While Luke appeared to contemplate Richard’s words, Wyatt asked, “Is there anyone here you lost money on?”
“Sure. JoAnne was a shock. I pegged her as a leave and never come back girl.”
“I don’t think she had much of a choice,” Luke said.
“Everyone has a choice.”
Wyatt scanned the crowd, his eyes finally finding the reason he was there.
She was wearing a little black dress, the kind that hugged a woman’s curves and made a man’s mouth water. From the heads she turned, his wasn’t the only mouth watering. Zoe was dressed in red that offset her olive skin and drew a whistle from the man at his side. Beside the two was the third of the female musketeers. Jo skipped the dress and wore slacks. Still, she was more dressed up than Wyatt had ever seen her. If he had to guess, her friends insisted on the outfit. Still, the woman walked like a cop, her eyes darting around the room in constant motion.
“Looks like our sheriff found her posse.” Richard lifted the drink to his lips, smiled over the glass.
Wyatt felt Melanie’s eyes and met them. She unleashed a slow smile that illuminated the room. When Wyatt lifted his beer in salute, she nodded and pointed to Zoe and Jo.
“I think that means you’re buying the ladies drinks, Wyatt.”
He reached for his wallet and nudged Luke. “Next round is on you.”
A couple of minutes later the two of them wiggled through the crowd, double fisted with drinks.
“Why thank you.” Melanie offered a wink. “How did you know?”
Luke leaned in. “Subtle, Mel . . . real subtle.”
“We wouldn’t want the wrong men buying us drinks this early in the evening,” Zoe said.
Jo laughed. “I don’t usually have that problem.”
“You have got to come visit me in Dallas. And leave your badge behind. The men will line up to pinch your ass and buy you drinks.”
Jo rolled her eyes. “I’d probably put them in a choke hold and cuff them.”
“They might like that,” Wyatt added.
When their laughter slowed so did the music, and Wyatt moved in. “So, Melanie . . . about that dance you owe me.”
She blinked a few times, a blush rose on her cheeks. “What dance?”
“My fee for rescuing little girls off rooftops.”
Wyatt took the liberty of removing the beer from her hand and setting it on the high-top table before leading her away.
The curve of her hip met his hand as he faced her on the dance floor. They swayed a few times before she spoke. “Smooth, Wyatt. Using my kid to score a dance.”
He turned her around and noticed Jo watching from the sidelines. “I could have used my roadside rescue skills as an excuse.”
“You could have just asked.”
“You could have said no.” He liked his deck stacked, thank you very much.
“I could have said yes.”
He leaned back slightly and looked in her eyes. Her smiling eyes.
“You could have.” He turned her again, happy to feel her follow his lead. “Now that you know I won’t trample your feet, you’re much more likely to agree to future dances.”
She kept her eyes on his. “Is that confidence or cockiness?”
“Both. I can dance, no need to pretend I can’t.”
“Not that you get a lot of practice in River Bend.”
Wyatt turned her again, this time moving her away with a push and spinning her once before bringing her back. “You’d be surprised. Fourth of July is always a celebration. Founder’s Day. Every holiday has some kind of festival . . . or have you forgotten?”
He kept her moving while they talked. He scented lemon on her skin and committed it to memory.
“And how many women in River Bend have you shown your talents to?” she asked.
“My talents?”
She blushed. “Dancing talents?” She pushed against his shoulder. “I already know you don’t date the women in town.”
“Is that right? How would you know that?”
When she glanced over his shoulder, he pulled her closer. The sheer fabric of her dress nothing but a thin layer between them. He had to give serious thought to their conversation.
“Jo told me.”
“Oh, so you’re asking your friends about me?”
“Of course. You’re hitting on me. I have to make sure you’re really not Jack the Ripper.”
“Not a lot of prostitutes in River Bend. I’d be out of business if my name was Jack.”
He took pleasure in making Melanie laugh.
The song ended, along with their dance. His hand held the small of her back as they made their way off the dance floor.
No sooner had he wrapped his hand around his beer when Zoe grabbed his arm. “So, Wyatt . . . about that dance you owe me.”
“What dance?” He heard Melanie’s words coming from his mouth.
“This one.” Zoe dragged him away from their group. The music had turned fast, but Zoe pushed close enough to talk. “Melanie is one of my best friends,” Zoe stated the obvious.
Wyatt felt the inquisition beginning and let it roll. “You seem tight.”
“We are. But I have to tell ya, I kick myself all the time for not telling her what a shit her ex was.”
“You met him?”
“Once. Between that and Mel’s stories . . . he’s a shit.”
They moved beside each other, not touching, and not keeping beat with the music.
“Well—”
Zoe didn’t give him time to talk.
“I won’t do it again. If I see any red flags, I’m going to speak up.”