Chapter Six
As it turned out, Matt had arrived just in time.
He barely set foot over the threshold of Rusty’s Saloon when a green-eyed brunette beauty all but plowed into him on her way out. Larissa was looking over her shoulder, not paying attention to where she was going, her purse in one hand and a denim jacket in the other.
He reached out to steady her shoulders a second before she rammed into his chest. Not that he would have minded the contact, but he guessed she would rather be spared a face full of his thermal shirt.
“Oh!” She made a soft exclamation, her expression momentarily fierce until her gaze connected with his and she recognized him.
It would have been gratifying to see the warm spark in her eyes if that bright light hadn’t been quickly replaced by wariness.
“In a hurry?” He couldn’t quite let go of her yet. She wore a blue sleeveless dress that clung just a little, the skirt flaring out at her knees.
With her hair pinned up and a ribbon tied in a choker around her neck—a silver heart pendant dangling off the fabric, she looked impossibly pretty. A pair of dark leather boots her only nod to the bar’s western vibe. Behind her, the dance floor was already crowded with happy hour couples two-stepping past the howling coyote mural painted on one wall.
“You have no idea,” she said on a rushed breath while steel guitars twanged a mournful tune through the speaker system. “Your sister and her girl squad have taken it into their heads to ride the mechanical bull. They threatened to put me on it next.”
His lips twitched despite his best effort not to smile. “Did you tell them you weren’t dressed for bull riding?”
A noisy group of young guys ambled through the door, letting a blast of cold night air into the bar. Matt released Larissa’s shoulders to wrap a protective arm around her waist. He guided her toward a corner table vacated just a moment ago. Quickly, he claimed it for them by pulling out a chair and holding it for Larissa.
“Of course I did.” She dropped into the seat and set her things on the vacant chair beside her. “One girl ran out to her car to retrieve a pair of extra jeans that she swore would fit, and another provided chaps. Because, you know, everyone just happens to have a spare set in their truck.” She peered over her shoulder again, as if Callie and her friends might swoop in and steal her back at any moment.
“Callie’s friends do. Half of them have been entering amateur rodeos since they turned eighteen.” He waved over a waitress, determined to buy Larissa dinner or a drink to prevent her from leaving. He asked for some menus.
“Well, I’m not ready to make a spectacle of myself.” She waved away the menu he handed her. “I’m fine. I was just going to head back home when you arrived.”
“Have you eaten?”
She hesitated. “No, but—”
“Then I insist you join me. I owe you dinner for all the work you did at my house today.” He didn’t mention the fact that he’d wanted to cook for her personally. That he’d planned a sunset dinner to share on the deck. Not that he’d given up on that plan. He’d simply put it on hold.
“As in a date? Just us?” Her fingers closed around the jean jacket beside her.
“As in we both feed ourselves after a long day in the sun.” He shoved her menu closer to her, deciding perhaps this was the better plan after all given how jittery she was. “Safely surrounded by half the population of Cheyenne.”
“It does seem busy here,” she acknowledged, looking around. “What gives?”
“New ownership, I guess. Better menu.” He shrugged. “I have my hands full figuring out how to make a successful ranch. I leave it to the restaurateurs of the world to navigate their own business.”
“I am kind of starving,” she said finally, picking up the menu. “Your sister’s friends were all too busy ordering glitzy cocktails to think about real food.”
“Looks like I arrived just in time.” Matt didn’t spend long savoring the victory of winning her over, though. He was already busy dreaming up ways to get her on the dance floor and in his arms.
Right where he wanted her.
*
Larissa couldn’t believe two hours had passed when she checked her watch after dinner. She had forgotten how much she enjoyed talking to Matt. Not flirting or daydreaming about him. Just talking.
He was smart about ranching and worked hard to provide for all the people and animals in his care. He felt a responsibility to his family and to himself to help his father’s legacy thrive. He spoke passionately about new initiatives to make both businesses more successful, but beneath the hopeful outlook he had for both places, Larissa sensed an underlying worry.
Especially when he spoke of the improvements needed at Briggs Ranch.
“Couldn’t you wait on some of the infrastructure changes and just buy the breeding stock?” she asked, sipping from an after-dinner glass of amaretto that had been her only alcoholic indulgence of the evening in spite of her friends trying to entice her to have a round or two earlier.
All around them, the patrons of Rusty’s Saloon got louder and more rowdy. Twice she had to fend off Callie’s friends who wanted her to try the mechanical bull. The music in the place volleyed from country pop to older, two-stepping favorites. For the most part though, her table with Matt was a bit more insulated from the dancers and the bar, the booths tucked behind a half wall with a pool table and some dartboards as a buffer.
“My father had already postponed the changes before he died. Now, almost a year after his death, I don’t think it’s fair to ask Jeb and his guys to continually fight the uphill battle of outdated equipment and systems breaking down as often as they’re working.”
“Isn’t that the reality of ranch work for most people, though?” She took another sip of the almond liqueur, appreciating the delicate warmth on her tongue and the fragrant scent. “My dad juggled the sheep ranch on a shoestring budget for two years before he sold it, and even then, the Hendersons paid more than market value for it because of the high quality of the livestock. What if you scaled back instead of spending more? Limited the number of cattle so you’re saving on feed and irrigation. Not putting so much strain on the equipment? My dad could have squeezed another year or two out of our farm at least.”
Much to her frustration. She’d tried not to blame him for his need to leave Wyoming after her mother’s death. Yet his haste had put Larissa in a tough position, forcing her to make up her mind sooner rather than later about following a dance career.
“I didn’t know that.” Matt frowned, setting aside his whiskey glass—his only drink of the night as well.
“I helped come up with the plan, actually.” She’d majored in dance performance in school, but she’d been working on a minor in agriculture business when she’d left college to pursue a career in New York. “I was inspired by that small market economy class I took with you in my freshman year. Remember?”
“I was seriously distracted by the girl who sat in front of me, so I’m not sure I’d recall all the specifics.” His warm brown eyes lingered on hers. “But, yes, I remember taking the course.”
She felt his gaze like a caress, her skin coming alive even though he did nothing more than look at her with heat in his eyes.
That class happened before they’d started carpooling to school. She’d been distracted that year too, though a lot of it had to do with grief over losing her mom and trying to hold her father together.
“I thought at the time I’d really figured out something significant to help my dad’s ranch stay in business without my mother, since she’d been instrumental in the wool operation.”
She had enjoyed sharing that interest with her mother, but Laurie Martine had been raised on a Montana cattle farm and her father hadn’t believed in sending his daughters to college. Swallowing back fledgling drawing talents, Larissa’s mother had followed in her family’s footsteps, contributing to the ranching operation until she’d met Kiefer—Larissa’s dad. She’d followed him to Wyoming in the hope of working a different kind of ranch—one where she could put her artistic skills to work with weaving.
In the end, Laurie felt like she’d spent far more time caring for animals than pursuing her art. A mistake she wouldn’t allow Larissa to make, wresting a promise from her that she wouldn’t quit dancing.
“Your mother had a real gift for working with sheep,” Matt observed, reaching across the scarred wooden table to cover her hand with his. “Just like you.” His thumb stroked along the back of her knuckles. Soothing. “Did you know Hattie keeps one of Laurie’s weavings in her sitting room upstairs?”
“Does she?” Larissa hadn’t managed to save much of her mother’s work, the majority of her leftover inventory going to the Hendersons when her father sold the ranch. It touched her heart to think of Mrs. Briggs hanging one of the pieces that Larissa’s mom had worked on in her limited free time.
“Yes. The weaving takes up most of one wall. I never made the connection when you and I were together, but my mom mentioned it a few years ago.” He wrapped his hand around hers, enveloping her fingers in the warmth of his palm. “Larissa, I’m not sure why you never talked to me much about dancing when we were dating, but I hope you know I would have never tried to hold you back from pursuing your dreams. I knew how important it was to you.”
Surprised at the direction the conversation had taken, especially when Matt had made it clear that he understood she’d be leaving again after the wedding, Larissa hesitated before speaking.
“I know,” she said finally, nodding too fast.
“Do you?” His dark eyes searched hers while the opening bars of a slow tune filtered through the speakers, the lights over the dance floor dimming as the blue moon—a neon sign—rose.
She remembered the song well. She’d taught Matt how to waltz to it.
“Absolutely.” Her breath caught at the memories the tune brought back. Touches. Laughter. Kisses. “But maybe I liked the break from thinking about dancing when we were together. Once my mother died, I always knew I’d need to honor her wishes. She was so sure it was the right path for me. But I wasn’t certain. Being with you was a break from the exhausting practices and all the pressure I put on myself to succeed. When we were together, I liked thinking about your world—the world my dad walked away from so easily.”
His touch distracted her and made her confide things she hadn’t been able to admit even to herself back then. With their old song playing, her heart traveled back to that long, incredible evening in the barn while it had rained buckets outside.
“I knew how much time you spent at rehearsals though. I should have known how much it dominated your life.” He brushed a kiss over the inside of her palm before setting it back down. “But what made you think you had to choose between dancing and me?”
Her heart squeezed tight at the question she’d asked herself countless times. Hearing him say it only made the old ache sting deeper. There really only was one answer and he had to know that. Assuming otherwise was just plain torture—then and now.
“Even if you didn’t ask me to choose, I knew there would still be a choice, Matt. Because the ranch couldn’t go to Manhattan. And Broadway wouldn’t come to the ranch. I saw how deeply my mother regretted her sacrifice for the sake of love.” It hurt knowing that she’d been one of the responsibilities that had kept her mother from realizing her dreams. “I couldn’t have asked you to walk away from everything important to you to be with me.”
“Not everything.” His touch was warm and sure. His gaze level. “You were important to me, too.”
The wealth of sentiment behind those few simple words robbed her of speech. Matt had never been overly romantic, even when they’d dated. But that didn’t mean his emotions didn’t run deep. Far from it.
She caught a glimpse of those emotions for just a moment before he stood, keeping hold of her hand.
“Dance with me, Larissa.”
A cowboy’s command shouldn’t make her heart skip a beat like that.
But this was Matt and he wanted to dance.
Here. Now. In front of a whole bar full of people.
As a professional dancer, Larissa understood it might intimidate an amateur to cut the proverbial rug with her, even if it was just a cowboy bar. Yet Matt didn’t hesitate. He led her unerringly to a clear spot on the floor and drew her into the circle of his arms. Right hand around her back. Left hand holding hers at shoulder height between them.
They were in the middle of the song, but it didn’t matter. Matt found his place easily. Waiting a three-count before dancing her backward, just like she’d taught him in another lifetime. It was just a simple country waltz. Not really much to it, but then, some of the best dances were the easiest. You just fell into the rhythm and let the music carry you.
In this case, she let Matt carry them. What an unexpected pleasure to give over control that way and have him take the lead. She stepped lightly in her boots, her skirt flaring around her knees as he twirled her under his arm. The first time they’d done that, he’d been so busy watching her spin that he’d forgotten to tug her out of it and keep dancing. But it was clear that this Matt was not the same partner she remembered.
He deftly swapped the hand that held hers over her head, plucking up her left hand in his left one with her back to him. The changes were smooth as their arms lifted as one. She passed through. He passed through. They moved together like they’d been coupled for years, gliding along the hardwood floor in the glow of blue neon light.
Vaguely, she was aware that people watched them. Simple country waltz though it might be, in a bar full of two-steppers, they drew attention. If Matt noticed, she couldn’t tell. He focused on her like she was the only woman in the world, until everyone else fell away and it was just them, dancing to their song.
Larissa would have gone on all night just that way. His hand steady and warm on her back. His body a solid frame around hers, protecting her from the rest of the world as they moved. But as the closing notes sounded, Matt slowed his step. Paused for a fraction of a second. And then, just like they’d done eight years ago, he dipped her low over his arm.
That moment where he hovered over her drew out for long moments, suspended in time. In the past, on that rainy night in the barn, they’d punctuated the end of the dance with a kiss.
The memory of it shimmered between them while the next song began. She remained motionless, spellbound by Matt’s dark gaze and the awareness of an attraction that had only grown hotter.
Would he kiss the same way he did then? Or would the kiss, like the dance, be all the more potent?
She couldn’t wait to find out. Eyes drifting closed, wanting to feel the press of his mouth on hers, she instead felt his palm shift on her back, gently levering her upright until they were inches apart. Breathing heavily, she had to blink away the fog of desire to gauge his expression.
Then a piercing wolf whistle screeched through the bar. Applause broke out along the edges of the dance floor along with a few shrill squeals.
“Bravo!” shouted Callie, unrepentant leader of her girl squad, a few of whom still balanced their fruity drinks in one hand while shouting their approval. “Nice moves!”
Matt’s voice was a soft rumble against Larissa’s ear. “I can only hope she’s referring to the dance.”
Larissa swallowed a laugh while she gave a half-hearted thumbs-up to Callie.
“You ready to get out of here?” Matt asked, taking her hand again and reigniting all that thwarted chemistry.
Larissa didn’t think twice or bother asking what he meant. “Absolutely.”