flora beamed. “You’re welcome, dear. You look lovely. Here, slip this in your pocket.” She held out a tube of lip gloss.

The final stamp of approval came when she went downstairs and into the den, where Sam had joined Gabe for a drink.

He stood and a smile spread over his face as he looked at her. “Wow,” he said.

Her stomach settled, and a warm glow stole over her. Wow, indeed. It was Sam who was wow material. He wore a starched white shirt with the cuffs rolled back and low-slung jeans that emphasized his long waist and slim hips. His shoulders seemed enormous. With his star pinned to his shirt and his gun clipped to his belt, he looked every inch the tough Texas Ranger. Until he smiled in that infectious way he had.

“Ready to go boot-scootin’?” he asked, sidling toward her with a playful shake of his hips.

She chucked. “You’ll have to feed me first.”

“I’ll get the car,” Gabe said. “We’ll pick up Belle on the way.”

DINNER WAS GREAT. They ate at a small Mexican restaurant where she had eaten many times, so there wasn’t a problem. Except to wonder where Sam put all those enchiladas.

Walking across the street to Fancy’s was a different story. It was night, and cars were parked everywhere, casting hulking shadows and providing hiding places for God knew who. That terrible feeling of vulnerability stole over Skye. Halfway there her knees began to wobble, and she felt a familiar prickly, sweaty feeling in her scalp. She heard the band playing and several “yee-haws” coming from the place, and her knees shook worse. A big lump rose in her throat and she tried to swallow it back down. She could do this. She could. Dammit, she could!

She took a deep breath and lifted her chin.

“Doing okay?” Sam asked softly.

She smiled. “Doing fine.”

He offered his hand, and she grabbed it like a lifeline, lacing her fingers through his. The strength she felt from touching him steadied her and she calmed down.

But the calm was temporary. The moment Gabe opened the door, music and crowd noise assaulted them. The place was a mob scene. She tensed, aching to run like crazy.

Before she could bolt, Sam put his arm around her, drew her close and said in her ear, “I’ve got you.”

Gus pushed between them, but Sam didn’t let go of her shoulders.

They skirted the dance floor and headed for a table in the corner. Pete and one of the other guards from the compound rose from where they’d been sitting as place holders and turned the table over to the two couples.

When they were seated, Skye looked around and saw several people she knew, who spoke and waved. Sally Olds, her hairdresser, who was in her yoga class, sat at the next table with her husband, Tim.

It seemed as if there were almost no strangers there. Her anxiety level began to slack off.

Sam stood and offered his hand. “Let’s dance.”

“To that?” The band played a fast swing. “I don’t think I could keep up.”

Sam grinned. “Sure you can. Let’s show these folks how it’s done.”

No way could she resist that grin. Against her better judgment, she took his hand and stood. Sam led her to the dance floor, then looked down and laughed. “Gus, are you going to lead or am I?”

Gus had followed them onto the floor, and most of the other people were laughing and pointing.

Skye shrugged her shoulders and grinned. “Sorry about that. Give me a minute.” She led Gus back to her chair and whispered for him to stay.

He whimpered when she walked away, but he didn’t move.

She walked straight into Sam’s arms, and, before she knew it, she was dancing like she’d never danced before, feet flying and laughter bubbling from her like an artesian well. One dance led to another. And another. She could have danced all night, but her breath gave out.