“Yes, ma’am.” But he couldn’t. He wanted to know where she’d gone and what she’d done when she’d walked out. Who she was with. But the words stuck in his throat.
“So Casper is in a rehab unit?”
Dalton nodded. He’d wondered if she’d ask. “He can’t speak and refuses to work with the speech therapist. Which is why I don’t understand…never mind. My opinion won’t matter.”
“It does matter. Tell me.”
“Why are Brandt and Tell wasting time with him when it’s obvious he don’t want them there? They got pissed off at me today, like I was some callous—hell, they even called me selfish—a*shole for not wantin’ to sit in his room for hours on end watching him glare at the TV.”
“They’re there out of guilt.”
“But why? It ain’t like he’s gonna have a change of heart and become a completely different person.”
“It’s been known to happen with strokes. There’s part of your brothers that have always held hope for reconciliation.”
Dalton raised his eyebrows. “Meaning that Casper will wake up one day and have such remorse that he’ll try to make things right with his sons?”
She nodded. “They’ll never admit it out loud, but there’s still that boyish hope.” Her gaze encompassed his face. “You don’t have that same hope. And before you get defensive, the way you feel doesn’t make you callous. It makes you a realist. You’re different from your brothers, Dalton.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to ask how different.
“I know Casper has given you years of grief about that. Calling you…well, I won’t repeat it. Takes a stronger man to walk away from constant conflict. You did that.”
“According to some, that makes me a coward.”
“Bullshit.”
His gaze snapped back to hers.
“I’m a coward, for staying as long as I did after you boys were out of the house. I shoulda left him after you turned eighteen and moved out. I shoulda left him after Luke died when it became apparent we wouldn’t grieve our son together. The only reason I found the guts to do it at all was because of Brandt and Jessie. They deserved the happiness and love they found in each other.” She looked away. “I’ll admit I’m a big part of your dad’s bitterness. I felt staying with him was my penance for the way I trapped him into a marriage he didn’t want.”
They’d never talked about how or when his parents had met. “Have you talked to your counselor about how you’re still takin’ the blame?”
“Son, I willingly admit my part. Not all, but I’m not blameless.”
“I’m glad you’ve got your own life now.”
“There are times I miss the ranch.” She took a sip of water. “Did you miss it when you were traveling?”
“The people more than the place. Did I miss the work? No. Not because I’m lazy, but even the work dynamic changed when Jess and Georgia became involved. I did my own thing. Still got grief for it. Probably always will.”
“So how long will you be in Sundance?”
“No set time frame. A couple of things came up I need to handle. Truth is, I wasn’t looking forward to spending the entire winter in Montana. I hate the feeling of bein’ stuck. When it snows two feet at a time in the mountains, it’s unavoidable.”
“Would Rory Wetzler bein’ back in the area have anything to do with that decision?”
Dalton pushed his plate away. “Yep.”
She laughed. “That’s all I’m gonna get outta you?”
“Not much to tell.” He grinned. “Yet.”
“I see you haven’t lost the McKay charm in your world travels.”
His grin vanished. But his mother didn’t notice; she’d started picking up plates.
“So what would you like to do tonight?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I’m good hanging out.”
“What about going out? To a honky-tonk just up the road. Do a little dancin’. There’s a great band playing this week. You up for that?”
Dalton kept his shock in check. His mom wanted to go out dancing? Didn’t seem like her thing. Then again, she had a different life now and this was his chance to see her in action. Since he intended on taking Rory dancing soon, it’d do him good to brush up on his two-step skills. “I could be. Is your boyfriend gonna be there? ’Cause I don’t want you to ditch me in some strange bar so you two can suck face in the corner.”
“Dalton Patrick McKay! I would never do such a thing!”
He laughed. “Kiddin’, Ma. But I will need your help with something before I leave in the morning.”
Chapter Seven
Two knocks sounded on Rory’s office door.
She highlighted the section of proposed state regulations—easy to get lost in repetitive government double-speak—and said, “Come in.”
Glennis, the receptionist, poked her head in. “Rory? There’s a man out front who’d like to speak with you.”
She frowned. “Why didn’t you just send him back?”
“Well, ah…I wasn’t sure…” Glennis’s cheeks grew flushed.
Why was the receptionist blushing? Then Rory knew.
Dalton.
“The man in question looks like Charles Manson? Don’t let the crazy beard fool you. He’s harmless.”
Glennis appeared startled. “This guy doesn’t have a beard. And he insisted you come out to the reception area.”
Not Dalton after all. Not an unusual request, either. Some men she dealt with believed their questions about certain programs would be less official if they weren’t asked in her office. Made no sense, but mindsets around here were off center anyway.
Rory pushed back from her desk. “Thanks, Glennis. I’ll handle him.”
“I wouldn’t mind handling him,” Glennis muttered.
She headed down the hallway, her brain still mired in processing the morning’s paperwork. She glanced at the man standing in front of the windows with his broad back to her. Not that she minded; his rear view was excellent. Dark Cinch jeans—which she preferred to Wranglers—a black wool vest worn over a crisp white shirt and a black hat.
“Sir? You wished to see me?”
He turned around and Rory froze. Good thing she’d locked her knees or she might’ve ended up falling to them.
It was Dalton. Without a beard.
Holy, holy, holy crap.
She’d always considered him a level beyond cute in that baby-faced way, with his dimpled smile, big blue eyes and full lips. This Dalton…goddamn. He defined hot and rugged man—all man.
“Rory?” he asked softly.
She managed to eke out, “You got rid of the beard.”
Dalton rubbed his fingertips over his face. “Yeah, well, it feels weird.” He laughed self-consciously. “Probably looks weird too.”
“God, no. It looks…” F*cking fantastic.
Why don’t you just blurt out what a hottie he is?
He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to finish.
Flustered, she dropped her gaze and noticed he held flowers. She met his eyes again. “For me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He took a step closer. “To prove to you that I’ve changed.” His mouth brushed her ear. “So prepare yourself, darlin’. I’m gonna romance the hell out of you.”
“Here?” she whispered.
“Here, there and everywhere,” he murmured in that deliciously deep voice.
“Rory?” Glennis said somewhere behind her. “I’ve got an extra vase for those flowers if you need one.”
Rory had to stop herself from jumping away from Dalton like a guilty teen. “That would be great, Glennis.”
“If you wanna take Mr…?”
“McKay,” Rory inserted.
“Mr. McKay to your office, I’ll bring the vase to you.”
“Thanks.” Her gaze hooked Dalton’s. “If you’ll follow me.” She turned down the hallway. A few of her female coworkers poked their heads out as they passed by. Word spread fast in this office.
Dalton probably did that whole cowboy hat tip-nod thing that made women swoon.
I’ve changed.
Yeah, right. Rory whipped around to try and catch him in his charm-the-pants-off-every-woman-within-range act, but Dalton’s gaze was firmly on her ass. Nowhere else.
That shouldn’t have made her feel better, but it did.
Those big blue eyes met hers. “You caught me lookin’.”
No apology. No surprise. “Because you can’t keep your eyes off this sexy uniform?”
“It’s not clothes that make a woman sexy, Rory.”
She spun back around and cut through the copy center to reach her office. She’d intended to sit behind her desk, putting some space between them, but Glennis followed them in.
Talk about speedy.
Glennis set a vase already half-filled with water on the desk and handily plucked the flowers from Dalton.
Rory gave her an arch look at her uber-efficiency.
“I saw him with those and figured someone in this office was getting flowers. It’s my job to be prepared.” She left and shut the door.
She started to open the door, but Dalton intercepted her. “Leave it closed.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to talk to you in private.”
Before she could ask what he wanted to discuss, the ooh pretty! side of her brain focused on the hunky man flesh within touching distance. Almost without thinking, she placed her hands on his face. His skin was so warm and smooth. And he smelled amazing.
“Damn you, McKay. You should’ve kept this good-looking mug of yours covered up under that ugly fur.”
“What? I shaved it because you said you didn’t like it.”
He’d shaved it off for her? Her fingers traced the edge of his strong jaw. His cheekbones. The dimple in his right cheek.