Backlash Tender Trap Aftermath - Lisa Jackson Page 0,171
her side of his Jeep and stepped outside. She heard Colton’s chuckle and pretended that her nerves weren’t stretched tight.
Colton caught up with her on the brick steps just as she rang the bell. Laughter and conversation sifted through the closed windows.
Colton tucked his arm around her waist. “You know,” she said, hearing footsteps approaching, “I thought you were avoiding me.”
“Never.” He squeezed her, and she couldn’t help but grin.
“You haven’t been around the ranch lately.”
“Because of Denver. I had to talk to his attorney in Helena and get a few things ready ... besides,” he glanced down at her, and the hand against the small of her back felt suddenly warm, “I thought you wanted a little time to think things through.”
“I did—”
The door flew open, and Paula Edwards, her red hair piled high on her head, abdomen protruding roundly, waved them inside. “Colton and Cassie! Come in, come in. Here, Nate, take Cassie’s coat.”
A burly, muscular man whose dark hair was shot with gray, Nate Edwards was fifteen years older than his young wife. He sported a gold-capped tooth and a recently added mustache. Wearing a western-cut suit and string tie, he reached for Cassie’s coat and hung it in the closet. “How’re things going?” he asked Colton.
“Better. Denver got back today.”
“So now you can take off again, eh?” Nate asked, clapping Colton on the back. “You never were one to sit around much.”
Colton slid a heart-stopping glance to Cassie. “Maybe I’ve changed.”
“Sure you have,” Nate agreed with a throaty chuckle. “I’ll believe that when palm trees sprout in the Rockies. Come on in and let me buy you a drink.” He led them into a huge living room where other guests mingled and sipped from tulip-shaped glasses. Quiet conversation was muted by the sound of music drifting from an adjoining room.
“Champagne or Scotch?”
Colton glanced sideways at his host.
“Scotch,” Nate decided, taking his place as bartender at a mirrored bar and pouring Cassie a glass of champagne. He handed them their respective drinks, then tugged at the strings surrounding his throat. “Damned things. I don’t know why Paula insists we dress up.”
“It’s just her way of keeping you in line,” Cassie teased, sipping from her glass.
“I s’pose. Sure is a bother, though.” Nate poured himself a stiff shot and took a swallow. “Sorry to hear about all your trouble with Black Magic. A damned shame, that’s what it is. Lost twice in two years and now strangles. Sometimes ranchin’ can be a real bitch.” He shook his head and smoothed his hair.
Cassie stiffened, expecting Colton to argue about the horse being stolen, instead he just nodded affably, though his jaw was clamped tight.
The doorbell pealed, and Nate, catching Paula’s eye, finished his drink quickly. “Duty calls,” he muttered, sauntering toward the foyer and leaving Colton and Cassie in a room crowded with neighboring ranchers and townspeople.
Cassie knew almost everyone. She smiled and waved, made small talk and mingled. Colton didn’t leave her for a minute. More than a few people glanced their way, and some of the ranchers’ smiles seemed forced. She felt hateful undercurrents in the air.
Matt Wilkerson’s lips had flattened at the sight of Colton, and Vince Monroe’s smile had fallen from his face.
Then Cassie saw Jessica Monroe sliding Colton secretive glances.
Jessica’s blond hair spilled over her shoulders in luxurious waves, and her white satin-and-lace dress seemed almost bridal. She sipped champagne, giggled and kept her arm looped through Ryan Ferguson’s, though her gaze wandered over the crowd and lingered on Colton. Colton didn’t seem to notice.
“Cassie!” Beth Simpson waved from the far side of the room. She’d already kicked off her shoes and was seated in an apricot-colored velvet chair. Her dress, a billowing amber-and-yellow print, spilled over her distended belly.
Glad to see a friendly face, Cassie waved back and wound her way through the knots of people to her friend. “I thought you were supposed to be in the hospital,” she said, remembering the gossip she’d heard in town. “What’re you doing here?”
“Waiting for my water to break,” Beth grumbled. “I did go into County General, but it was false labor. I felt like a fool, too, since this”—she tapped her abdomen—“isn’t my first.”
“Well, you fit right in,” Cassie observed just as Denver and Tessa walked into the room. Tessa looked absolutely radiant. Her face was glowing; her strawberry-blond hair shimmered under the dimmed lights. “It looks like we’ve got an epidemic of pregnant ladies,” she joked.