Maybe he could simply get back on top of this. Maybe he could shut his thoughts down. Maybe he could even rethink all this. So that he got his mind back where it needed to be. So that he got himself sorted right back out, and never thought of this or touching her like this ever again. Maybe.
“Hunter,” she said.
Her name was a whisper on her lips, and there was something strange about that too. That she was saying his name like a question rather than a curse, that she angled her body slightly and brought herself up against him. And he could feel her. Her pert, beautiful breasts and other feminine curves he convinced himself that Elsie Garrett just didn’t have. And that he would never be able to unsee or unknow.
“Where did you learn to dance?” he asked.
“You,” she said, but it was softer than she ever normally spoke.
“Me?”
“You always let me dance on your feet. At the bonfire.”
He didn’t need to think about all the things he’d taught her. From horseback riding to dancing. He really didn’t. Not now.
“I’m not on your feet now,” she said, looking up at him from beneath her lashes.
It was dangerous.
She was dangerous.
Then the song ended, and it was like a sign. One he heeded, unlike all the other obvious warnings that had gone off inside of him up until now.
He released his hold on her and didn’t touch her at all as they went back to their table, as he took the bill and settled it. Didn’t touch her at all as they walked out of the country club and waited for his truck to be brought up by the valet.
And he felt like he had his feet back under him when he was in his pickup, which was a piece of home.
Elsie was a piece of home, but that didn’t seem to be doing anything to keep his head planted in reality.
“Thank you,” she said when they were midway between the motel and the club.
He grunted in response.
Then she didn’t say anything more. They pulled up in the space nearest to their room, and he got out of the truck. Then went to open her door for her, but she was already out and headed to the room, and she was holding her shoes in her hands, letting them dangle from her finger.
And for one moment he let himself acknowledge that if she were anyone but Elsie Garrett, he knew exactly what he’d be doing once they were back in that room.
He’d take her shoes from her hands, and toss them on the floor, wrap his arm around her waist and...
He jammed the key in the lock and opened the door.
She looked up at him, but said nothing and went into the room. He followed behind and said nothing.
She went up to her bed and gathered up a bundle, then went into the bathroom and closed the door with a decisive click.
He stripped down and grabbed a pair of sweats he wouldn’t normally bother with, and as soon as he pulled them on Elsie reappeared, in that same little owl shirt, with her dress wadded up in a ball.
And her bra hanging off her wrist.
She dumped the clothes, including the dress, into a duffel bag, then climbed into bed.
And he just stood there like a damned idiot, heat in his veins that had no business being there.
“Good night,” she said.
“Good night.”
And he couldn’t escape the feeling that even though he hadn’t touched her, he’d done something he could never take back.
This whole weekend felt like something he could never take back.
That’s stupid bullshit. You’ve seen any number of horrible things and you didn’t let it change you. A weekend with Elsie in a tight dress won’t do it.
She was just Elsie, after all.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ELSIE HAD FELT peeled and rolled in salt since she and Hunter had gotten back from Vancouver and she couldn’t talk to anyone about it. She didn’t even want to think about it in her own damned head, let alone talk about it.
Mostly because she couldn’t even put it into words or coherent thoughts. Or anything other than feelings she didn’t want. Couldn’t identify.
And it wasn’t even all the dinner dates, or sleeping in the motel room together. It was...it was what he’d told her about his childhood. What she’d told him about hers.
The stuff about his mom and how he was glad she left, for her own sake, like his didn’t matter.
The reminders that he’d taught her to ride, taught her to dance.
And she’d been thinking ever since. About every horse ride, about every time he’d ever spun her in front of the campfire or in the bar.
But at the country club...
They’d been like different people.
She’d felt different in that dress, in those heels. And he’d held her different, she knew he had. It had been different.
Not awkward, and maybe it should have been. But it wasn’t.
It wasn’t.
She was raw with it, and she should just be amped to see Travis, because wasn’t she right in the pocket now? She was warmed up with the flirting so it should be all good. She’d been back from Vancouver for twenty-four hours and hadn’t seen Hunter since. Or Travis. Or Alaina for that matter, and she felt jittery and thwarted.
But tonight was a town hall and that meant they’d all see each other. All the four main families, the employees and all their families.
Alaina texted about an hour beforehand and asked Elsie to come and help get chairs set up, and Elsie complied, driving her truck over to the Sullivans’ and parking in front of the barn. Alaina came bounding out of the barn, her red hair flying in the wind. “So. Tell me everything.”
For a moment, everything in Elsie’s brain stalled out. And she wondered how Alaina knew.
And then she realized, and it was like getting struck by a freight train carrying horror as a cargo. She hadn’t thought of Alaina once the whole time she was gone. And she hadn’t thought about Alaina’s feelings for Hunter.
Hell, she’d barely thought about Travis...
Alaina didn’t know Elsie felt weird about Hunter. Alaina wanted to hear about the time spent with Hunter because she was hungry for any and all information she could possibly get about him.
Because she liked him.
Elsie refused to think that Alaina loved him, because whatever she thought, Elsie knew that she didn’t.
She didn’t know Hunter well enough to...to love him. She might know him, but she didn’t know him.
Not like Elsie did.
“Oh, uh, I think we’re leaning toward buying the horses,” she said.