Chapter 21
CADE
Noelle stood at the main window, staring over the porch, but seemingly far away. Two routine days had passed since she learned Sarah and Thomas would be coming, and her quietude increased with each hour. Tension hummed through her shoulders.
Outside, a bluebird sky stretched from horizon to horizon, filled with fluffy clouds and cold that breathed ice. Cody and Wyatt had gone into town to visit some friends, and I’d just returned from the barn.
I paused in the hallway, watching her. Her beauty would captivate any man, but there was something about her selfless disregard that drew me closer; the way she clucked over Cody and Wyatt in the mornings, and quietly put to rights an old and creaky house.
She was a magnet, and I her mate.
I just . . . didn’t know how to tell her. Three weeks had passed since I met her in the airport and helped her onto the plane, yet it felt like eternities.
She spun, probably sensing my heavy stare.
Seeing me, she smiled, and that brightness was the last straw to my crumbling resolve.
The plan to keep things distant and easy for her dissolved.
She had a newborn to keep alive, a sister to grieve, a life to cobble together, and an impending invasion of her privacy from Lily’s paternal grandparents.
The last thing she needed was a rancher pawing over her.
Yet, I’d staked a claim.
“Hey, Cade.”
“Hey.”
“I finished sorting through the downstairs living room.” Triumph firmed her voice as she swept her hands toward boxes stacked in the corner. “That will all go to donation, and the garbage bags are bundled up on the porch.”
“That has to feel good.”
Her forehead wrinkled. “Yes, I think so. I started on my old bedroom, too. There wasn’t as much, but I couldn’t move the bed and mattress by myself.”
“The boys can get it.”
She chuckled. “They’re busy enough!”
Unable to stop myself, and driven by the memory of holding her hand in the truck two days ago, I closed the space between us. I stopped short of touching her.
“Noelle, will you go on a date with me tonight?”
Surprise touched her gaze. She peered at me, dust on the collar of her flannel shirt, and curiosity in her eyes.
“A date?”
“Dancing,” I tacked on, for good measure.
Cora and I used to go dancing when she was in high school, and it had been years since I returned.
For a while, I held a legendary status in this town and several others.
Women came from all over so I could fling them around and across the dance floor.
I could twirl anyone through that dusty arena and make them breathless, starry-eyed.
Before responsibilities piled up, and a failing ranch fell into my hands.
Noelle’s lips parted with what looked like a shot of surprise and joy, but dimmed as quickly, like she remembered something.
“I would love to. But—”
“I’ll see if Dagny can watch Lily, or my sister Cora.
I know either of them would be happy to help.
We can go when Lily is already asleep, if you’re worried about it.
I just . . . I know you’re nervous about tomorrow, when the Millers arrive.
Maybe this would take your mind off of them. Even for a few minutes.”
The idea was a long shot. Noelle was trusting and wonderful, but I still hadn’t introduced her to Cora and Hawk yet.
She’d only met Dagny in passing, although she planned to attend Dagny’s book club in a few weeks.
I wouldn’t blame Noelle if she didn’t want to leave Lily with almost-strangers, even if I loved and trusted them.
Noelle glanced around, to the clock, and then the hallway. Determination stole across her features, and she nodded.
“Yes, Cade. I would love to go on a date with you.”
Noelle’s hands fidgeted with the bottom of her coat sleeve as she peered out the window.
The Dance-Hall-Slash-Bar parking lot was brimming with cars, and several people had parked along the road.
Headlights cut through the darkness, facing toward us, as we sat in the parking lot and peered out. I gave her a few minutes to take it in.
The Dance-Hall-Slash-Bar was more country bumpkin than it was a dance hall or bar, and the marrying of the two dichotomies wasn’t always pretty.
She had a careful nuance to her tone when she asked, “This is the place?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s named—”
“Dance-Hall-Slash-Bar.”
“That’s the actual name,” she mused with disbelief.
“Literal and figurative. It used to be called The Bar, but locals called it the dance-hall-slash-bar for a long time. When a new owner bought the property and renamed it, it stuck fast. Sort of a local legend, now. Doesn’t look like much on the outside, but you’ll see.
” I cranked open the door handle, paused, and said, “Don’t move. ”
Noelle blinked her big eyes at me while I slid out, crossed around, and pulled her door open. Her expression melted to understanding.
“Oh. The door?”
I nodded.
“Another facet of your Cowboy Code?”
Another nod, and I wanted to smack the men in her life upside the head. What good were men if they couldn’t even open a door for a lady? When a woman had to ask if something belonged in a gentleman’s code, the world had failed.
Breath plumed in front of her as she joined my side, clustering closer than I expected. I offered my arm. She took it, still thoroughly distracted by the country music pouring out. The heat of her hand in the crook of my elbow was a head-whirling drug. A cloud plumed in front of her when she spoke.
“It’s so . . .”
“Old?”
“Western.” Her lips twitched. “I was going to say western.”
I sagely said, “This is Wyoming, Noelle.”
“Never more so western than now.”
Her gaze continued to dart around as we ducked under a timber awning, and I reached for a handle that looked like a bear paw.
Time and grease had worn details away. The owner hadn’t bothered to repaint.
Most locals considered it part of the charm, but the older I got, the less charming it became. Sometimes, it was just nasty.
Inside, a teeming mass of bodies, blaring music, and the heady scent of sourdough bread awaited.
In the doorway, Noelle paused for so long that I set my fingertips on her shoulder to gesture her ahead. She advanced, a bemused half-smile on her face. It made me think of how Alice in Wonderland might have looked when she first entered Wonderland.
Nineties country hits slammed into us all at once. The smell of beer, bodies, and fried potatoes followed. I inhaled the textured memories that arose. Ah. Youth.
Thud-thump-thuds and muffled shouts cut through the ruckus, trembling the ground just enough to notice.
The packed dance floor occupied the entire right side of the two-story building, which was decorated to match a barn.
Rafters filled a soaring overhead ceiling, complete with aged decorations, like oil lanterns suspended by fraying ropes, wagon wheels, and hay bales.
The open space created the perfect opportunity for chaos and cacophony.
A long bar stretched across the left side, along with tables, swilling patrons, and hustling waitresses. Bottles gleamed in the low light, offering every kind of alcohol I’d ever heard of. An energy unlike anywhere else vibrated the air here.
Noelle’s hand fell away from my arm, taking it in with a dawning smile.
“This is great!” she called.
I put a hand on her back, motioned her to the dance floor. Pliable and ready, she moved, slipping sideways through a group of young people until I stopped her at the rim of the dance floor.
The current line dance would end soon; I knew the song, recognized the winding down notes as they trilled lower and the speed clipped.
Breathless, red-faced dancers laughed as they gave into the final burst. It cut off all at once.
Dancers dissolved like glitter, roving to all sides.
I pulled her closer and spoke directly into her ear.
“They usually alternate line dances into the music, but the rest is sort of free form with high-speed country dances. We’ll see what they come up with next, but it probably won’t be that rigid. Follow me, and I’ll guide you through.”
“I’ve never done this!”
I smiled. “I assumed. Just remember: dancing is about letting go.”
Her eyes met mine, startling me.
“Letting go?”
The queuing excitement built in my gut. The thought of whirling around the dance floor, whipping Noelle in time with the music, moving with the song. It used to give me a physical thrill that I chased every Saturday night.
Now?
Not as often, but Noelle had already changed that equation.
When her wide emerald eyes quietly implored mine, I felt the familiar rush of elation.
Excitement. Something bigger than the everyday routine, and far more real than whatever else I’d been doing the last five or six years.
I hadn’t felt this excited about something in . . .
. . . a decade?
“It’s my job to make dancing easy,” I called over increasing yells and shouts. “Do you trust me?”
I lifted my hand, palm open. Noelle immediately set hers in mine.
“Yes.”
My stomach tightened. That word, that immediate response, the clearness of her curious stare, cut me through. I’d do anything for her, and anything for that childlike trust. My fingers clamped around hers, and I unleashed my dancing grin. The music queued up, like I had planned it.
“Let’s dance.”