shot glass. “I’m running hot and cold tonight. Part of it’s Mike.”
“Bad memories?”
“Like I said, it’s not what you think,” she said. “He’s my sister’s ex. Knocked her up, made a big deal out of ‘doing the right thing’ and marrying her, and then last year he walked out. Said he’d married too young and needed to have a good time.”
“Oh.” Maybe he’d misjudged her. She had every reason to hate that guy. But what was her sister’s ex-husband doing here in Wyoming?
“How…”
He didn’t even have to finish the question. It was like she couldn’t wait to tell him. “I’m from here. Well, near here.” The words tangled on her tongue. The tequila was talking, but she didn’t seem to care. Stiff, stuck-up Sarah was gone. He could almost believe she was from Humboldt.
“I thought you were from New York or something.”
“That’s what you’re supposed to think.” She sighed. “For God’s sake, don’t tell Eric. He thinks I’m just like him. Like you. To the manor born. But I’m—I’m actually from Two Shot.”
She said it like she was admitting to mass murder. Now it was his turn to look away as he tried to figure out how to respond. He kind of wanted to laugh, but that would obviously hurt her. She was confiding in him, letting him into her life as surely as she had when she’d kissed him. And it was becoming more and more obvious that letting people in wasn’t easy for her.
She was watching his face, her eyes flicking up to his to gauge his expression.
“You sure don’t seem like a small-town girl,” he finally said.
“Thank you.”
“That’s not necessarily a compliment.”
“I know.”
The waitress set down a pitcher of beer and two plastic cups, shooting Lane a sexy little smile. Sarah grabbed the pitcher and started pouring. She’d filled the cup halfway with foam before Lane took the pitcher from her and finished the job, holding the cup at an angle so the beer poured smooth and clear.
“I hated it, Lane.” Sarah took the cup from him and sipped. “You think Two Shot’s so great, but I couldn’t have spent my whole life there.”
“I wish I had.”
“I know. You call it your hometown. But you never—I mean, I’m from there, and I never saw you there. We would have known each other.”
She stopped short of accusing him of lying, but he could see the doubt in her eyes.
“I wasn’t there much,” he explained. “It was as close to being home as anything I had, but I spent most of my time in boarding schools back East.”
“Boarding schools?”
“Exeter.”
She drew back and scanned his face like she was looking for the stuck-up preppie hidden under his cowboy facade. “You’re kidding.”
Apparently she couldn’t even imagine him at a swanky school. He should probably be insulted, but as far as he was concerned that was a good thing.
“I hated it,” he said. “I might not have spent much time at the ranch, but it was home. My real home. The two weeks a year we spent on the ranch were the best times of my life.” He took her hand and laced her fingers in his own. “The prep schools were my dad’s idea. He wanted nothing more than to leave the ranch behind.” He flashed her a questioning look. “Kind of like you.”
“What I’m leaving behind isn’t twenty thousand acres and a family empire. We didn’t even have a home—just a series of trailers and apartments. We had a ranch for a while, but…”
He could almost see the shield going up. The light in her eyes dimmed and she swallowed, turning her attention to their interlaced fingers, staring at them as if they were so absorbing she couldn’t possibly continue the conversation.
“The ranch?” he prodded gently.
“We lost it. So there’s nothing in Two Shot for me but a bunch of bad memories.”
She dropped his hand and straightened in her chair. Obviously, talking about Two Shot was not the way to win her over.
“I suppose I shouldn’t claim it as my hometown,” he said. “I didn’t actually grow up there.”
“That’s okay.” She sipped her beer and rolled her eyes. “You can have it. I don’t mind. And I’m sure they’d be happy to put up a sign for you at the city limits. You know, Home of Rodeo Champion Lane Carrigan. Something like that.”
“That’s not what I want,” he said. “I just want to belong there.”
The minute the words were out, he wanted to take them back. How pathetic was that?