“No, thanks, Skip,” she said, hoping to bring the subject to a close. “I’m really not interested.” There, that said it plainly enough.
“Are you afraid?”
“A little,” she admitted truthfully. “I prefer my horses on a merry-go-round. I’m a city girl, remember?”
“But even girls from San Francisco have been known to climb on the back of a horse. It’ll be good for you, Rorie. Trust me—it’s time to broaden your horizons.”
“Thanks, but no thanks,” she told him, emphasizing her point by biting down on a crisp carrot stick with a loud crunch.
“Rorie, I insist. You aren’t going to get hurt—I wouldn’t let that happen, and Rain Magic is as gentle as they come. In fact—” he wiggled his eyebrows up and down “—if you want, we can ride double until you feel more secure.”
Rorie laughed. “Skip, honestly.”
“All right, you can ride alone, and I’ll lead you around in a circle. For as long as you want.”
Rorie shook her head and, amused at the mental picture that scenario presented, laughed again.
“Leave it,” Clay said with sudden sharpness. “If Rorie doesn’t want to ride, drop it, okay?”
Skip’s shocked gaze flew from Rorie to his brother. “I was just having fun, Clay.”
His older brother gripped his water goblet so hard Rorie thought the glass might shatter. “Enough is enough. She said she wasn’t interested and that should be the end of it.”
The astounded look left Skip’s features, but his eyes narrowed and he stiffened his shoulders in a display of righteous indignation. “What’s with you, Clay?” he shouted. “You’ve been acting like a wounded bear all day, growling at everyone. Who made you king of the universe all of a sudden?”
“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll bring in the apple crisp,” Rorie said, and hurriedly rose to her feet, not wanting to be caught in the cross fire between the two brothers. Whatever they had to say wasn’t meant for her ears.
The exchange that followed ended quickly, Rorie noted gratefully from inside the kitchen. Their voices were raised and then there was a hush followed by laughter. Rorie relaxed and picked up the dessert, carrying it into the dining room along with a carton of vanilla ice cream.
“I apologize, Rorie,” Clay said soberly when she reentered the room. “Skip’s right, I’ve been cross and unreasonable all day. I hope my sour mood hasn’t ruined your dinner.”
“Of course not,” she murmured, giving him a smile.
Clay stood up to serve the dessert, spooning generous helpings of apple crisp and ice cream into each bowl.
Skip chattered aimlessly, commenting on one subject and then bouncing to another without any logical connection, his thoughts darting this way and that.
“What time are you going over to Kate’s tonight?” he casually asked Clay.
“I won’t be. She’s got some meeting with the women’s group from the Grange. They’re decorating for the dance tomorrow night.”
“Now that you mention it, I seem to remember Kate saying something about being busy tonight.” Without a pause he turned to Rorie. “You’ll be coming, I hope. The Grange is putting on a square dance—the biggest one of the year, and they usually do it up good.”
“Kate already invited me. I’ll be going with her,” Rorie explained, although she hadn’t the slightest idea how to square dance. Generally she enjoyed dancing, although she hadn’t gone for several months because Dan wasn’t keen on it.
“You could drive there with us if you wanted,” Skip offered. “I’d kinda like to walk in there with you on my arm. You’d cause quite a stir with the men, especially Luke Rivers—he’s the foreman at the Logan place. Most girls go all goo-goo-eyed over him.”
Clay’s spoon clanged loudly against the side of his glass dish and he murmured an apology.
“I’m sorry, Skip,” Rorie said gently. “I told Kate I’d drive over with her.”
“Darn,” Skip muttered.
The meal was completed in silence. Once, when Rorie happened to glance up, her eyes met Clay’s. Her heart felt as though it might hammer its way out of her chest. She was oppressively aware of the chemistry between them. It simmered in Rorie’s veins and she could tell that Clay felt everything she did. Throughout dinner, she’d been all too conscious of the swift stolen glances Clay had sent in her direction. She’d sent a few of her own, though she’d tried hard not to. But it was impossible to be in the same room with this man and not react to him.