Honorable Rancher. Barbara Daille White

away from him, when she wanted to do just the opposite. When everything in her longed for—

      Laughter rippled around her. She sagged in relief, genuinely glad for the interruption that kept her from going down that mental road. She couldn’t go anywhere with Ben. Shouldn’t even think about him.

      Outside, alone with him in the moonlight, sitting beside him on that bench, she’d wanted just to close her eyes and lean against him and see what would happen next. But she couldn’t. Too many responsibilities and too many bad memories would keep her from ever relying on any man again.

      Especially Ben.

      As if she had called his name, he turned. Her breath caught. It wasn’t until he approached her that she realized the garter toss had ended.

      The music changed from the bouncy rhythm to a slower beat.

      “May I have this dance?” he asked. He stood so tall, she had to look up to see his dark eyes staring down at her.

      At the thought of stepping into his arms, her heart lurched. A dangerous road... A risky decision...

      Somehow, she had escaped having to dance with him at Sam and Kayla’s wedding the year before. She had managed to avoid that tonight, too. Until now. But they had an audience all around—all the folks from Flagman’s Folly—scrutinizing their every move.

      She blurted the only thing that came to mind. “Why not? We’re friends, aren’t we?”

      His expression solemn, he nodded and held out his hand.

      She couldn’t have refused his invitation. Couldn’t have turned him down. And he knew it. Of course, the matron of honor would dance with the ushers, too.

      Why was she trying to kid herself? She wouldn’t have turned Ben away at all.

      But she should have.

      He took her hand and settled his free arm around her waist, holding her in a light but steady embrace. As he led her expertly around the crowded floor, she tried desperately to focus on her movements. One trip over her own feet, and she’d make a fool of herself. One slip on this dance floor, and she’d wind up even closer to him than she stood now.

      If that were possible.

      She was nearly nestled against him. Her head swam, and she strained to keep her focus on the lapel of his dark tuxedo. She would not look up at him. She would not meet his eyes. She was too afraid of what he would read in hers.

      There were other senses besides sight, though.

      His warmth enveloped her, relaxing her even as it made her heart beat triple-time.

      Loving the scent of his spicy aftershave, she inhaled deeply...and caught herself just as her eyelids began to close. Wouldn’t that have made a pretty picture for all the wedding guests to see!

      She shifted slightly in his arms. Her hand brushed the edge of his collar, her fingertip catching the faint sandpaper prickle of five-o’clock shadow on his neck. A shiver ran through her.

      “You okay?” he murmured, tilting his head down.

      “Fine,” she whispered. So many uses for that one little word. So many lies.

      He moved his arm from around her waist and rested his hand flat against her back. His thumb grazed the skin left exposed by her gown. For a moment, she felt sure he’d done it deliberately.

      Silly wishful thinking. Yet she had to swallow hard against the small, strangled sound that had risen to the back of her throat. She should have turned him down.

      No matter how much she longed for him to hold her.

      The musicians brought the song to an end. With a sigh of relief, she dropped her arms and stepped back. Instantly, she missed his warmth.

      “Thank you for the dance,” he said.

      Reluctantly she looked up, more unwilling than ever to meet his eyes. Instead, she focused on his mouth. On any other man she might have taken the curve of those lips as a complacent smile. Or even a self-satisfied smirk.

      Not on Ben.

      “Thank you, too,” she murmured. She saw Tess approaching and turned to her.

      “Dana, didn’t you say P.J. and Stacey are staying with Anne all night?”

      “Yes.” The casual question helped clear her head. She had made special arrangements with her babysitter. “Anne’s keeping them at her house, since I knew Lissa and I would get home so late.”

      “Good. But Lissa’s now staying at the Whistlestop with Nate.”

      Dana frowned. Tess’s mother had turned their family home into a bed-and-breakfast inn a couple of years earlier. Lissa spent the night at the Whistlestop Inn as often as Nate stayed at their house. But... “Roselynn doesn’t need an extra—”

      “No buts, please. I checked with Mom first.” Tess leaned toward them and continued in a lower voice, “Nate’s having a hard time adjusting to us going away. I invited Lissa.”

      “In that case, then, of course.”

      “Great.” Tess turned to Ben. “We’ve had to do some rearranging and the limo’s now overflowing. You won’t mind taking Dana back to town, will you?”

      “Of course not.”

      “But—” Dana started.

      “Gotta run,” Tess interrupted. Again. “Caleb’s waiting.” She turned away, her gown swirling behind her.

      “I can find another ride—”

      “No need,” Ben said.

      He closed his fingers around her elbow as if she planned to hurry after Tess. She did. “Duty calls,” she said, tugging her arm free. “After all, I’m Tess’s matron of honor tonight.”

      “No problem,” he said easily. “I’ll be waiting for you when it’s time to go.”

      A few quick steps, and she’d left him behind. If only she could have left her own treacherous thoughts on the dance floor, too. On the long ride to Flagman’s Folly in the quiet darkness of his truck, she’d better put those thoughts out of her mind. Or even safer, put herself to sleep. Then she wouldn’t be tempted to think...to say...to do...anything she’d regret.

      Silly to worry about that. What harm could come from a simple ride home with him?

      Good old, dependable Ben. She could count on him to be there for her. To be her friend, always. To never do anything inappropriate.

      It was enough to break her heart.

      * * *

      A RED GLEAM FROM THE ROAD up ahead caught Ben’s eye. The headlamps of his pickup truck reflected off the taillights of a vehicle pulled to one side of the road.

      “Ben,” Dana said, her voice tight with concern.

      “Nothing to worry about.” Even if he hadn’t seen the car days ago, he’d have realized that. The coating of yellow dust from bumper to bumper and the dingy handkerchief hanging from the antenna told him it had sat there for a while. “I noticed it when I came this way last week.”

      No need to check for anyone stranded inside the vehicle. Still, habits died hard. He slowed for a look as he drove past. Around here, with towns few and far apart and where the sun parched everything it touched, folks kept an eye out for others.

      Just as he watched over Dana.

      “I’m surprised you didn’t notice it before tonight,” he added. “You’re on the road often enough.”

      “Not lately.” She sounded irritated.

      “In fact, that could’ve easily been your van broken down back there. And what would you have done by yourself?”

      “Called for a tow truck, of