Cedar Cove Collection. Debbie Macomber

up to claim a dance, she nearly protested that she was ready to sit one out. But that would mean he’d escort her to the rows of chairs and stay with her. Linnette would rather endure another session of trampled toes than have Pete lean over to some stranger and expose another tidbit of her personal life.

      Unexpectedly, Pete turned out to be an accomplished dancer. Not once did he come even close to stepping on her feet. More unexpected yet—during the entire dance he didn’t say a word.

      With his jaw resting against her temple, he expertly whirled her about the room with moves Arthur Murray himself would’ve approved. They might have been on a ballroom floor in New York City instead of a sawdust-covered Grange Hall on the prairies.

      When the music ended, Pete released her with a brief bow. She blinked, viewing him with fresh eyes.

      “Where did you learn to dance like that?” she asked. After all, the man was a farmer.

      “College,” Pete said, obviously somewhat chagrined. “The dance class passed for a physical education elective, and I figured it was an easy A.” He gave her a wry smile. “I was wrong. I’ve never worked harder for a grade in my life.”

      By unspoken agreement, they walked off the floor and over to the chairs. He sat down next to her and suddenly they were both ill-at-ease.

      “What I wouldn’t give for another tornado,” he mumbled.

      Linnette looked at him in shock. “I beg your pardon?”

      “Nothing.” He stared straight ahead.

      So did Linnette, until she saw her three earnest beaux heading in her direction. Her toes curled up in the fancy borrowed cowboy boots. If she danced with any of those cowboys again, she’d be lucky if she could walk by the end of the evening.

      Before DeWayne could reach her, Pete stood. Clasping her hand, he led her back onto the dance floor.

      “My hero,” Linnette whispered and felt his smile as he drew her into his arms. It was a slow dance, and she could hardly believe how well they synchronized their steps, almost as if they’d been partners many times over.

      “I’m waiting,” she said as the music wound down.

      “For what?”

      “Some remark intended to embarrass me.”

      Pete nearly missed a step. “Yeah, well, I could see that wasn’t working.”

      “Working?” she repeated.

      “Never mind.”

      She frowned at him. “I don’t understand.”

      He cleared his throat. “Are you leaving Buffalo Valley anytime soon? Because if you are, I’d prefer to hear about it now.”

      The question startled her. The musicians declared another break, and they walked back to the seats they’d previously occupied. When they were both sitting, Linnette turned to ask him, “Why should you care if I stay or if I go?”

      Pete folded his arms and glared at the floor. “Are you planning to leave Buffalo Valley?”

      “Do you want me to?”

      His eyes flared wide. “No.”

      “What makes you think I’m going to leave?”

      He shrugged. “I don’t know. I figured a city girl like you probably wouldn’t stick around for long.”

      This conversation was starting to get interesting. “Why do you want me to stay?” she asked. “If that’s what you’re saying.”

      He stared back at her as though he resented the question. “Have you noticed how many times I’ve come into town in the last two months? We’ve got an excellent cook out at the farmhouse, and my brother and I eat real well. The food at home is just as tasty as Buffalo Bob’s. Maybe tastier.”

      In other words, Pete was telling her he’d driven into town because of her.

      “You never asked me out,” Linnette reminded him.

      “With good reason.”

      “Oh?”

      He nodded. “I seem to remember you telling me you’ve got a broken heart.” He expelled his breath, then uncrossed his arms. “I figured you needed time to get over this other guy.”

      “Oh … kay.”

      “Why do you think I’ve been coming to Buffalo Valley so often? It’s an hour’s drive each way!”

      “I’m not a mind reader, Pete.”

      “I had to make sure no one else was showing any interest in you.”

      Linnette nearly swallowed her tongue. “What did you just say?”

      He blinked. “Was that insulting? My brother, Josh, says I’ll never convince a woman to marry me because I don’t know when to keep my mouth shut.”

      “So you’re looking for a wife?” This put a whole new twist on their conversation—and on his behavior. Although if he wanted to get married, he was going about it in an odd way.

      “I’m not proposing,” he said quickly.

      “Good.”

      He frowned. “Good?”

      “Well, yes. I’m not even thinking about marriage.”

      Pete leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “So I’m wasting my time?”

      “That depends,” Linnette murmured.

      He glanced over at her. “Depends on what?”

      “On whom.”

      “Okay,” Pete said, “that’s fair. Can I ask you something?”

      “Ask away.” Linnette crossed her legs and swung one foot to the rhythm of the music.

      “What are my chances? Just tell me flat-out so I can save myself the time, effort and expense of driving back and forth. Not to mention making a fool of myself,” he added in a low voice.

      Linnette thought about his question. “I can’t really say. It would help if I knew more about you.”

      He nodded. “That’s fair,” he said again. He paused, taking an audible breath. “I run a farm with my brother. Josh isn’t married, either.” His eyes narrowed and he gave her an appraising look. “I don’t suppose you have any unmarried friends who’d be interested in moving here?” As soon as the words were out, he seemed to regret having asked. “Never mind. It worked once, but I don’t think history’s going to repeat itself.”

      “What?”

      “Eight or nine years ago, Lindsay Snyder moved to town—”

      “I’ve met Lindsay,” she put in.

      “Well, her friend Maddy Washburn followed, and they married local men, so … Where was I?”

      Linnette froze. “Did you say Washburn?”

      “Yes.”

      “Oh.” It seemed Cal was destined to haunt her, no matter where she went.

      “She married Jeb McKenna.”

      She and Maddy had become friends; Maddy was the person she’d been planning to visit the day of the tornado. And Washburn was her maiden name. Life was full of such ironies, she supposed.

      She saw Maddy—no longer a Washburn—and Lindsay Sinclair across the room, and the three of them exchanged waves. She turned back to Pete.

      He seemed a bit flustered, so Linnette prompted him. “You were going to tell me about yourself.”

      “Right.” Pete sat up a bit straighter. “I’m a farmer, just like my father and grandfather,