"I have appointments in the morning and won't be back till five at the earliest. There's an auctioneers' dance and we're going."
Her hands on her hips, she glared up at him. "Excuse me?"
"I won't take no for an answer, Hayley. Be ready by seven."
He took a few steps away, then stopped when she called, "I hate bullies and this doesn't change a damn thing and … and … I don't have a thing to wear to a dance."
He eyed her from her sneakers to the top of her head. "That's a lame excuse. You just be ready."
"See if I will, Nash Rayburn!" She went into her room and slammed the door.
Nash sighed hard and rubbed his hand over his face. He hated making demands on her, but why was she so dead set against even giving them a chance? Why didn't she see that they could work this out if she'd just cooperate a little. He blamed her father for this, sending a child off to take care of herself. She'd done it for so long, looking out for herself alone, she didn't know how to let anyone else in. As she had when they were together before, she was terrified that if she let anyone into her life so completely, she'd lose it all again. And he knew it was harder for her, because he was the one person she'd let get close, and he'd betrayed that trust. She was too independent and didn't want to be anyone's responsibility, let alone share her burdens with him. And he wanted to share them. He just had to make her understand that. And if she denied them this chance, Nash knew he'd never recover.
Hayley was furious most of the day, stewing over his arrogant demands. Just who did he think he was, telling her they were going out to a dance without asking her first? She vented her anger by cleaning house and washing clothes. She weeded the flower beds around the house although a gardener came twice a month to do it.
She was alone on the plantation, and for a while she strolled the grounds, walked through the barns and chatted with the horses. She even swept and cleaned up in there. Sweating and dirty, she considered staying just like that when he returned. It would serve him right to go to this dance alone. Yet, regardless, she was in her room, thumbing through her clothes hanging in the closet, trying to find something suitable, when the doorbell rang. Sighing irritatedly, she pitied the fool on the other side of the door as she flung it open.
A woman, dark-haired and smartly dressed, stood on the porch.
"Dr. Albright?"
"Yes."
"I'm Mary Faith Rockwell. I own the shop on Sycamore, the Blue Swan."
Hayley smiled. "Oh, I saw that shop. You have some lovely things in the window."
"Thank you. You must stop in sometime. I've got a few garments that would look spectacular on you."
Hayley wasn't going to mention that she couldn't afford her prices. "What are you doing here? Nash is gone till—"
"Oh, I know." She stepped back out of sight for a moment, then came back with a white plastic garment bag, emblazoned with her shop's logo, a blue swan. "This is for you." She pressed it into her hands. "And this." She added a large hatbox. "Enjoy," she said, and turned on her heel, moving quickly down the porch to her car.
"I didn't buy anything," Hayley called out.
"There's a card inside the box," the woman said with a private smile as she slipped into her car.
Hayley stared at the package, then at Mary Faith driving away. Closing the door, she went immediately to her room, set the hatbox down and pulled the garment from the bag.
A filmy sage-green chiffon duster lay like a spider web over a silk-beaded sheath dress in the same color. The jacket was long, sheer and crisp. It looked like a cloud wrapping the dress. Hayley loved it. She'd never seen anything so elegant. Quickly she opened the hatbox. Inside was a matching clutch and skimpy delicate heeled sandals. There were stockings and even a bra and a pair of the tiniest sage-green panties inside. Then she saw the card, recognizing Nash's handwriting.
She opened the tiny envelope and read: Come be my belle of the ball.
Hayley sank onto the bed, her eyes burning with tears. Well, dang. How was she supposed to stay mad at him now? She admitted she'd heard of the dance while at the rodeo and had been wondering if he'd attend. She still wanted to smack him for being such a bully last night. He had to learn he couldn't get his way just because he was a man. She looked at the outfit. It was gorgeous, and the elegance of it told her this wasn't just a country dance.
She battled with her pride for about two seconds, then hung the dress on the back of the door and dashed to the bathroom to get cleaned up.
Nash paced the foyer. Hayley didn't answer when he'd knocked on her bedroom door a few minutes ago, and he wondered if she was ever going to come out. At least if she did do it to just holler at him, he'd have a fighting chance.