Page 48 of Wyoming Tough

Morie laid her head on Shelby’s shoulder. “I fell in love.”

“Really!”

“He was a beast. He had a girlfriend who was pretending to be something she’s not. She had someone plant a jeweled egg in my rucksack and went to the boss and told him I stole it from him. So he fired me. I came home. End of story.”

“He accused you of theft?” she exclaimed.

“Yes. He said he wouldn’t call the sheriff, but he fired me.”

Shelby’s dark eyes flashed. “We’ll sue him for defamation of character!”

“No, you won’t,” Morie said calmly. “It would be useless. That woman set me up. I can’t prove it, but I know she did it. He believed her,” she added with a pointed look at her mother. “No man who loved a woman would ever convict her on circumstantial evidence, no matter how damning it was.”

Shelby drew in a long breath. In a minute, she nodded. “If that’s the way you want it.”

“Please don’t tell Daddy.”

Shelby grimaced. “I have to tell him something.”

“Then embroider it a little, can’t you?” She knew that her parents never had secrets from each other. She envied them their closeness. She felt now that she’d never have anyone to share secrets with.

“I’ll soft-pedal it,” Shelby promised. “But I don’t like it. You’re no thief.”

“We know it. We don’t have to prove it to anyone.”

“That’s true enough. But I’d like to jerk a knot in your boss, and his girlfriend,” Shelby added. She wasn’t a fiery woman, but she did have a temper.

Morie hugged her. “Thanks.”

“You’re my daughter. I love you.” She kissed her cheek. She frowned. “What in the world happened to your face?”

“Just a scratch. I was moving a tree branch and it shifted. It’s only a surface one. It will heal nicely, you’ll see. Now how about a nice piece of broiled fish with herbs and butter? Please?”

Shelby laughed. “All right. Just for you. A homecoming present. I’m glad you’re back.”

“Yes.” Morie sighed as she looked around at familiar things. “So am I.”

CHAPTER NINE

MORIE THREW HERSELFinto helping Shelby with details for the big production sale. In between, she had to cope with her father’s matchmaking. Daryl Coleman was tall and dark and quite good-looking. His family had huge feedlots in Northern Texas and Daryl himself was CEO of an oil company that was based in Oklahoma. He was savvy about technical innovations and a whiz with computers. He had everything a woman could have wanted. He just wasn’t Mallory Kirk.

But he liked Morie and he was always around. After Mallory’s suspicion and alternating hot-and-cold treatment, Daryl was a breath of fresh air. He had exquisite manners and he loved to dance. So did Morie. It was one of the things she loved most in life.

Daryl flew her to Dallas in the corporate jet that his family had shares in, and took her to an authentic Latin dance club.

“So you want to learn to tango,” he told her with a grin. “This is the place to learn.”

“I’m not keen on it,” she mumbled, looking around. “It looks a whole lot easier in movies.”

“None of the movies it’s in are authentic,” he assured her. He took her right hand in his left one and rested his free hand on her waist. “Tango is a battle between a man and a woman. It’s quick and slow, insistent and sensuous. Most of it is footwork. Just follow my lead. You’re an excellent dancer. This should be easy for you.”

“Easy!” she scoffed after she’d stumbled into him three times and almost upset a waiter with a tray of drinks headed for the restaurant at the other end of the club. No alcohol was allowed near the dance floor itself.

He chuckled. “You’re rusty, kid,” he teased. “You’ve been spending too much time around cattle and not enough around attractive, dashing men like me.”

She looked up at his good looks and twinkling dark eyes and burst out laughing. “And so modest!”

“I’m modest. After all, I have so much to be modest about,” he assured her.

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