Page 88 of The Banker and the Blue Collar Man

I was filled with something buoyant that wanted to pull me up and up into the heavens. Dalton touched my face, looking at me as though he’d seen something entirely new.

“You’re smiling,” he said. “You smiled last night, and you’re smiling again.”

“Is that okay?” I wanted all those people to go away. I wanted to put the ring on his finger. I wanted him to kiss me.

I couldn’t do anything about the first, but I could take care of the other two. Pulling the ring out, I slid it onto his finger and covered his hand with my own. Then I kissed him, good and proper, right in front of all those fine folks lined up to gawk at us.

Well, they could look all they wanted, but they would never be happier than I was in that moment. Never be happier than Dalton and me together. Never.

Chapter 26

Jake

The party in the barn was in full swing. Somehow it had taken only a day to arrange the setup. The horses and cattle were all in the upper paddocks, far away from light and noise. Sheets of plywood laid in a large square just outside the barn formed a dance floor illuminated by lights strung from poles. Couples were already out there, doing the two-step in large, lazy circles.

Inside, all the barn lights were on. The DJ had set up his station, headphones on backward, a stack of actual records in a rack. Playing good songs, too, with words I could understand. Cowboy favorites and Dalton’s favorites.

There was a buffet on one side of the main barn, lined up in front of the box stalls, and if I’d thought the dining hall offerings left me full, I’d not imagined what would happen when Dalton made sure there were shish kebabs on a grill, sizzling in a mouthwatering way. I’d had three helpings. My belly was pushing against my belt buckle.

Dalton had asked me about that long-ago barbecue when I’d gotten punished for stealing a shard of meat from the grill. Upon discovering that the meal had been shish kebabs, he must havemade a point about it to Lucas, the mastermind behind all this. Our engagement party.

Smoke from the grills wafted in the air, limned by the spotlights in each corner of the barn. In addition to the shish kebabs, the grills held hot wings and hunks of steak. The tables groaned under the weight of potato salad, macaroni salad, and Jell-O salad. Sweet rolls. Cookies. Brownies. We were never going to run out of food. Or drink.

Hearty chatter rose to the rafters, the scent of hay mixing with the mist of beer from the pony kegs. I’d had a chat with Lucas as well, and there were pitchers—many—of gin and tonic, and the bartender, a young woman from the Saddle Up Saloon, had been instructed to keep those pitchers full and flowing.

Folks were having a blast, but all I wanted to do was sneak away. I watched Dalton from my spot near the open doors, inhaling the smoke from the grills, the dust of hay, ghostly scents of horsehair and hoof oil.

Dalton had a clear plastic glass in his hand as he chatted to anyone and everyone. He was the center of attention at this party, and that was fine by me. He deserved the spotlight for being so good, so good to me, and so pretty as he smiled that sweet smile of his.

His fair hair was sticking to his temples from the heat, and he’d taken off his new cowboy hat long ago. He’d given it to me, and now it was safely ensconced in Walter’s office.

My hat sat beside his on that old desk. Both were waiting until we could make a safe exit whenever Dalton had enough of the chatter and the handshaking and the backslapping. Of showing off his ring, pointing in my direction, his eyes alight each time he looked at me.

I was his prize. He was mine. Bliss was ours.

I didn’t want to dance. I just wanted to watch as the world of Snow Creek Ranch celebrated. The world that I’d entered, so fullof bitterness and anger twelve years ago, had come through a lot, struggling to find its place after Walter had passed. And now we had this: a party that reached the rafters. A party that didn’t look to be slowing down anytime soon.

Dalton came over and pressed himself against me, full body, where I leaned against the wall. His plastic glass of gin and tonic was nearly full and just about slopped over.

I borrowed the glass. Took a sip and winced. When I tried to hand it back to him, he waved it away. Someone came and took the drink from me so I could focus on Dalton. Cup his slender hips in my hands. Spread my thighs for him to stand between, as he seemed to like to do.

He kissed me. His lips tasted of gin. Like juniper and lemon. I sighed against his neck as I hugged him.

“I’m not drunk,” he said, tipping his head back to look up at me.

“No, you’re not,” I agreed, puzzled, because wasn’t that the point? To get rip-roaring drunk at one’s engagement party? But then, this was the first time I’d been at such a party, let alone had one thrown for me.

“Neither are you,” he said, pretending to be irritated about it.

“Why not?” I asked, intending the question to encompass both of us. Practically teetotaling it at our own engagement party.

“Because here’s the deal.” Dalton laughed under his breath. “We’re getting married in the morning.”

My eyebrows rose, but I didn’t question him. If he wanted to get married in the morning, then get married in the morning we would. We were just about sober. We’d be fine in a few hours.

I dug into his hips to pull him even tighter to me. Any closer and we would have been one body.

“Tell me.” I kissed his forehead and looked at him with all the possessiveness in my soul.