Honorable Rancher. Barbara Daille White

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      Chapter One

      Always a bridesmaid, never a bride.

      Ben Sawyer had heard folks say that of some women. Not the one standing on the far side of the banquet hall from him, though. The one who’d done her best all day to avoid him.

      Dana Wright had once worn a long white gown and walked down the aisle to meet her groom. He should know, as he’d stood up near the altar holding the ring his best friend would slip onto her finger.

      Now, if the saying held true for the male side of a wedding party, he surely fit the bill.

      Always a groomsman, never a groom.

      Always losing out.

      No sense worrying over it. He’d made his decisions a long time ago. Still, he had to fight to keep his eyes from tracking Dana’s every move.

      Twirling the stem of his champagne glass in his fingers, he watched the couples two-stepping past him. After plenty of turns on the dance floor himself this evening, he’d decided to sit this one out. Every once in a while, in a gap between the couples, he could see the opposite side of the hall. Just then, he caught sight of Dana disappearing through one of the glass doors to the terrace.

      The newlyweds danced toward him.

      “Having fun yet?” Tess asked.

      “Absolutely,” he confirmed. “Like everyone else.”

      Except Dana?

      Tess’s groom, Caleb, swept her away.

      Ben set his glass on a nearby waiter’s tray and began circling the room. Every few feet, someone stopped him. While he always enjoyed a good conversation, the interruptions came more often than he would’ve liked right now.

      Finally, he eased away from a small group and edged over to the doorway Dana had exited through.

      In the light from the carriage lamps outside, he saw her standing alone near one of the stone fountains flanking the club’s entrance. He frowned and went through the door, pulling it closed behind him without a sound.

      Her back to the building, she stared down into the water pooling in the base of the fountain. Lamplight and moonlight combined to make the silver combs in her blond hair sparkle. The combs held her hair up, exposing the smooth, pale skin of her neck. A row of buttons that matched her long pink dress marched down to the point where a bunch of lacy fabric covered the sweet curves of her hips.

      His mouth went dry. He’d have welcomed another glass of champagne at the moment. Hell, he needed it to wet his tight throat. To occupy his hands. His fingers itched to touch those buttons now taunting him.

      How had she managed to get into that dress all by herself? Would she need a hand getting out of it?

      He shook his head at the stupidity—and the futility—of his questions. Of his dreams. Nine-year-old Lissa had probably buttoned her mother’s dress and would unbutton it, too. In any case, Dana certainly wouldn’t want his help. She didn’t want his assistance with anything.

      That gave him trouble, in view of the promise he’d made to his best friend. A promise he aimed to keep.

      For a moment, he stood there considering his next move. Unusual for him. Folks teased that he’d talk to a tree if he couldn’t find a person handy to listen to him. Yet, for the first time in his life, he didn’t know what to say.

      He took a deep breath and let it out again. Not wanting to startle her, he called her name in a low tone.

      Without turning to look, she raised her chin a notch. She’d recognized his voice and gone into defensive mode. Hadn’t he known she would? The sight should have made him turn around and leave. Instead, he smiled.

      He never could pass up a challenge.

      He ambled across the open space to stand by her side. Her head barely reached his shoulder. He caught the faint scent of a flowery perfume. When she neither lowered her chin nor looked at him, he gestured toward one of the small stone benches near the fountain. “How about you relax and we call a truce for tonight? After all, we’re here to celebrate with Tess and Caleb.”

      She glanced from the bench to the country club as if assessing the lesser of two evils. “You’re right, it’s their night.” With a small sigh, she took a seat.

      The bench proved narrower than he’d expected and put him closer to her than he should’ve risked, truce or no truce. Their arms touched. Their elbows bumped. It would have made sense for him to wrap his arm around her shoulders. They were friends, weren’t they? But once he’d touched her, could he keep it at that?

      Her expression softened. “Caleb went all out for Tess, didn’t he?”

      “Renting the biggest hall within a hundred miles of Flagman’s Folly? I’ll say. Good of him to invite all the folks from town to the wedding, too.”

      “He seemed surprised that everyone accepted. But I know they wanted to wish him and Tess well.” She smiled softly. “Tess makes a beautiful bride.”

      You did, too. Without missing a beat, he changed the words that had come so quickly to him. “You’re looking good in that maid of honor dress yourself.”

      “Matron,” she said. “Being a widow makes me a matron of honor.”

      Which makes you a woman alone with three little kids. So, why won’t you accept my help? He couldn’t ask that tonight. Not after he’d called for a ceasefire between them. He probably wouldn’t ask that ever, as nine times out of ten, the shots came from Dana’s side of their conversations. She’d never acted so defensively with him before Paul died.

      “What is it they’re calling Nate again?” he asked. Nate was the bride and groom’s nine-year-old tomboy and the best buddy of Dana’s daughter Lissa. Like the girls, Tess and Dana had been best friends all through school.

      “A junior bridesmaid.” She laughed. “Nate stopped fighting over wearing a dress the minute Caleb said he’d get her a pair of boots made to match his. She held her ground about being a flower girl, though.”

      He chuckled. “That sounds like her. Well, Sam’s little girl had a good time dropping those petals in the church aisle. I heard you made her dress. And yours. Nice.”

      Damn him for using the compliment, but it gave him a reason to touch her lacy pink sleeve.

      She shied like a filly come eye to eye with a rattler.

      He clasped his hands together and stared down СКАЧАТЬ