He glanced over. Raney and the asshole were still talking. It didn’t look like they were having fun, so Dalton stayed out of it for now. “What happened?” he asked Joss.
“She caught him cheating.”
Dalton snorted. “Only an idiot would two-time a woman like your sister.”
Joss gave him a look that reminded him of some of the looks Raney had sent his way. Impatience with a hint of disgust. A look most females mastered by puberty. “Not that kind of cheating. He was going through the ranch books.”
“That wasn’t his job?”
“Exactly. That wasn’t his job. Neither the ranch nor the Whitcomb Trust were on his client list. And once he saw how well the trust was doing, or rather, how well Daddy’s investments were doing, he fell instantly in love. Asshole.”
A trust, too? What else didn’t he know? But it explained a lot. Especially why she might think every guy was after her money. Dalton sipped his beer, which was getting warm, while in his head, all the pieces that defined Raney began to fall into place. “How did she find out about it?”
“He let something slip just before their engagement party. When Raney confronted him, he didn’t even try to deny it. He said with him running the operation and handling the investments, they’d be rich enough to move to Dallas and hobnob with all the other Highland Park millionaires.” Joss laughed. “He actually thought she’d leave the ranch and turn everything over to him. Can you imagine that? Raney giving up the reins? No wonder she dumped him.”
No, Dalton couldn’t imagine it. Even in the short time he’d known her, he’d realized the ranch was as important to Raney as breathing. And woe be to any man who stepped between her and Whitcomb Four Star.
“How’d she take the breakup?” he asked.
Joss shrugged. “You know Raney. She took it in stride. I think I was more upset about it than she was.”
Dalton shook his head. “I doubt it. Your sister feels a lot more than you give her credit for. She just locks it all inside.”
Joss frowned up at him. “You think?”
“Talk to her. You might have her figured wrong.” Raney and the asshole were still talking. Neither was smiling. Dalton finished his beer and set the empty on a passing tray. “I think they’ve chatted long enough,” he decided. “Ready to head back?”
“Only if you promise to run him off.”
“I’ll do my best.”
When they arrived at the table, the accountant was scowling and Raney didn’t look any happier than when they’d left, which told Dalton their differences hadn’t been patched up. Excellent. “Sorry it took so long, sweetheart.” He handed Raney her warm beer.
“Thanks.” But instead of keeping the longneck for herself, she passed it to the asshole. “You take it, Trip. I’d rather dance.” And before Joss and Dalton could sit down, Raney rose and turned to her sister. “Joss, it’s the Electric Slide. Or Tush Push. One of those line dances. Whatever. Want to show me and Dalton how to do it?”
“Sure,” Joss said.
Taking Dalton’s hand like it was the most natural thing in the world, she smiled down at the befuddled man sitting alone at the table with his lukewarm beer.
“Thanks for stopping by, Trip. My best to your folks.” Then with a finger waggle that looked more like a brush-off or a poorly executed flip-off than a good-bye wave, she led Dalton after Joss toward the dance floor.
“I think I love you,” Dalton said as they took their places in line.
“Of course you do. Everybody does. I’m a Whitcomb and I’m rich. Now be quiet so I can learn how to do this.”
If Raney was a klutz at the two-step, she was a disaster at line dancing, despite her years as a cheerleader. It was like being caught up in a Three Stooges routine. She gave it a good try but after only a few minutes, they were both laughing so hard at all her missteps they left the dance floor before they injured any of the other dancers.
“They must practice for hours every day,” Raney said as they stood at the rail, watching the dancers stomp by, hands in pockets, heels banging in unison on the floorboards.
“It keeps them off the streets, I guess.”
Dalton looked around. The asshole was gone. But two guys eyeing him from a table nearby looked familiar. Late twenties, wearing faded Texas A&M ball caps. When one of them leaned over to say something to the other, Dalton saw the bright red hair poking out from beneath the cap at the back of his bullish neck and realized who they were.
Cousins of Jim Bob Adkins. He had seen them in the gallery at his arraignment, sitting with the commissioner, Jim Bob’s uncle. They’d made no secret of their hostility then. It was no different now.
Trouble. Dalton recognized the signs. He’d seen it over and over during his short time in prison. The whispers. The looks. Then after they’d built up enough courage with talk, or drugs, or booze, they’d make their move.
He couldn’t stop whatever was about to happen. But he could pick the place.
“Want another beer?” he asked Raney.
“No. I’ve got to hit the restroom as it is. Meet you back here.”
Dalton waited until she was lost in the crowd, then rose and walked out the exit door to the parking lot, the two Aggies following close behind.
Showtime.
* * *
Raney was talking to Suze Anderson in the ladies’ room when Joss burst in. “Two guys are heading outside to fight Dalton. He’ll get hurt. We have to stop it!”
Shit. Trying not to panic, Raney reached for her cell phone, then realized both she and Joss had left them in the truck. “You have a phone?” she asked Suze.
Suze nodded and pulled it out of the
