wished she hadn’t because smiling pulled the skin tight around her lips, which were overly sensitive thanks to Scott’s kiss.
Stephanie had a close-up view of that skin because she came forward and gave her a hug. That was the thing about Stephanie, no matter how nosy and annoying she was, you just had to love her. She gave the best darn hugs.
“Why haven’t you been by to visit?” she asked upon drawing back, her green eyes darting from Amanda’s eyes, to Scott, then back again.
“Oh, you know. So many men, so little time.”
Stephanie lifted her brow, looking back at Scott.
“I meant bulls, Stephanie, not human men.”
Stephanie giggled. Amanda tried not to wince.
“Who’s this?”
Amanda didn’t want to do it. She really didn’t, but she had no choice but to turn back to Scott, who was holding the reins of the horse she’d abandoned, and said, “Stephanie, this is Scott Beringer.”
Of course, Stephanie had likely already known that. There’d probably been a APB put out the moment his helicopter had landed. See, that was the thing. Everyone knew everyone’s business, but the trick was to act as if you didn’t know the other person’s business.
Stephanie echoed, “Scott Beringer,” in a gushing voice. “The Scott Beringer?”
“Yes, Stephanie,” Amanda said. “The Scott Beringer.” And something about the way Stephanie stared at Scott, as if he were God’s gift to Stephanie’s pet charities—of which there were many—made Amanda say, “You know, corporate raider. Company downsizer. Robber baron.” Which made Scott and Stephanie both swing their gazes around to her, Scott going so far as to lift his brows. Amanda felt her face color like a barbecue with lighter fluid squirted on top.
“Just kidding,” she said, because it wasn’t like her to be so mean spirited. Man, he’d really rattled her with his kiss.
Stephanie, however, was oblivious to the sexual undercurrents going around. “It’s so nice to meet you, Mr. Beringer,” she said. “I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you.”
Which made Amanda’s own brows lift. She had? From whom?
“Amanda, you should have told me Mr. Beringer was a personal friend of yours.”
Personal friend? Hah. As if. But Amanda didn’t contradict her, because if there was a chance Stephanie didn’t know about Scott stealing her father’s ranch out from under them, Amanda wasn’t going to enlighten her.
Then Scott came forward, or at least he tried to. He didn’t know anything about horses, Amanda suddenly recalled, because he walked forward as if Fancy—the horse Amanda had abandoned in her kissed-senseless daze—would automatically follow, which she didn’t, and Scott got jerked back to the point he almost fell backward when the reins grew taut.
He recovered quickly, stopping, shooting Fancy a dogmeat look before smiling at Stephanie and saying, “Nice to meet you, Ms. Prichart.”
“Oh, it’s Stephanie,” she trilled. “Call me Stephanie.”
“And you can call me Scott.”
“Scott,” Stephanie corrected, the two smiling at each other as if they were members of a mutual admiration society.
“Did you want to come inside, Stephanie?” Amanda asked. “I was just about to make breakfast.”
“Are you in town to escort Amanda to the barn dance tomorrow night?” Stephanie asked as if she hadn’t heard her. But Amanda knew she had. What was more, Amanda knew the question was a ploy to lead the conversation toward said barn dance.
“Stephanie, no—”
“Barn dance?” Scott asked, his brows lifting again.
Amanda almost groaned. She almost grabbed the well-meaning Stephanie by the arm and dragged her inside. But she couldn’t. Not without being a wee bit obvious. And not without Scott realizing she didn’t want Stephanie to talk about the barn dance, which in turn meant Scott knowing about it. Which in turn would indicate that she was scared he’d come to it. Which would make her seem a coward—
“Yeah,” Stephanie said brightly. “A barn dance. It’s tomorrow, at the Los Molina Hall. Everyone’s invited. The whole town usually comes, even the kids.”
“Stephanie, I’m sure Scott doesn’t want to go to our little get-together.”
“Actually, I do.”
Which made Amanda groan. Inwardly, of course.
“Great,” Stephanie said. “There’s a silent auction. And it’s a potluck, but I’m sure Amanda was planning to bring something, weren’t you, Amanda.”
“Actually, I’m not sure I can go—”
“Of course you can, Amanda. Why you just told me last night that you were going. Don’t tell me you changed your mind because you have a houseguest; not when he can come, too.”
Scott had to admit, Amanda didn’t look like she wanted to go, but she would. He’d make sure of it. Heck, he’d never been to a barn dance before. He’d never been to any kind of dance. Well, he’d gone to charity balls, but not with any kind of date. This would be a first for him, even if his “date” didn’t look too terribly enthusiastic about the whole thing.
“What time does it start?” he asked Amanda’s friend.
“At eight.”
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