His lips formed the word hi, but the way he pulled the bowl of peanuts closer and slumped over his drink communicated, Get lost.
She was bothering him and he didn’t like it, but she wasn’t willing to give up that easily. “You don’t come here very often,” she said, but for all she knew he appeared nightly. She was the one who didn’t come here often.
Right or wrong, he didn’t correct her. He popped nuts into his mouth and hunched down even farther.
“How’s the family?”
He blinked at her and broke down enough to respond. “Fine.”
“Your wife out of town again?”
“Yep. Mother’s had a setback.”
“Then you’re home alone?”
Nothing. He pretended to be preoccupied.
“I said, ‘You’re home alone?’” she persisted.
He shot her an exasperated look. “If they’re gone, I’m home alone, yeah.”
“So the kids went with her?”
“It’s summer. They like to see their grandparents.”
“How long will they be gone?”
His scowl darkened. “Do you want something?”
“I was just making small talk.”
“They’ll be gone the rest of the month, maybe longer. Like I said, it’s summer. Are we done yet?”
Claire drew a deep breath. “I bet it gets lonely when they’re away.”
Shoving the nuts aside, he got up and grabbed his drink, but she caught his arm before he could leave.
“Can’t we have a conversation, Joe? Please, sit down and…and talk to me for a minute.”
His eyes darted toward the door. “I’d rather not.”
“But I want to tell you I’m sorry about before. The way things have gone…it’s not fair to you. I realize that now I know…about Leanne.”
His beer sloshed onto the bar as he slammed down his mug. He hadn’t had a chance to drink much of it, so she thought he’d relent, but he shook his head. “As far as I’m concerned, that’s ancient history. I’ve said all I’m going to say.” Then he walked out.
Claire propped her chin on her fist. So much for making friends with Joe Kenyon. He wanted nothing to do with her. That sentiment probably extended to her whole family, except Tug, who gave him quite a bit of tree work.
Rusty weaved through the small group of patrons still there, coming toward her with his drink. She wanted to tell him she was ready to go, but when he reached her, he set his beer down and pulled her onto the dance floor. “I like this song!” he yelled over the music.
From eight to midnight, four nights a week, five home-grown boys took the stage at the Kicking Horse Saloon. They weren’t fantastic musicians, but they weren’t bad, either, considering that their music was only a sideline to the farming and ranching they did during the day. As part of their final set for the evening, they were playing a slow song, which gave Rusty the perfect excuse to hold her tight.
The beer he’d drunk smelled sour on his breath. Trying to avoid his mouth, Claire turned her head in the other direction, which he took as an invitation to skim his lips over the inch of skin above her turtleneck. She shivered, but not because she’d enjoyed it. The exact opposite was true. She didn’t want to be this close to him, didn’t want him to touch her at all.
Afraid someone would see them dancing so intimately and assume they were now an item, she tried to put more space between them, but he tightened his grip and rubbed his pelvis against her as if he thought he was turning her on.
It was all Claire could do not to embarrass him by wrenching free and stalking off the floor. She might’ve done it, except that she blamed herself as much as him for her current predicament. She didn’t really return his interest; she shouldn’t have called him. But she’d never dreamed he’d move so fast.
“I—I’m not over David,” she murmured, ducking her head to avoid his mouth when he tried to kiss her.
He tensed but didn’t release her. “Ah, come on, Claire. I’ve known you all your life, waited forever for this date. I hate what happened to David. You know I cared about him, too. But he’s been gone for over a year. How long are you going to hold on?”
His response irritated her. “It’s not like I can give you a specific day, Rusty. I’m not missing him to be difficult. That’s just the way it is for me. He was my husband.”
“And he was one of my best friends!”
Rusty had been with David at the end. He didn’t like to talk about it, which told her as much as anything what a horrible experience it had been. “Then you, of all people, should understand.”
“I guess guys are just more practical, you know? It was a tragedy, for sure, but you didn’t die when he did. He wouldn’t want you to be unhappy. So why are you hiding out in that house of yours, wasting away?”
“I can’t simply forget I loved him and transfer my affections to the next person in line.” The tension of holding him so rigidly made her shoulders ache. It was stupid that she couldn’t relax, but she felt…nothing. No, worse than nothing, she was repulsed.
She might as well have gone to Isaac’s. Avoiding him hadn’t improved her situation. “I just…need you to be my friend.”
“I’ve been your friend for years. I’m ready for more. I won’t lie…I’ve always admired you, even when you were married to David. I thought he was the luckiest guy in the world.”
“I appreciate that, but—”
“Your sister’s come on to me before. You know that, right?”
Claire felt a blush rise to her cheeks. This wasn’t welcome news but she wasn’t all that surprised. “What you and Leanne do is none of my business.”
“But that’s just it. I shut her down. I want you, not her.”
If he thought that was going to make any difference, he was wrong. “I’m not ready,” she said again.
“Fine. Then we’re wasting our time here.”
“Another practical response?” she snapped.
“The truth. Let’s go.”
He headed for the door, but she didn’t follow. She couldn’t bring herself to spend another second in his company. This date had been a disaster.
“You comin’ or not?” he called, holding his keys.
She felt like telling him to grow up and quit pouting, but she knew that would only make matters worse. She shook her head.