was leave him. “What about my coffee?”
“That was just an excuse and we both know it.”
Rorie said nothing.
The silence between them seemed to throb for endless minutes.
“Good night, Clay,” she finally whispered. She broke away, but his hand caught her fingers, and with a groan he pulled her back into his arms.
“What the hell,” he muttered fiercely, “sending you upstairs isn’t going to help. Nothing’s going to change.”
His words brought confusion, but Rorie didn’t question him, didn’t want to. What she longed for was the warmth and security she’d discovered in his arms.
“Come on,” he whispered, after he’d kissed her once more. He led her through the living room and outside to the porch, where the swing moved gently in the night breeze.
Rorie sat beside him and he wrapped his arm around her. She nestled her head against his shoulder, savoring these precious moments.
“I’ll never forget this night.”
“Neither will I,” Clay promised, kissing her again.
* * *
Rorie awoke when the sun settled on her face and refused to leave her alone. Keeping her eyes closed, she smiled contentedly, basking in the memory of her night with Clay. They’d sat on the swing and talked for hours. Talked and kissed and laughed and touched...
Sitting up, Rorie raised her hands high above her head and stretched, arching her spine. She looked at her watch on the nightstand and was shocked to see that it was after eleven. By the time she’d climbed the stairs for bed the sky had been dappled with faint shreds of light. She suspected Clay hadn’t even bothered to sleep.
Tossing aside the blankets, Rorie slid to the floor, anxious to shower and dress. Anxious to see him again. Fifteen minutes later, she was on her way down the stairs.
Mary, who was dusting in the living room, nodded when she saw Rorie. Then the housekeeper resumed her task, but not before she’d muttered something about how city folks were prone to sleeping their lives away.
“Good morning, Mary,” Rorie greeted her cheerfully.
“’Mornin’.”
“Where is everyone?”
“Where they ought to be this time of day. Working.”
“Yes, I know, but where?”
“Outside.”
Rorie had trouble hiding her smile.
“I heard about you helping last night,” Mary added gruffly. “Seems you did all right for a city girl.”
“Thank you, Mary. You don’t do half bad for a country girl, either.”
The housekeeper seemed uncomfortable with the praise, despite the lightness of Rorie’s tone. “I suppose you want me to cook you some fancy breakfast.”
“Good heavens, no, you’re busy. I’ll just make myself some toast.”
“That’s hardly enough to fill a growing girl,” Mary complained.
“It’ll suit me fine.”
Once her toast was ready, Rorie carried it outside. If she couldn’t find Clay, she wanted to check on Nightsong.
“Rorie.”
She turned to discover Skip walking toward her, in animated conversation with a blonde. His girlfriend, she guessed. He waved and Rorie returned the gesture, smiling. The sun was glorious and the day held marvelous promise.
“I didn’t think you were ever going to wake up,” Skip said.
“I’m sorry—I don’t usually sleep this late.”
“Clay told me how you helped him deliver Star Bright’s filly. You could’ve knocked me over with a feather when I heard.”
Rorie nodded, her heart warming with the memory. “Well, I tried to get you up. It would’ve been easier to wake a dead man than to get you out of bed last night.”
Skip looked slightly embarrassed. “Sorry about that, but I generally don’t wake up too easily once I’m asleep.” As he spoke, he slipped his arm around the blonde girl’s shoulders. “Rorie, I want you to meet Kate Logan.”
“Hello, Kate.” Rorie held out a hand and Kate shook it politely.
“Hello, Rorie,” she said. “Clay and Skip told me about your car troubles. I hope everything turns out all right for you.”
“I’m sure it will. Do you live around here?” Rorie already knew she was going to like her. At a closer glance, she saw that Kate was older than she’d first assumed. Maybe her own age, which gave credence to Skip’s comment about liking older, more mature women.
“I don’t live far,” Kate said. “The Circle L is down the road, only a few miles from here.”
“She’s going to be living with us in the near future,” Skip put in, gazing fondly at Kate.
The young woman’s cheeks reddened and she smiled shyly.
“Oh?” Skip couldn’t possibly mean he planned to marry her, Rorie thought. Good heavens, he was still in high school.
He must have seen Rorie’s puzzled frown, and hurried to explain. “Not me,” he said with a short laugh. “Kate is Clay’s fiancée.”
“You and Clay are...engaged,” Rorie murmured as shock waves coursed through her blood. They stopped with a thud at her heart and spread out in ripples of dismay.
Somehow Rorie managed a smile, her outward composure unbroken. She was even able to offer her congratulations. To all appearances, nothing was wrong. No one would’ve known that those few simple words had destroyed a night she’d planned to treasure all her life.
“I hope you and Clay will be very happy,” Rorie said—and she meant it. She’d just been introduced to Kate Logan, but already Rorie knew that this sweet, friendly woman was exactly the kind of wife a man like Clay would need.
“Skip’s rushing things a little,” Kate pointed out, but the glint of love in her eyes contradicted her words. “Clay hasn’t even given me an engagement ring yet.”
“But you and Clay have been talking about getting married, haven’t you?” Skip pressed. “And you’re crazy about him.”
Kate blushed prettily. “I’ve loved Clay from the time I was in fifth grade. I wrote his name all over my books. Of course, Clay wouldn’t have anything to do with me, not when he was a big important high-schooler and I was just the pesky little girl next door. It took a while for him to notice me—like ten years.” She gave a small laugh. “We’ve been dating steadily for the past two.”
“But you and Clay are going to get married, right?” Skip continued, clearly wanting to prove his point.
“Eventually, but we haven’t set a date, although I’m sure it’ll be soon,” Kate answered, casting a sharp look at Rorie.
The tightness that had gripped Rorie’s throat eased and she struggled to keep her smile intact. It was impossible not to like Kate, but that didn’t lessen the ache in Rorie’s heart.
“The wedding’s inevitable,” Skip said offhandedly, “so I wasn’t exaggerating when I said you were Clay’s fiancée, now was I?”
Kate smiled. “I suppose not. We love each other, and have for years. We’re just waiting for the right time.” Her eyes held Rorie’s, assessing her, but she didn’t seem worried about competition.
Rorie