Summer Nights (Fool's Gold #8)(2)
“You were just dancing on a bar,” Heidi said with a shrug. “It doesn’t get more independent than that.”
“I wasn’t drunk. I was showing Charlie the dance of the happy virgin in an effort to convince her—” She shook her head, then stood. “You know what? I’m going to do it. I’m going to learn the dance myself. Or learn to ride. Whatever. It’s my bookmobile. My fundraiser. I’m taking charge. I’m putting myself out there. The spirit of the Máa-zib women lives on in me.”
“You go, girl,” Charlie told her.
* * *
“YOU WERE HOME EARLY last night.”
Shane turned off the water in the barn and glanced up to see his mother walking toward him. It was barely dawn, but she was up and dressed. More important, she carried a mug of coffee in each hand.
He took the caffeine she offered and swallowed gratefully. Visions of a fiery redhead had haunted the little sleep he’d managed.
“Jo’s Bar turned out to be more interesting than I’d thought.”
May, his still-attractive, fifty-something mother, grinned. “You went to Jo’s Bar? Oh, honey, no. That’s where the women in town hang out. There’s shopping and fashion playing on the TV, not sports. You should have talked to your brother about where to catch the game. No wonder you didn’t stay out late.” She reached out her free hand to stroke the nose of the mare hanging her head over her stall door. “Hello, sweetie. Are you adjusting? Don’t you love Fool’s Gold?”
The mare nodded, as if agreeing that all was well.
Shane had to admit his horses had settled in more quickly than he’d anticipated. The drive from Tennessee had been long but the end results worth the journey. He’d bought two hundred prime acres in the foothills outside of town. He’d already drawn up plans for a house and, more important, stables. Construction would start on the latter within the week. Until then he was boarding his horses in his mother’s stable and he was staying up at the house with her seventy-four-year-old boyfriend, Glen, Shane’s brother Rafe, and Rafe’s fiancée, Heidi. Talk about a crowd.
Shane reminded himself he was doing exactly what he’d always wanted to do in a place he planned to settle down. He had the horses, the land, family close by enough to make it feel like home but, once his house was built, not so close that they would get in the way. If only he could get the image of that woman out of his head.
“Mom, do you know—”
He bit back the rest of the question. His mother was the kind of woman who would know everyone in town. Give her a name and within fifteen minutes she would get back to him with four generations’ worth of details.
He wasn’t looking for trouble. He’d already done that, had married and then divorced the kind of woman who haunted a man. He’d had enough excitement to last him until he was ninety. Now was the time to settle down. To find someone sensible, someone who would be satisfied knowing that one man loved her.
His mother looked at him, her dark eyes so much like his own. Her mouth curved in a slow, knowing smile.
“Please, please say you’re going to ask me if I know any nice girls.”
What the hell, he thought, then shrugged. “Do you? Someone, you know, regular.” No one like the bar-dancing goddess.
His mother practically quivered. “Yes and she’s perfect. A librarian. Her name is Annabelle Weiss. She’s lovely. Heidi was telling me Annabelle wants to learn to ride a horse. You could teach her.”
A librarian, huh? He pictured a plain brunette in glasses, cardigan buttoned up to her neck and practical shoes. Not exactly exciting, but that was okay. He’d reached the place in his life where he wanted to have a family. He wasn’t looking for someone to rock his world.
“What do you think?” his mother asked anxiously.
“She sounds perfect.”
* * *
“RETURNING TO THE SCENE of the crime?”
Annabelle grinned at her friend. “There was no crime.”
“You know that and I know that, but rumors are flying, missy.”
Annabelle held open the door to Jo’s Bar, then waited while Charlie preceded her into the brightly lit business. It was lunchtime in Fool’s Gold and women already filled nearly a dozen tables. Jo catered to the female population, decorating with girl-friendly colors like mauve and cream. During the day the big TVs were either off or turned to shopping and reality shows. The menu had plenty of salads and sandwiches, with discreet calorie counts listed to the side.
Annabelle followed Charlie to a table and took a seat.
“Everyone is talking about you dancing on the bar.”
Annabelle laughed. “I don’t care. It was for a good cause. Even if it didn’t convince you to be in my festival. But that’s okay. I’m going to do it myself.” She frowned. “You are telling people I wasn’t drunk, right?”
In fact she hadn’t bothered to finish her single glass of wine. Getting on the bar last night had been more about feeling unsettled than wanting to show off and had nothing to do with any alcohol in her system.
Charlie grinned. “I swear, I’m sticking to the one-glass-of-wine story. The archaeologists were intrigued, though. I think the dance of the happy virgin is giving you street cred with them.”
“Yes, because they’re so wild.”