Page 16 of Burnin' For You
Pete laughed, shook his head. “I’m not either. I’m just not afraid to ask a woman to dance. Go—talk to her. What could it hurt?”
What could it hurt? How about him doing something stupid? He wasn’t like the other guys, especially Pete, or Jed. He couldn’t make a girl fall into his arms with a smile. More often, Reuben turned into a monosyllabic oaf next to the cute ones.
Cuteone.
Smalland cute, and for a second he had an image of trying to pull Gilly into his arms, inadvertently crushing her. She stood a probably eight inches shorter than he was, and he felt like a buffalo next to her. Worse, with those big blue eyes and beautiful dark auburn hair, he sort of forgot his own name when she walked into the room. Which meant he was bound to do something stupid, trip over himself, say something idiotic.
Hurt her.
Besides, even their meager teammate friendship meant enough to him to not want to screw it up.
Theywerefriends—proven by the fact that she often let him sit copilot just to soothe the angry bear of his temperamental gut. She didn’t betray him to Jed, or even Miles.
Not to mention that she held his life in her hands every time they went out on a jump—and most recently saved his hide from being barbecued.
So, yeah, someday hemightscrape up the courage to say something to her. But he wasn’t crazy enough to ask her to dance.
Which meant that, after he’d gotten his score, unbuckled his chaps, and headed into the Hotline for a cool drink, words left him when Gilly came sauntering into the saloon and grill with her sister, the way too vivacious Juliet.
Juliet could drive a man crazy with her cheery flirting. But for some reason, half the guys on the crew every summer fell for her smile, lining up to buy her a basket of O-rings, or even some filling the church pew on Sundays so they could walk her home later.
Nope. Reuben preferred a woman like Gilly, who didn’t need to flirt to have a man appreciate her smile, and—whoa, she had legs. Pete was right—Legs McGee.
Tan, muscular, beautiful legs shifting under that dress, tucked into cowboy boots.
And there went his brain, turning to mush.
He tore his gaze off her form as she walked in, down to the bar and stared into his half-empty beer.
The Hotline, the local hangout, buzzed with the stories of the season. Jude County hotshots released from shift were filtering in, settling in at the yellow picnic tables in the center of the room, waitresses delivering craft beers, baskets of curly fries, fresh grilled burgers. Pictures of past teams were rearranged to make room for this year’s crews.
On the dance floor, a band was setting up.
“Hey—can I ask you a favor?” The voice turned him and he smiled at Conner, sauntering over to him, holding his own frothy beer. “I’m going to head down to Kalispell this weekend, and I was hoping we could switch shifts. You could cover my shift coming up, I could take yours next week.” The former Green Beret wore a smile, wiping the froth from his upper lip.
His girlfriend, Liza, had survived a bear mauling only two weeks earlier and was still in rehab in Kalispell hospital.
“Of course,” Reuben said. “Except I was counting on my shift getting me out of having to go down to the ranch for Labor Day weekend. My mom is hounding me.”
“I love your mom,” Jed said from where he shot darts with Kate. “She makes the best chocolate chip cookies.”
“That’s what happens when you have five sons and two daughters,” Reuben said, wishing he could avoid the twinge of grief every time he thought of his family working the ranch without him.
But there was no room for him there, not anymore. His father had made that clear even before his sudden death.
Besides, Reuben had been born to jump fire, not herd cattle.
Maybe.
“To a season without a casualty.”
He looked up, and even Conner turned at the voice.
Juliet leaned on the bar, holding up a lemonade. “This is the kind of summer we all like to see.”
Reuben raised his glass, saw Gilly glance at him, give him a wry smile.
Heat filled his chest, his face, and he looked away.