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pounding in her head told her to flee.
"Jesse, you asshole. Dusty, Dusty, look at me."
Clay's voice sounded like he was in a tunnel somewhere.
She felt the pressure of his fingers circling her wrist. She
wrenched free and stood. She had to get out of there. Fast.
"Dusty, it's not like that and you damn well know it."
"You can't say I'm lying, Clay. Hey if it was just a good
time what is everyone so upset about?"
She barely heard Jesse's words as she stumbled away
from the table. The sounds of spurs jangling and boots hitting
dirt came from behind her.
"Dusty," Clay grasped her wrist; this time his grip was
tighter.
"Let me be." Dusty heard the shrill voice, but it didn't
sound like hers. Several faces turned in her direction. She
didn't care. Tears welled in her eyes. "Don't ever touch me
again, Clay Tanner. Don't come near me again. Ever."
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Her legs were moving, fast. Across the hard-packed earth,
toward her truck. Toward home. Alone.
* * * *
"I should kick your ass all the way back to the ranch," Clay
hollered. Feeling his blood pressure rising, he stood by the old
pick-up parked in the lot, clenching his fists to keep from
using them, and glared at Jesse's expressionless face. He
wanted to knock those sunglasses right off of him. Instead he
tossed his saddle into the truck bed.
"Don't take your anger out on me, cowboy. You should
have told me."
On that score and only that score, Jesse was right. He'd
mentioned that he'd been courting Dusty and Jesse had been
none too happy. In fact, he'd insisted on coming today even
though he was still in no condition to ride. Clay hadn't gone
into the particulars of just what courting meant, but Jesse
had to guess.
"You should have known." Clay held himself rigid to
contain the fury that threatened to shake his body. He fought
for control because he was about ready to haul off and punch
his best friend. The only explanation for Jesse's coming was
that he wanted Dusty to know about the bet. But why?
"No, you should have told me not to say anything. You
should have told me that you lied to her to get her in bed."
Now Jesse sounded angry and that was just plain ridiculous.
Clay threw up his hands in frustration and leaned back
against the door of the cab. Several people had already given
them interested stares. They were putting on a show for
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everyone. He took a deep breath and tried to calm down as
he folded his arms across his chest. "How do you know I lied?
You don't know what I said. You don't know how I feel." And
that was the truth because Clay didn't know himself.
"I know you, and Dusty doesn't deserve your brand of
romance, Clay. One look at her today and it was obvious.
She's in love with you. She may not be feeling too good right
now, but it's better than she'd feel in a few weeks when she
was hearing wedding bells, if she isn't already."
She was in love with him? Wedding bells? Moisture pooled
under his arms.
"Hell, I did you a favor. And Dusty, too." Jesse slapped at
his denim-clad thigh as if he was trying to rid it of some
imaginary dirt. "You've got no business toying with that girl. I
told you before she's made for marrying not dallying. Girls
like that don't understand your kind of fun. They get hurt.
Badly hurt. The scarred-for-life kind of hurt and then guys like
me decent guys who want to get married and settle down
don't have a chance because they won't trust anyone."
What the hell was Jesse saying? The scary thing was he
was making some kind of sense. But how come Jesse was the
good guy and Clay was coming out as the bad guy?
"She thinks she was part of a bet, God damn it." How
could that be good for anyone? "I'd forgotten all about the
damn bet. You know I didn't go after her for your hundred
dollars."
Jesse shoved his hands in his pockets. "Hell, every time
you see a pretty girl, you make a bet with yourself. It's a
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challenge with you. You may not be playing for the hundred
dollars but you sure as hell were playing."
Is that what he'd been doing? Betting with himself? Was
that what it had been with Dusty? A challenge? She had been
challenging, for sure. He'd never met a woman more reluctant
to go to bed with him. That had hurt his ego. No doubt about
it. But loving her had been one of the most beautiful things
he'd ever experienced. He'd felt honored, like it had been a
great gift, not a mark on his belt. She'd called up feelings he
didn't know he had. Protective feelings, tender feelings,
sensitive feelings. Feelings.
He hadn't been able to think about anyone or anything but
her. That curvy redhead had called several times and he'd
absolutely no desire for her size D fundamentals. His mind
had been occupied by a size A with a sweet smile and a sassy
line. A little spitfire that lit him up every time.
"What if I wasn't?" Clay ground out. "What the hell if I
wasn't? What if I actually love her, Jesse?"
Jesse's face paled. "You serious?"
Clay closed his eyes. All he saw was Dusty. With tears
streaming down her face. How the hell was he going to right
this one?
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Chapter Eleven
Whitey jumped from the bed and started to bark.
"It's me, Dusty, open the door." Annagrace's voice carried
through the sealed off room. "Your mom's worried about you.
Let me in. Please."
Dusty barely stirred from under the covers of her bed. It
felt like a two hundred pound anvil was sitting on her chest,
the pain was just as intense. "Go away." The words came out
in a strangled gasp.
"No. I'm not going away. So open the darn door."
Dusty pulled her body upright in a slow jerky movement.
She swung her legs over the side, flung back the covers and
stood. The cool air of the air-conditioning chilled her skin.
Passing the mirror, she caught sight of the lace bra and
panties she was wearing and the necklace around her neck.
Tears burned her eyes. How could she have been so stupid?
How could he have been so calculating?
"Dusty, open this door. Your mama is worried."
With robotic movement, Dusty made it to the door, threw
the latch and cracked it open. "I'm alive. Now go away."
The door slammed into Dusty. With a yelp, she staggered
back and Annagrace stepped into the room. Whitey did a jig
around her feet. Hands on hips, pursed lips, Annagrace
looked as angry as Dusty felt. No it wasn't anger Dusty felt. It
was more defeat, closer to self-loathing. How come she
hadn't listened to her brain? Why had she let a smooth-
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talking cowboy get past her defenses? Why had she been so
needy?
Dusty shoved the door closed and padded back to her bed.
Her bed, where Clay had made love to her too many times to
count. No. Correction. He'd had sex. Filled an elemental need.
Had a good time.
Tears clogged her eyes. She climbed in, the soft bedding
still warm from her body, and pulled the covers over her
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