He didn’t, but he could tell it wasn’t dancing that interested Glen. His brother intended to prove to Ellie, and quite possibly himself, that he didn’t need her to have a good time. In other words, he was determined to act like a world-class idiot in front of the entire town.

Cal could almost guarantee that before the end of this night, Glen was going to do something really stupid. Now, that would have some entertainment value, but more important, Cal considered it his brotherly duty to be there to pick up the pieces afterward. He felt for Glen; he’d been through this, too. Heartbroken and humiliated.

Oh, yeah, definitely best to keep your distance from women.

Cal heard the band playing when he parked his truck in a long line of vehicles outside the Grange Hall. Cars and trucks were crammed bumper to bumper on both sides of the two-lane highway; obviously the parking lot had filled early in the evening. From the look of things everyone in town had shown up for the dance that traditionally kicked off summer.

The piercing strains of a fiddle cut into the night, followed by a banjo and Pete Hadley’s melodic voice. Light spilled out of the open doorway and Cal could see a number of the married men clustered outside for a breath of fresh air. That, and a swallow or two of the hard stuff. Cal wasn’t much of a drinking man himself. A cold beer now and again was more to his liking.

Someone shouted a greeting and Cal raised his arm in silent salute, but didn’t stop to chat. He’d given his brother two hours—two hours during which he’d have his pride booted to hell and gone. If all went according to his calculations, Glen would be drunk soon or wish he was. Give him another hour. At that point Cal would step forward and haul him home.

The poor guy was in love, and while that alone guaranteed disaster, the worst of it was that Glen refused to admit it. Seeing his brother in such sad shape was akin to looking back two years and remembering the way he’d been with Jennifer. It amazed him now he hadn’t seen her for what she was. He’d been so deeply infatuated with her he would have done anything to make her happy. Anything to prove how much he cared.

He’d asked her to be his wife, and six months later she’d humiliated him by canceling their wedding at the last minute. All because he wouldn’t give up ranching and move to San Antonio or Houston. Jennifer, who’d transferred from Phoenix, Arizona, to take a short-lived job as an assistant bank manager, had wanted out of small-town America. She’d wanted to move him to a city so crowded he’d never be able to breathe.

Cal had loved Jennifer, but he couldn’t change who he was, not even for her. When he wouldn’t dance to her tune, she pulled out of the wedding only two days before the event. Then she’d skipped town, leaving him to deal with the explanations and the embarrassment. Last he’d heard, Jennifer was living in Houston with some salesman.

He should have realized from the first she was a city girl at heart. But, like Glen, he’d been in love and hadn’t recognized what was right there in front of him. Pushing thoughts of his ex-fiancée from his mind, he headed toward the hall.

The huge room was packed, forcing Cal to twist and turn as he made his way through the crowd. Men and women stretched across the hardwood floor in long rows, line dancing to the “Boot Scootin’ Boogie.” He remembered a few steps himself; Jennifer had insisted he learn the basics, despite the fact that he’d been born with two left feet.

When that song was over, the couples dancing started. Cal peered around, looking for Glen, and finally spotted him. His brother stood on the opposite side of the room, leaning against the bar, his narrowed gaze trained on the dancers. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who held his attention.

Ellie.

Cal’s eyebrows arched when he saw the object of his brother’s affection. He’d never seen Ellie look prettier. The dress wasn’t one with a Western flavor, which appeared to be the popular choice, but more old-fashioned. Elegant. She looked damn pretty, and Glen wasn’t the only one who’d noticed, either.

Richard Weston had his arm tightly wrapped around Ellie’s waist. From all appearances they were deeply involved with each other. This was worse than Cal had expected. He knew the type of man Richard Weston was, and he’d figured Ellie would’ve caught on fast enough herself. Apparently he’d overestimated her ability to judge character. It was a shame, too, because Richard was a user.

This protective feeling toward Ellie surprised Cal. He didn’t want to have any feelings toward women. Whatever you did, you got your teeth kicked in. Wasn’t worth it. No siree, he’d learned his lesson the hard way.

As he looked back at his brother, his eyes strayed to the woman standing directly to Glen’s left. It took him a moment to remember who she was. The new doc. The first time he’d noticed her she’d worn a power business suit to a barbecue; now she was dressed in jeans and a snap-button Western shirt. Not exactly appropriate attire for the year’s most formal event. Cal couldn’t help feeling sorry for her, even if she was a city girl, but suspected she found this hick-town dance highly amusing. He could picture her phoning her city friends and making fun of the way people dressed and talked in Texas.

The doc must have sensed his scrutiny because she glanced across the room and looked squarely back at him. He glared in her direction, wanting her to know that he didn’t like her attitude—or what he assumed her attitude to be.

The music ended just then, and before Cal could stop him, Glen marched onto the dance floor and headed straight for Ellie.

***

This was working out even better than Ellie had hoped. Glen hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her all evening. Richard viewed Glen as competition. She was well aware that his attentions had more to do with one-upmanship than any real interest in her; nevertheless she found flattery a balm to her wounded pride. She knew it was a superficial and childish reaction, but she couldn’t help it. Glen had really hurt her by asking Nell to the dance. Temporarily, at least, being with Richard was a way of assuaging that pain.

The one bad side effect was that Glen’s presence had brought out a possessiveness in Richard she wasn’t sure she liked.

The only man she wanted to dance with hadn’t even approached her. He’d followed her every move but hadn’t made one of his own. Glen must’ve been reading her thoughts, though, because as soon as the music ended, he squeezed through the maze of people and stopped directly in front of her.

“The next dance is mine,” he announced, his grim eyes challenging her to contradict him.

She stared at him, astonished. This was a side of her friend she’d never seen. Demanding, intense. Generally he took everything in his stride, live and let live, that sort of thing. But this... Ellie didn’t know what to think.

“You’ve danced with Richard three times now. It’s my turn.”

“You’re counting?”

“Yes,” he snapped. He grasped her about the waist, dragged her close and clenched her hands as if expecting Pete to break into the “Beer Barrel Polka.”

“Isn’t this dance mine?” Richard asked with a look of sardonic surprise.

“She’s dancing with me,” Glen responded before she had a chance to answer.

“Ellie?” Richard turned to her with lifted brows.

Glen’s arms tightened around her defiantly.

“It’s all right,’ she assured the other man. “I’ll dance with Glen.” She waited until Richard had left the dance floor, then burst out, “What’s gotten into you?” She had to raise her chin to look him in the eye.

“Plenty,” he responded gruffly.

The music started again and Glen whirled her to the opposite side of the room and as far away as possible from Richard. The dance number was a mournful ballad about love gone wrong. Ellie found it a fitting choice. Couples flocked onto the dance floor, their arms around each other like clinging blackberry vines.