Rocco backed his old Ford into one of the last parking spots in the section farthest from the bar entrance. Neon signs listed their draft beers and made a wagon wheel appear to be turning. He regretted his decision to come as soon as they walked through the small crowd of people who milled around the entrance. He opened the door for Mandy even as he cast a glower over the crowd, daring any of the men to look at her.
He stared at her back as they walked through the long entranceway, focusing on her as if she were a lifeline. They passed the coat checkroom, restrooms, offices, and kitchen entrance. The place was low ceilinged, paneled in pine, lined with posters, prints and sculptures. Benches made of halved logs sat along the hallway. As the entranceway opened to the main bar area, the crowd thickened.
Mandy seemed to know where she was going. He followed her, his gaze focused ahead of them, making eye contact with the men, claiming her in an ancient way of silent communication between men, one that worked in any culture, anytime. It was brief, subtle, and harmless unless ignored-wholly effective in opening the crowd so that they could pass.
Long rows of tables bordered the dance floor. Large booths lined the walls on three sides, forming a horseshoe around the band and dance floor. Mandy drew Rocco to a corner booth with a circular seat where a woman was sitting between Officer Jerry and another man Rocco had not yet met.
Instantly, Rocco wanted to get Mandy out of there. There was only room for one of them at either end of the half-circle table-he wasn’t going to be able to sit next to her. If he made an issue of it and asked them to scoot around, he’d still have to let Mandy sit next to one of the men. And if he didn’t, she’d be open to approach from men outside their group.
The woman between the two men noticed the situation and quickly pushed against Jerry to get him to move down so that they could both squeeze in beside the other man. Rocco let Mandy get in first, choosing the lesser of the two evils. When they were settled, Mandy performed introductions.
“Ivy, this is Rocco Silas. Rocco, Ivy Banks.” Rocco looked at the woman sitting with them. She had dark hair, black maybe, and blue eyes. She was petite in stature and very pretty. He could see why Kit had fallen for her. It felt odd sitting here with the woman who’d made his friend’s life a living hell. Did Kit know she was back in town?
Rocco had to pull himself out of his thoughts as Mandy introduced him to the men. “You remember Jerry. This is Bobby Gallahan. Bobby, this is Rocco. He’s a friend of Kit’s.”
Rocco met Bobby’s friendly gaze, feeling no warmth for the bastard who had been Mandy’s lover. The man leaned across her to offer a handshake. Jesus. Not that. Not here. He couldn’t do it, couldn’t risk what might happen. He reached for the menu that was lying in the middle of the table instead, ignoring Bobby. The silence that met his rudeness was deafening. He ignored it, too.
A waitress came by to take their order. Rocco asked for an iced tea while Mandy ordered a micro-brew from a local brewery.
“So, Rocco-Jerry says you’re recently back from the war. Thank you for your service,” Bobby said.
Anger flashed inside Rocco. He held still, trying to let the feeling wash through him, but all it did was sit and fester. This stranger thanked him for his service-service that cost him his wife and son and unborn child. Thanked him for becoming more Afghan than American. Thanked him for losing his mind.
He ground his teeth to keep from saying something that would upset Mandy. She must have felt his tension. She put a hand on his thigh. He forced himself to nod at the man, trying to take the comment in the spirit it was intended. He pulled a long breath to calm himself. He knew he shouldn’t have come here tonight.
“Bobby turned pro on the rodeo circuit this year,” Mandy said, providing Rocco a welcome distraction.
Rocco looked at Bobby. “Congrats. What’s your event?”
“Steer wrestling.”
“He rodeoed all through high school and college,” Mandy told him. “He was always hitting up local businesses for sponsorship money before he started earning some nice prizes.”
“They’d see him coming and just take out their wallets,” Jerry added with a chuckle. “Then he struck gold. Found a first-class operation to sponsor him-a bank out of Jackson Hole. Bought him his pretty new rig.”
“Glad to see it’s worked out for you.” Rocco offered, though he couldn’t help but think that while this guy was wrestling steers and dreaming of the PRCA tour, Rocco was navigating the deadly Nangarhar and Kunar provinces in Afghanistan to infiltrate the Taliban’s upper echelon. Christ, how the hell was he going to make a life that held any meaning for him after having spent so many years on a razor’s edge?
“How’s the construction progressing, Mandy?” Ivy asked, moving the subject away from Bobby.
“It’s progressing, but slowly. You know the foundation had to be repoured for part of the stable. Nothing bad has happened since then. Maybe whoever was messing with us has moved on to other mischief. The pole barn is nearly finished. The fencing crews are making good progress in the lower pastures. Rocco has removed most of the barbed wire from the old pastures up by the house.
“Fingers crossed things continue smoothly now. I’m going to bring the horses over in a few weeks, once the upper corrals are finished. After I’ve worked with them a bit, maybe Casey could come over and help me put the horses through their paces. I train them with sacks of hay to get them used to unstable riders, but it would be good to get an actual child in the saddle to play that role.”
“She would love it!” Ivy accepted for her daughter.
The waitress returned with their drinks and took their meal orders. The DJ played a popular slow song that had couples leaving their tables and taking to the floor.
The plaintive chords of the music echoed inside Rocco. He realized how much he’d missed American music- Country especially. He hadn’t heard this song before, though it was obviously an old favorite with the crowd.
Mandy took his hand. He looked at her fingers bending across his knuckles and knew she was asking, oh so sweetly, if they couldn’t please dance. He looked at his hand, his forearm, his other forearm. All he saw was his blue chambray sleeves. No blood. No burned flesh. He’d come this far with no repercussions. Perhaps he could risk a dance.
He got out of the booth and offered Mandy his hand. The feel of her soft palm in his was almost more than he could bear. They moved around the tables and joined the swaying crowd on the dance floor.
Multicolored Christmas lights hung off suspended wagon wheel chandeliers, casting a festive glow across the dancers. The room was warm, filled with heated bodies in motion. The music was loud. The scents of food and liquor were strong in the air. Yet, when he faced Mandy on the floor, it all receded. It was as if he’d ducked under water, hearing things only through a dense filter. She smiled at him. He did not smile back. It took every ounce of his concentration to keep control of himself.
He’d wanted to hold her, to feel her in his arms, for the longest damn time. He knew her skin would be like velvet. He placed his hand on her waist, starting the dance with a respectful distance between their bodies. Somehow, on the crowded floor, she ended up against him, soft, curvy. Her naked legs forked his, her leather boots making shuffling sounds against the grainy floor. When she laid her head against his shoulder, he couldn’t resist pressing his face against her silky hair. He breathed her scent, faint, elusive. Its sweetness reminded him of jasmine. But not of Kadisha. Never her.
Heat pooled in his groin, intensified by the pressure of her belt buckle against his cock, every movement a stroke against his arousal. His hand traveled upward over her back, holding her tighter against him, pinning her breasts against his ribs. Others were dancing as close. No one noticed the liberties he was taking. He pressed his lips against the crown of her head. She moved slightly. He kissed halfway to her temple, and then touched his lips to the bare skin of her forehead.
He wasn’t even aware the music had faded into another song with a faster tempo. She looked up at him, her body fully against his, her eyes dark like a secret forest, promising him the tranquility he sought. This, this was what he’d needed, what he’d craved.
A man tapped him on the shoulder. “Mind if I take this dance?”
Rocco’s left hand flashed upward to grab the intruder’s Adam’s apple in an instantaneous reaction before realizing it was Bobby. Mandy straightened and pulled at his hand before he could close his fist and crush the son of a bitch’s windpipe.
“Rocco, stop. It’s only a dance.”
Rocco frowned down at her as he let the rodeo star go. “You
Rodeo didn’t give her a chance to answer. He took hold of her and moved her deeper onto the dance floor.
