Elizabeth hated attention. She knew there were those in town who’d always called her Ms. Perfect and hoped to see her get her comeuppance. Although she’d been Harry’s victim in all this, they blamed her. She couldn’t think how to repair her former standing in the community as Elizabeth Barnes, “first lady”—how to get her legs under her again, so to speak. Goodness, she sounded like Dallas Maguire, the rodeo guy who’d moved in next door last January, renting the former Whittaker house while he recovered from serious injuries.
Fortunately for her, he’d been easy to avoid—especially after her divorce became final. Dallas had spent a lot of his time since then doing rehab, until he’d disappeared a few weeks ago. She’d finally stopped looking out her kitchen window, wondering where he’d gone. All for the best, she’d thought.
Elizabeth heard a third knock at the door, reminding her that—thanks again to her mother—she had manners. “Coming,” she finally said, then opened the door. To her surprise, hands in his back pockets, Dallas stood on the porch assessing a pot of red geraniums, and after a quick glance at the back of his head, his dark hair, she looked away. Even in jeans and a faded T-shirt, he was an amazing sight, but since that day with him in May, she’d tried not to notice. “Dallas, I’m not in good shape today. Maybe you could come back later.” Or not at all.
Dallas turned toward her. His electric-blue gaze drifted over her, probably seeing the remnants of her tears—seeing too much—and Elizabeth fought an urge to swipe them away. He was the gregarious type who’d probably never met a stranger, and the day her divorce was finalized he’d certainly pried Elizabeth out of her shell, the one she wanted to pull around her now like a cloak. An awkwardness nagged at her, an awareness of him that she couldn’t afford to indulge again.
Dallas edged his broad-shouldered way into the house. He took only a few steps, but she could see he’d suffered a setback.
“You’re limping again. What happened?”
The last time she’d seen him, he’d been doing so well with his recovery from that bad spill on the circuit.
He shrugged. “Tried a rodeo in Houston. Just to see if I could ride. The bull disagreed. Hurt myself again—nothing too bad, but my hip’s unhappy this morning. Had to spend more time than I’d planned away from here.”
“In a hospital?” Not long ago, he’d spent considerable time in one.
“Nah, resting a bit.” She doubted that was the full story. “Then I paid my folks a quick visit. Sorry I haven’t been around.” His gaze strayed from hers. “You mad at me? I mean, because—”
The memory of that day in May was suddenly front and center again. “Dallas, I never did anything like that in my life. I never will again.”
“Make love?” His mouth tilted in a smile before he sobered. “I want you to know, I didn’t intend for anything to happen that day.”
“Yes, but we both know how that turned out.”
“I came over to see if you were all right, that’s all.”
“I’m fine.” She could feel her cheeks heat. She couldn’t look at him either. The memory of that afternoon, in broad daylight while her children were in school...the warmth of Dallas’s touch, at first on her shoulder to comfort when he’d come from next door, seemed very real again. But then she’d collapsed in tears—never prone to crying, she’d done more than her share this year—and found herself wrapped in Dallas’s arms. And he’d kissed her...
“Dallas, I barely know you. I’m still mortified that I let things get so out of control. I acted like a...woman hoping to be rescued, but I’m not that person.” She managed a weak laugh. “My mother saw to it that I know how to behave in every situation.” She shook her head. “I still can’t believe I did that—”
“We did that,” he corrected her. “If you want me to be sorry, then I am. But let’s leave that for now. You’re divorced. You can start fresh, go on with your life and make whatever you want of it. Try something just for you.”
“Like what?”
With the beginnings of another smile, he shrugged again. “I don’t know. Take a trip, a cruise. Sign up for some course you’ve always wanted to take. Talk to a friend—meaning me.” But even considering their onetime mistake together, she and Dallas weren’t friends; they were neighbors, that was all, and temporary at that. He didn’t seem to agree. “Let’s have dinner tonight. My way of apologizing. I’ll make reservations at the Bon Appetit. What time?”
“Food doesn’t appeal to me. Go home,” she said with a half smile of her own. “I’m in hiding. I may stay here all summer.”
“Uh-uh.” Dallas leaned in the doorway. “Not buying that, and—wow—” He glanced around the living room. Not a thing out of place. No toys scattered across the carpet, no children’s books or games or art projects on view. Elizabeth’s spirits sank even lower.
“I know,” she said. “It’s never looked this good.” She’d spent the last half hour tidying up. And mopping tears.
“I saw them all leave.” He slanted her a look. “You really okay?”
“No,” she admitted, which seemed obvious. Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “And that’s the same question you asked me in May.” Which had started something she’d never be able to forget or overlook. The town gossips would have a field day with that. If they
