“I was thinking about moseying into town early,” Glen admitted, making light of it.

“Yeah, fine,” Cal said with a decided lack of interest. “Why don’t you just marry Ellie and be done with it?”

Glen frowned at his brother, but rather than become involved in a pointless argument he tore up the stairs to shower and change.

By the time Glen reached the outskirts of Promise, anger simmered just below the surface. He intended to check in with his friends at Billy D’s in a while, but he wouldn’t rest easy until he’d spoken to Ellie. He needed to see for himself that she was all right.

When he arrived at the feed store, George Tucker took one look at him and pointed him toward the business office. So Ellie was back, but she hadn’t bothered to return his calls.

The door was half-open and Glen saw Ellie sitting at the desk, her fingers flying over calculator buttons. She glanced up when he walked into the room. Under normal circumstances he would have poured himself some coffee. Not this afternoon. At least not yet. He wanted to find out what her mood was like first.

“You went to Bitter End, didn’t you,” he said quietly. Although he wished she’d taken his advice, his relief that she was safely home overrode any real anger.

“Did you honestly expect me not to?”

“No,” he said, knowing his actions the night of Ruth’s party had made that impossible.

“I...I wasn’t overly impressed with the town,” she admitted.

Well, he thought, that was a start in the right direction.

“Why didn’t you ever mention it before?” she asked, and he noticed a hurt tone in her voice.

“I never talked about it with anyone.” He walked across the room and reached for the coffeepot. “If I’d told you, you would’ve wanted to see it for yourself—which you did.”

“To tell you the truth, I understand why you didn’t want me there.”

That was what he’d figured. “I was worried about you,” he said.

“I know. I talked to Cal a few minutes ago.”

Glen frowned. He could just imagine what his brother had said. On second thought he didn’t want to know.

“You plan on making a return visit?” he asked, instead, keeping the question light.

“Go back? Not on your life.”

“Good.” He raised the mug to his lips and took a sip of coffee.

“I think we should talk,” Ellie surprised him by saying.

“Talk?” He froze, not sure he liked the sound of this.

She laughed softly, and Glen realized how much he’d missed hearing that. She had a deep rich laugh, unlike a lot of women he knew who had delicate laughs. Ellie’s was robust and confident, as if she didn’t need to prove her femininity by being reserved. He found her unique in any number of other ways.

“We can try to ignore it, pretend we’ve forgotten it, but the best way to deal with...what happened is to discuss it.”

His eyes held hers. “Are you talking about...” He was having as much trouble saying the word as she was.

“The...kiss.” There, she’d said it.

“The kiss,” he repeated in low tones, as though this were something dark and dangerous. He was beginning to think it was.

Ellie laughed, and soon he did, too.

“We should acknowledge that we were caught up in a momentary impulse,” she suggested primly. “And... Oh, hell, let’s just forget it.”

Leaning against the edge of her desk, Glen cradled his coffee mug in both hands. “I don’t think that’ll work.”

“Why not?” Ellie stood and replenished her own coffee.

Because they’d been friends all these years, Glen knew exactly what she was doing. What had prompted her sudden burst of activity wasn’t a craving for more coffee but an effort not to let him see what was in her eyes.

He set his mug aside and touched her shoulder. She jerked around as though he’d burned her.

“I don’t want to forget the kiss,” he said with blinding honesty. He didn’t recognize it as the truth until the words left his lips.

“You don’t?” She sounded startled.

“Do you?” He was a fool to ask, but he couldn’t have held back the question for anything.

“I...I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.” If he could hang out his pride to dry, then she’d damn well better be prepared to do the same thing.

She blinked twice. “All I want is for us to be friends.”

“We are. That hasn’t changed.”

“But it has!” she cried, gesturing wildly with her hands. “That kiss changed everything. I used to be able to talk to you.”

“You still can.”

“No, I can’t.”

“Try me,” he challenged.

She threw back her head and laughed, but this time her amusement lacked sincerity. “We can talk about anything, can we?” she flung at him. “Fine, then we’ll talk about how Richard’s kisses leave me cold and how all I could do was compare the way I felt when I was in your arms.”

Glen didn’t hear anything beyond the first few words. “So you’re kissing Richard now. Is there anyone else I don’t know about?”

“See?” she cried, tossing her arms in the air. “My point exactly.”

“What point?”

“We can’t talk.”

“We’re already talking! What do you mean?” This was the kind of convoluted conversation women suckered a man into—giving him just enough rope to hang himself. Glen had seen it happen often enough and had always managed to avoid it with Ellie. Until now.

“You said there wasn’t anything I couldn’t discuss with you, and already we’re at each other’s throats.”

“I am not at your throat!” he shouted, his patience gone. The entire day had been a waste. First he’d fretted about her with Richard in Bitter End. Then he’d attempted to revive their friendship, only to learn she’d been locking lips with Richard Weston.

“You’re welcome to him,” he said, setting the mug down forcibly enough to send coffee sloshing over the sides. “As far as I’m concerned, you and Richard deserve each other.”

“Oh, please, now you’re acting like a jealous fool.”

He was out the office door before he realized he’d had more than one reason for seeing Ellie. He walked back and leaned against the doorjamb, crossing his arms.

Ellie glanced up and waited.

“You going to the dance?” he asked finally, as if her answer didn’t really matter.

“I...haven’t decided yet. Are you going?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I probably will, too.”

“See you there?” he asked, his mood brightening.

She nodded. “Will you wait for me?”

He nodded, grinning.

She smiled back.

Five

As the evening wore on, Glen’s feelings toward Richard Weston grew even less friendly. He resented the other man’s putting Ellie at risk by escorting her to Bitter End. The more he thought about it, the more irritated he got. Richard’s dating Ellie had never set right with him, either. Especially now, when she was at a low point in her life following her father’s death and her mother’s move to Chicago. Although Ellie generally had a level head, Glen didn’t want Pretty Boy taking advantage of her.

And then there was his own unresolved—and unexpected—attraction to her.... But no, the real concern was Ellie’s vulnerability to a superficial charmer like Richard.

The only thing to do, Glen decided, was speak to Richard personally. Clear the air. Set him straight. He’d wait for the right opportunity. He was well aware that Ellie wouldn’t appreciate his having a chat with Richard on her behalf, but she didn’t need to know about it, either. Someone had to look after her interests. Glen liked to think of himself as her guardian. Okay, guardian was probably the wrong word, seeing as they were close to the same age. What she could use was a sort of...advocate. A concerned friend. Yes, that was it. An advocate. Someone who had her best interests at heart. Stepping in where needed.