Texas Brides: The Rancher and the Runaway Bride & The Bluest Eyes in Texas. Joan Johnston

way to get what he wanted.

      Bringing Velma to the dance seemed like the answer to his problem. He was pretty sure Velma was as much in love with Buck as the cowboy was with his ex-wife. He didn’t mind playing Cupid, especially if it meant separating Tate from the virile young cowboy.

      “How about trading partners?” Adam said, rising from his chair and reaching for Tate’s hand.

      Before Tate could protest, Buck said, “That sounds fine to me,” took Velma by the hand and headed for the dance floor.

      Tate wasn’t sure what to make of Adam’s ploy. She waited until they were half a dance floor away from the other couple before she said, “That was a pretty sneaky thing to do.”

      “I wanted to dance with you.”

      “Are you sure you aren’t matchmaking?”

      Adam smiled. “You could feel it, too?”

      “I think he might still love her.”

      “I’m sure he does.”

      “Then why did you bring Velma here tonight?”

      “I would think that’s obvious.”

      “Not to me.”

      “I enjoy her company.”

      “Oh.”

      He grinned. “And I knew Buck would be here with you.”

      He sent her into a series of spins that prevented her from making any kind of retort. By the time she was in his arms again the song was over and he was ushering her back toward their table, where Buck and Velma were sitting across from each other arguing vociferously.

      “Buck?” Tate didn’t want to interrupt, but she wasn’t sure whether she should leave him alone with Velma, either.

      “Let’s get out of here,” Buck said, jumping up and turning his back on Velma. “Good night, Adam. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

      As Buck hurried Tate away, she heard Velma say, “I’d like to go home now, Adam. If that’s all right with you?”

      Tate wasn’t sure where Buck was taking her when he burned rubber on the asphalt parking lot. It was a safe guess from the dark look on his face that he had no romantic intentions toward her.

      “Want to talk about it?” she asked at last.

      Buck glanced quickly at her, then turned his eyes back to the road. “I don’t want to bother you with my problems.”

      “I’m a good listener.”

      He sighed and said, “Velma and I were high school sweethearts. We married as soon as we graduated. Pretty soon Velma began to think she had missed something. She had an affair.”

      Tate bit her lip to keep from saying something judgmental. She was glad she had when Buck continued.

      “I found out about it and confronted her. She asked for a divorce, and I gave it to her.”

      “Why?”

      “Pride. Foolish damn pride!”

      “And you regret it now?”

      “My life’s been running kind of muddy without her.”

      “So why don’t you do something about it?” Tate asked.

      “It’s no use. She says that I deserve better. She doesn’t believe I can ever forgive or forget what she did.”

      “Can you?”

      The cowboy’s eyes were bleak in the light from the dash. “I think so.”

      “But you’re not sure?”

      A muscle worked in his jaw. “If I were, I’d have her back home and under me faster than chain lightning with a link snapped!”

      Tate had thought they were driving without direction, yet she realized suddenly that they had arrived back at the front door of Adam’s house. She saw Adam’s truck parked there. So, he was home. And there was a light on in the living room.

      She let herself out of the truck, but Buck met her on the front porch. He put an arm around her waist and walked her away from the light.

      “May I kiss you good-night, Tate?”

      Tate drew a breath and held it. This was so exactly like the scene she had played out the night she had left home that it was eerie. Only there were no brothers here to protect her from the big, bad wolf.

      “Of course you can kiss me good-night,” she said at last.

      Buck took his time, and Tate was aware of the sweetness of his kiss. And the reluctance in it. When he lifted his head their eyes met, and they smiled at each other.

      “No go, huh?” he said.

      Tate shook her head. “I like you an awful lot, Buck. I hope we can be friends.”

      “I’d like that,” the cowboy said.

      He leaned down and kissed her again. Both of them knew how much—and how little—it meant.

      However, it was not so clear to the man watching them through a slit in the living room curtains.