Ranch Hand For Auction: A Western Romance Novella (8 page)

CHAPTER ONE

Reese glanced over the large crowd of dancing bodies as she caught her breath. It hadn’t  been easy to keep up with the fast-paced line dance in a gown and high heels, but she’d be lying if she said it hadn’t been fun. Still, it was almost time to pass off her crown to this year’s winner, and she needed to freshen up.

With a shallow sigh, she searched the crowd once more, glad when she failed to see the man with the unyielding gaze. The gawking stranger had set her on edge since she’d arrived. Perhaps he’d gone home, she decided, feeling hopeful at the mere thought.

The rowdy song came to an end while she moved along the outskirts of the dance floor. A warm Texas breeze wafted over her skin just as the band started a new tune – a slow and easy number. The kind that had her picturing warm days at the lake. Or romantic strolls on a moonlit night. She smiled as a young couple among the group caught her attention. Their intimate contact seeming to reach into that longing place in her heart. Reese’s glance shifted to the man’s hand, clenched around the woman’s waist as he kissed her, passion oozing from his every move. Never had she been kissed in such a manner. Or even known a man she wished would kiss her that way. 

“Some folks just don’t know when to get a room,” a familiar voice spoke.

Reese spun around to see her younger brother, CJ, standing close by. Her face flushed with heat as her gaze fell back to the couple. “Yeah,” she agreed with a sigh. “I guess you’re right.”

“Why ain’t you dancin’ with nobody?” CJ asked. “Too big of a snob?”  

She slapped his arm. “You know I’d never turn anyone down. I’m just looking for Mama, is all. She’s got my makeup bag.”

“Well, wish I could help ya, but I’m off to find a pretty little thing to dance with.” He flashed her a mischievous grin, rolling his shoulders back.

“You enjoy yourself,” she said. “And don’t you go makin’ out on the dance floor.”

Her brother cocked one eyebrow, gave her a wink, and then disappeared into the crowd. Reese’s gaze wandered to the auction tables along the stage. And there was her mom, frantically scribbling on a tattered notepad.

The lights on the stage were bright against the night, causing Reese to squint as she moved. She’d made it only part-way up the steps when a wiry hand clamped around her wrist.

“Would you like to dance?”

Reese spun around, knowing who’d asked before even seeing the man. She forced a polite smile as her fears were confirmed. It was him – the man who’d burned holes straight through her body with his steely glare alone. He was fairly thin, but his features were soft and round; from the outline of his clean-shaven jaw, to his small nose and bulbous cheeks. He blinked a few times, his bright green eyes watering from the blaring stage lights.

“I’d love to,” she lied, guessing the makeup would have to wait. Her peace of mind would be put on hold too, but it was just one dance. She could get through it.

His clammy fingers skidded down her wrist to where he took hold of her hand, pulling her deep into the crowd before settling on a spot. Reese grimaced, suddenly feeling like a giant. With the help of her three-inch heels, she was half-a-head taller than the guy.

He glanced up at her, the intensity she’d seen in his eyes replaced by something entirely different. Reese tilted her head; she’d made a habit of looking for the inner light in folks – that unique spark that made each person shine. She could usually sense it quickly enough. A humble kindness or confident gleam. A determined spirit or forgiving heart. Surely this guy was no exception.  

Or was he? She furrowed her brows as she looked at him further, unable to get past the odd shifting of his eyes. The strange way he evaded her gaze.

He was simply shy, Reese decided, as he stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her back. She rested her hands on his shoulders in return, unnerved by his tense and rigid form. Her skin objected to him too. The very feel of him against her was all wrong.

There was an obvious rhythm to the slow song playing, but the guy barely lifted a foot. Reese had danced with several men that evening. Everything from true Texas gentlemen to cocky, bull riding brutes. But none of them had made her feel the way this guy did. On edge. Almost … afraid. She pulled in a deep breath, counting down the seconds, dying for the song to end. She felt guilty for being so turned off by the man; he was obviously nervous. Most likely he’d simply been working up the nerve to ask her to dance as he’d stared throughout the evening. Why couldn’t she be endeared to him instead?

The answer stood in the energy surrounding him; it felt off. Eager. Intense. And as much as she wanted to make polite conversation to ease the discomfort of it all, she couldn’t think of a word to say. He’d just have to be the one to speak up first.

Yet as the band played on, the odd stranger never uttered a word. And as ugly as it felt, staying silent as they danced, Reese did just that.

At last the music began to fade as a deep voice blared from the stage – Corbin Carmichael,  the host of the annual event. “One last song, folks,” he announced, “and then our Pearland Rose and our new title holder will take the stage for the passing of the crown.” Hoots, hollers, and cat calls sounded from the crowd. “Now let’s hear one more round of applause for our rip roaring band for the night, the Texan Blasters. I wanna see all y’all on the dance floor for this one. Time to get those boots a stompin’!”

Reese cleared her throat and backed away from the awkward man, causing him to drop his arms at last. “Thanks for the dance,” she said, turning away from him. She was anxious to be free from the man, to find her mom, and to get freshened up before passing on her crown.

It was that tight and sudden grip around her wrist that stopped her short, a repeat of what he’d done the first time. His palm felt cool and wet. “Guess it’s time to finally give up your title,” the young man said. “I’m really going to miss seeing you in that crown.”

Reese’s gaze had been set on the grip he had on her. She glanced over to the bodies stepping to the line dance before looking into the man’s face. Beads of sweat coated his forehead and upper lip. The surface of his cheeks looked red and swollen. “I hardly ever wore the thing,” she said.

“You wore it to all your public appearances.” His fingers loosened the slightest bit. The corner of his lip twitched.

Reese nodded, his intrusive gaze causing her to shift; the striking green of his eyes becoming oddly familiar. “Do I know you from somewhere?”  she asked.

“High school,” he explained. “I’m Donald Turnsbro. We were in Mr. Li’s biology class together.”

“That’s right,” she said. Only she couldn’t actually place him. It’d been five years since high school after all. The crowd started to move in on them, forcing their bodies close once more. “Well, thanks again for the dance,” Reese said. “I better go freshen up.” She darted toward the stage, barely dodging a collision with the dancers on the floor. She folded her arms over her chest as she sped up the stairs, recalling the way he’d reached for her wrist; the recollection making her shiver.

She spotted her mom next to the auction table, arranging paper slips next to each item sold. “Mama?”

A large smile spread over her face as she spun around. “Hi, darlin’. You’re going to be up in just a bit.”

Reese remained motionless as she adjusted the hair around her crown. “Is it a mess?” she asked.

“Nah, I’ve seen worse. But here, you’ll be wanting this.” She spun around and began scrounging under the picnic table at the edge of the stage, the curtain barely covering the mess of tote bags, Tupperware, and boxes. “Here.” She handed over her makeup bag. “Doesn’t look like there’s a line to the ladies room. Why don’t you sneak on in there.”

A deep sigh made its way through Reese’s chest as she tucked the small bag under her arm. “Thank you.”

“What’s a matter, baby? Sad about giving up your crown?”

Reese shrugged, looking over the crowd for the strange man. “Maybe a little.”

Her mom placed her hands on Reese’s cheeks, waited until her gaze settled back on her. “Well there’s a bright side to it, ya know? Close your eyes and take a whiff.”

Reese looked back at her warily.

“Trust me, baby. Just do it.”

While releasing another sigh, Reese closed her eyes. Her mom’s hands moved to Reese’s upper arms. “Now,” she said, “inhale a nice, deep breath.”

Reese inhaled until her chest rose.

“What do you smell?” she asked her.

“I don’t know.”

A chuckle escaped her mom’s lips. “Boy, you
have
been dieting for a while. Haven’t ya? Try again.”

Reese focused as she breathed in, noting the incredible aroma, thick on the evening air. Rich and smoky, tangy and sweet. “Barbeque,” she said. “Smells just like Grandma Dee’s.”

“That’s right. And you don’t have to worry about fitting into these gowns or keeping trim for any special events. Soon as you hand over that crown, let the new girl count calories and you go get some
real
food.”

Reese gasped. “Mama,” she said with a chuckle. “I can’t believe my ears.”

“What? I ain’t suggesting you let yourself go completely. But you need to take advantage of the perks of
not
being Miss Pearland’s Rose.”

Reese smiled. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.” Her mouth watered at the thought.

“That-a girl. Now skedaddle on outta here and go freshen up.” Her mom had managed to distract her from the disturbing encounter with the strange man; Reese was grateful for it. She always did know how to make things right.

Feeling a bit more at ease, Reese sped toward the restrooms behind the stage. She gripped hold of the thick, black curtain along the sidewall, knowing the bathroom doors were entirely hidden by the thing, and spotted a  man among the hefty cloth.

Her heart jumped.

She tilted her head, anxious to get a better look at his face, when he disappeared into the fabric folds. With renewed force, Reese shoved the curtain aside once more, wondering if her mind was playing tricks on her. She might not have gotten a solid look at him, but the man she’d seen looked just like Donald Turnsbro; she was sure of it.

Her hands trembled slightly as she tugged the curtain back one last time, knowing she was in the right place. And there it was, the sign she’d been looking for, the letters carved right into the bathroom door:
Senoritas.

Anxious thumps pressed their way through her chest as she pried open the heavy oak door, desperate to get into the quiet space and grip hold of her rampant thoughts.

The music died down as the door closed behind her, the soft glow of light a welcoming change. She skipped the mirror altogether and sped straight for the only stall. Reese had the door partway closed before she noticed a young woman standing at the sink. She tilted her head to catch eye contact with her through the mirror. Blonde hair, a sash over her shoulder, and a dress that matched the color of Reese’s gown.

“Howdy,” Reese offered with a shaky voice.

The girl blinked her lashes through a wand of mascara before glancing at her. “Can’t wait to get my hands on that crown,” she said. “Are you sad about giving it up?”

Reese shook her head. “Only a little. I mean, it’s been a great year, and you’re going to enjoy every minute of it I’m sure, but I think I’m about ready to be done with it and move on. You know?”

The girl reached into her makeup bag before twisting a small lid off a tube of lip gloss. She smothered it over her top lip as she spoke. “I don’t know,” she said, moving to the bottom lip. “I’m not gonna stop here. I plan to go onto Brazoria County, Miss Texas, Miss America. I want it all.”

Reese smiled, charmed by the young woman’s ambition. There was quite a difference in their ages. Pearland’s new rose had won at the young age of eighteen, while Reese had taken the crown at the maximum age of twenty-three. “Well, good for you. I’ll be cheering ya on from the sidelines,” she said before closing the stall door. The latch to lock the metal door was old and rusty. Nearly impossible to slide. She tightened her grip around the dull knob and shoved, the loud ‘pop’ filling the quiet space. “Sorry,” Reese said. “Stubborn lock.”

Her gaze fell to the small tiles on the floor as she folded her arms over her chest, wishing she could skip the ceremony altogether, slip out the back door and go home. Her interaction with the man on the dance floor had her feeling nervous. Afraid, though she knew it was foolish. The guy couldn’t possibly mean her harm. He’d only been awkward was all. Not dangerous. She nodded to herself, convinced to shake it off.

With a wave of assurance urging her forward, Reese reached for the latch to unlock the stall. Just as she shoved the stubborn thing into place, an ear-splitting explosion rocked the room. Reese pressed her hands to her ears and ducked down, cringing as the deafening blast echoed throughout the small space.

A gunshot?
Had somebody just shot a gun? Her heart thudded against her chest, the pressing rhythm making it hard to breathe. A sharp ringing pierced her ears as she lifted her chin, and then straightened to a stand altogether. Through the crack of the stall frame, a view of the mirror came into sight. Only she didn’t see the girl. Instead Reese saw a man reflected there – his green eyes wild. And then he was gone, lost in the black fabric folds.

The door creaked to a close. The shrill ringing only intensified  as she yanked open the flimsy stall door. Blood. A dark, oozing pool of it soaked the satin banner across the young girl’s chest. A hand flew to Reese’s mouth as she screamed, a horrid realization coming to mind: The man in the mirror – it had been him. The one who’d sent her rushing to the restroom in fear. He was dangerous after all. And though it hurt to think it, Reese was certain the bullet in the girl’s chest had been meant for her.

Kimberly Krey lives in the Salt Lake Valley with her husband, four children, and two dogs. She has a great love for literature, family, and food.