Chapter Two
Dana
D ana hadn’t planned on attending the street dance but sitting alone in her trailer on the last night of the rodeo, cleaning her gear and drinking a bottle of wine, had turned out to be about as much fun as it sounded.
When had she turned into such an old woman? When had the joy been sucked from her life? She was barely twenty-eight, not eighty. She used to love parties. She’d loved concerts and dances and bars. She’d loved the crush of people pushing the limits of fire regulations. More than anything, she’d loved the anonymity of being nothing more than one more face in the crowd. Seeing Levi Harrington had brought back memories of those better days, when life had been simpler and all about fun, and people had paid more attention to Tanner than to her.
She set her empty glass on the small, fold-down table with a thud. She was tired of her own company. She was tired of dwelling on things that couldn’t be changed. And she was damned tired of pity. Maybe, if she made it clear to the world that she wasn’t mourning for Tanner, they’d get tired of watching her every move. Pull up those panties and be a big girl.
The decision was made. She snapped the lid on the saddle soap, capped what remained of the bottle of wine, dug out a dress and a cute pair of boots, fixed her hair and her face, and headed into the night.
Bremner was a dinky little dust bowl on the pro rodeo circuit whose main claim to fame was its history as a nineteenth-century trading post for miners prospecting in the mountains nearby. Because it wasn’t too far from the Canadian border, Dana had signed up for the rodeo on her way home from the Calgary Stampede. She was in desperate need of the points today’s sizeable prize money would have brought her. Since that hadn’t panned out, she’d have to add two more pro rodeos to her schedule to make up the difference.
The town’s one main street had been closed off for the night, so the dance wasn’t difficult to find, and the local country band was surprisingly good. Music pulsed, flowing like an invisible river of sound over the crowd, ramping up the already high mood. Strings of light supported by streetlamps lit up the blue and gold of descending night. Rain earlier on in the day had left the air clean and clear. Asphalt retained the warmth of the sun. Ambient heat licked Dana’s bare limbs.
She saw none of her usual rodeo companions—they might still be at dinner. They might have found entertainment elsewhere for the evening. They might be packing their gear so they could make an early start in the morning. It didn’t matter. She swayed to the music, ignoring the stares and the whispers, content to dance by herself so long as she wasn’t alone.
A man—she couldn’t have said if she knew him or not—bumped up against her. She ignored him. She wasn’t here for a hookup. Not in this crowd. She was here to confirm that she was alive.
Someone pressed a cold, sweating bottle of beer into her hand. Dana didn’t normally drink much in public anymore, because she disliked the loss of control, but the music was good, and she retained a bit of the buzz from the wine, so figured, what the hell. Just this once. She was entitled to cut loose now and then, the same as everyone else.
She chugged down half the bottle. The alcohol landed in her stomach on top of the two glasses of wine she’d already consumed, reminding her that she’d skipped supper and might want to slow down. She poured the remainder of the beer on a patch of grass in front of a building and stashed the bottle in one of the cartons set up for the empties, then plunged back into the middle of the crowd.
She spied Levi Harrington, leaning against a post on the outer edge of the action. She’d been rude to him earlier. She couldn’t recall why. Oh, yes. He’d pointed out Lady’s weakness, as if she hadn’t already known about her arthritis, and she’d felt judged. Truthfully, however, she’d probably been rude to him because he’d been a close friend of Tanner’s. Someone Tanner admired, and who’d admired Tanner, too.
She was sick to death of all the admiration for Tanner. It had become hers by default and she didn’t want it. But all Levi had done was express concern for her horse, and she shouldn’t have been rude. She’d apologize to him for it, then she’d return to her camper and call it a night.
The music was too loud now, and it made her head spin so that she could no longer move in sync with the beat, and the path to where she’d last spotted Levi’s blond head wasn’t as direct as she’d thought. People kept stopping her, wanting to talk, and she had no idea what they were saying to her, which freaked her out. By the time she got to where she’d last seen him, he was no longer there.
What a disappointment. She’d always liked Levi. He was handsome and smart and had adorable dimples to offset those too-serious blue eyes. When he didn’t shave, his chin stubble came in scruffy and red. Tanner used to be jealous of the way Levi looked at her, which was ridiculous, because Levi was too straitlaced and loyal to ever look at a friend’s girlfriend with anything other than the utmost respect.
Also, in fairness to Levi, Tanner had been jealous in general. They’d first gotten together because the sex was incredibly hot, but his growing insecurity had become a huge problem for her.
She was more drunk than she’d thought. If her brain continued to ride that train of thought she might burst into tears, and she couldn’t have that. She had to get back to her camper before people noticed.
But how did she get to her camper? She turned in a circle, completely lost and confused. Blood pulsed against the top of her head and her ribs bear-hugged her lungs.
An arm hooked her waist, bringing her circling to an abrupt halt. “Hey, beautiful,” a man said, his voice cheerful. Friendly. His face close to hers. “You look lost. Need some help?”
“I…”
I don’t know you , her brain finished for her, since her tongue wouldn’t form that many words. Her legs weren’t much help to her either, because they allowed him to turn her so that she matched his steps as if glued to his side, which she was. She blinked, and in an instant, the crowd and the lights had disappeared behind a brick wall, which also blunted the beat of the music.
And then Levi was there, blocking her path. She was so glad to see him that she had no words. The hot rush of relief, though…
She’d remember that later.
*
Levi
Levi cut them off behind the community co-op, on the footpath to the parking lot.
He’d seen Dana arrive at the dance, then lost track of her while he’d talked to a stock contractor intent on doing business with the Endeavour. Therefore, he couldn’t say for certain what was going on here.
Whatever it was, he didn’t like how it looked.
Because it looked as if Dana had gone from enjoying the music to being too drunk to stand in the span of less than a half hour, which wasn’t like her. She’d been a party girl, yes. But one with common sense. Not only could she hold her liquor, she knew when to stop.
He didn’t like the look of the guy who had his arm around her, holding her up, either. He didn’t have his full attention on her—rather, he kept a watchful eye on the people around them, as if expecting opposition. Or, just maybe, as if he were guarding his prey. He gave off that sort of vibe. Levi had never seen him before, which didn’t mean much, except he was good with faces and that lack of recognition was another red flag. If he was part of the rodeo, Levi would know.
The lot where the campers were set up was in the opposite direction of the parking lot and Bremner didn’t have a whole lot of motels. Levi was willing to bet that the one where he was staying was just about it. So—if reading the situation correctly, and he thought he did—this guy was likely a local. And likely not a Good Samaritan.
“Excuse us,” the man said, and tried to steer Dana around him.
“Not so fast.” Levi again stepped into his path. “The lady looks like she’s had enough dancing and should turn in for the night.”
“She’s with me. I’ll take good care of her.”
Sure. He believed that. “And who might you be?”
“None of your business. That’s who.”
“Dana,” Levi said, speaking directly to her. “Do you know this guy?”
She lifted her head. A swath of dark curls slid away from her cheek. The warm glow of a streetlight caught the baffled confusion in her eyes. The inability to focus.
“No.” Her voice sounded strong and decisive, even though her body sagged as if she were boneless.
Levi had some hard decisions to make. She wasn’t leaving with this man. That one was a no-brainer, since signs indicated she’d been drugged. But Dana didn’t like public attention, not outside of the arena, and while not busy, the parking lot wasn’t empty. No one had taken too much notice of them yet, but they were starting to look. He didn’t see how this could end without there being a scene. Pent-up rage rattled his ribs like the bars of a cage.
“This can go one of two ways,” he said, keeping his tone pleasant and his voice down on the off chance he might pull this off without violence. “You can leave her with me, and I’ll see she gets home, no questions asked. Or I can punch you in the face, the police will be called in, and you can explain this situation to them. To the event organizers too, because they know her pretty well. They’re going to have questions. They’ll likely call for a drug test. Either way, you leave empty-handed.”
“Go fuck yourself,” the guy said, but he released Dana, who would have slumped to the ground if Levi hadn’t caught her. Then, he walked off as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
Levi let him go, even though he would have preferred the face-punching option, but getting Dana out of here as quickly and quietly as possible was his more immediate mission.
The rage in his chest sat back on its heels. He considered a detour to the rodeo’s pop-up clinic—that would be the smartest move on his part, if only to confirm his suspicions—then decided against it. If she’d been slipped Rohypnol, or a similar drug, it would disappear from her system before she was alert enough to agree to a blood test, and she’d have to agree to one, because there were no obvious signs of assault. Thank you, Jesus, for that.
He could take her to her camper, but he didn’t know which one was hers, and he wasn’t about to ask for directions. He’d then have to stay with her, or find someone who could, in case the drug—if she’d been drugged—made her sick. The amount of alcohol required to put her in this condition sure as hell would. And him being seen creeping out of her camper before daylight wasn’t going to make her happy, either. The rodeo crowd talked.
They’d talked about her enough over the past couple of years.
She’d gone limp against him, but her breathing was steady, and he felt no tight muscles or other physical signs of distress. He sighed, made an executive decision, and stooped to slide one arm behind her knees while his shoulder supported her head. A waterfall of soft, sweet-smelling hair cascaded over his sleeve. Although she was slender, she was mostly muscle, and muscle was heavy. So was deadweight.
His truck was three rows away. He’d take her to his motel, monitor her condition overnight, and hopefully, return her in the morning before it was time for her to pack up her camper and horses and check out.
*
Dana
She was sick in the night.
Someone held her hair while she threw up in a small bathroom with a low toilet, and water-stained tile on the floor. Then they helped her to bed.
When she finally awoke, she had no idea where she was or how she’d gotten here, only that the bed was lumpy and sagged on one side, and the room was dim. A crack of exterior lighting glared through the gap between the drawn drapes. She’d been in enough motel rooms, however, to recognize one when she saw it.
She bolted upright, fear clawing her throat raw, and almost passed out from the fingers of pain digging into her skull. The pain faded and the dizziness passed, enough so that she could take stock.
She had her clothes on. Including her panties and bra. Thank God for that. She was alone in the double bed. Another small blessing. A shadowy shape slouched in a stuffed chair between the window and door. A man. Her pounding heart ramped up its pace. That last one could pose a problem. What, exactly, had happened last night? Her headache forced her to abandon any attempts to recall.
She’d worry about it later. Her immediate problem was to get out of here without waking whoever slept in that chair. The digital clock next to the bed proclaimed it not quite 5:30 a.m. Carefully, slowly, she drew back the blankets and swung her bare feet to the floor. She didn’t know where her boots were, and she didn’t care. They were a small price to pay in the grand scheme of things.
She tiptoed across a thin carpet that felt none too clean under the balls of her feet. She didn’t think she’d taken her purse with her when she’d left her camper to go to the dance.
The dance. She couldn’t imagine what had possessed her. Had loneliness and a fizzling career reduced her to this ? To drinking too much, then heading to a motel with a stranger?
She reached for the doorknob. The stranger stirred in the chair and her hand froze to the cool steel. Fear choked the breath from her lungs. She dared to dart a glance at him. Pale gold leaked between the curtains and limned the lines of his face.
Her fear morphed to confusion. Levi. She would never have believed him capable of taking advantage of any woman, sober or drunk. The fact she had her clothes on swore that he hadn’t, but the fact she’d spent the night in a motel room with him was also going to take some explaining. This wouldn’t be the first time she’d badly misjudged a man.
Her headache. Her raw throat and aching stomach. All forgotten. She stalked to his chair and kicked his shin with her bare foot. Not hard. Just hard enough to get his attention.
He awoke with limbs flailing, tried to rise, and caught one sock-clad toe on a leg of the chair. He grabbed the chair’s padded arm to steady himself, but his weight knocked it over. The chair crashed to the floor, its wooden legs rocking back and forth. Someone in the next room banged on the thin wall.
Dana fumbled for the switch next to the door. Light filled the room. Tousled blond hair stuck out in several directions. Red shadowed his cheeks, chin, and jaw. Sleepy blue eyes blinked at her.
He’d held her hair while she’d been sick. The foggy memory dredged up a sense of helplessness and violation that further enraged her. “What happened last night?” she demanded.
“Not what you seem to think.” The sleepiness cleared from his eyes. His gaze narrowed and sharpened. “What’s the last thing you remember?”
Nothing.
She pressed fingertips to her eye sockets and said the first thing that popped into her head. “You.”
“Me?” He sounded surprised.
She’d gone looking for him. She’d been rude to him earlier and planned to apologize. Things got a bit patchy after that. She remembered him appearing out of nowhere and how happy she’d been to see him. How relieved. “ Dana, do you know this guy? ”
Her leg muscles rebelled. She crumpled onto the edge of the droopy bed, dropped her throbbing head in her hands, and gathered her skittish thoughts. She hated feeling afraid. It made her angry—with herself and the world. Levi had been Tanner’s best friend. He’d never been anything but polite and respectful to her. A complete gentleman. He was hardly the type of man to take advantage of a woman when she was drunk.
Now would be a good time to offer up that apology she owed him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I had more to drink than I thought. Last night is a blur.” She tried to smile but embarrassment held her lips captive. How many people had seen her make a drunken spectacle of herself?
He waved the apology aside. He didn’t smile it off though, and his dark expression seemed so out of place. He righted the chair and parked it in front of her. When he sat, their knees almost touched. He dipped his head and studied her face. “Walk me through it. How much did you have to drink?”
“Two glasses of wine.”
“How much wine?”
“Maybe half the bottle? No more than that.” Maybe a teensy bit more. Maybe two thirds of the bottle.
He kept barking questions at her. “Who gave you the wine? Where were you when you drank it?”
“In my camper. No one gave it to me.” She preferred to drink alone. So what? There was no crime in that. She wasn’t on trial. And yet, she began to feel judged.
He frowned. “That’s it? That’s all you drank?”
“I had half a beer at the dance. I poured the rest of it out.”
“Where did you get the beer? Did you take it with you?”
This was where her memory grew hazy. “No. Someone gave it to me.”
“Who?”
Her headache increased. She lowered her eyes. She didn’t like where this conversation was headed. “I don’t know. I didn’t see them.”
“Did you open the bottle yourself?”
Had she? She didn’t think so. “I’m not sure.”
She no longer wanted to know what had happened last night. She could fill in the blanks easily enough. She’d been stupid and Levi had saved her. She should be grateful to him, but she was far too embarrassed.
“I have a headache. You’re asking too many questions.” She checked the hour on the clock. “Would you mind driving me back to the campground? I need to get to the stable and take care of my horses.”
He was quiet, as if trying to decide whether he was done with his interrogation. “Alright.”
She made a trip to the bathroom and tried not to look too closely at the pale face chastising her and her bad attitude in the mirror. She rinsed her mouth with a swig of mouthwash from a small plastic bottle standing next to the chipped sink.
He found her boots for her. The sun poked its sleepy head through the mountains and stared at them in surprise as they drove from the outskirts on one side of Bremner to the other. The trip took no more than five minutes, but already, the campground was stirring.
Levi pulled up a discreet distance from the campground, but not so far that she’d have more than a few minutes’ hike. Dana hopped out of the truck almost before it rolled to a stop.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Don’t take any more drinks from strangers.”
She slammed the truck door on him and his advice. She’d wanted one night to cut loose. To not be Lady Dana, the bull rider’s tragic widow. To not have all eyes on her. To be anonymous outside of the arena.
Look how that had ended for her.
She held her head high on the walk of shame to her camper, her head throbbing with every step, ignoring her neighbors’ curiosity. She was a grown woman. She could spend the night with whomever she pleased. Her mistakes weren’t their business.
And while she was grateful to Levi, they weren’t his business either.