Page 9 of His Tenth Dance

Mission twisted the knob, glad when Kristie moved to the side so he could leave. If he had to keep breathing in her tangerine-scented perfume and be tempted by those curves, he had no idea what he’d say or do.

“You’ve already proven you’ll say and do anything,” he muttered to himself as he left the medical barn. He’d only taken a few steps toward the party when another set of footsteps joined his.

Kristie.

She didn’t touch him, and Mission sternly told himself not to reach for her. Everyone he knew and loved had come to this party, and he couldn’t be seen walking in hand-in-hand with a woman who still barely seemed to like him.

Wouldn’t let him come pick her up. They could meet somewhere.

He scoffed out of the side of his mouth as he rejoined the party, immediately deviating from Kristie’s side as he went back to the buffet line and picked up a new paper plate. Mission kept his head down as he loaded a second plate with food, and he returned to the table, where Granddad was now surrounded by Hammonds.

Tucker, Deacon, Hunter, Gray. The five of them laughed about something, and they all looked to Mission as he pulled out a chair and sat down.

“I’m so glad you’re going to be at the reins,” Gray said, his heart of gold shining for all to see.

“I’ll do my best, sir,” Mission said, and the words sounded like a growl to his own ears.

“Hey, brother.” Tarr Olson sat down beside Mission, a blue-wrapped present nearly landing in his potato salad. “I got you something.”

Mission scooped a bite of mayo-mustardy potato salad into his mouth and set down his fork. He chewed quickly and swallowed. “You didn’t need to get me anything.”

“There’s a whole table of gifts,” Hunter said.

Horror moved through Mission, and he didn’t dare pick up the long, rectangular gift Tarr had brought. He swung his attention to Hunt. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m so not.” He nodded with his cowboy hat back over toward the corner of the administration building. “Tarr must’ve missed it on his way in.”

“Tarr misses a lot of things lately,” Tuck teased, and that earned him a glare from the former rodeo star. “You should ask him why.”

“Why’s that?” Deacon asked without missing a beat. He barely looked up from his plate of food as he spoke, and he didn’t look at Tarr.

Everyone else had focused on him, though, Mission included. Tarr glared at Tuck, who continued to eat, his grin as wide as ever.

“You don’t have to say,” Mission said, shooting a look over to Tuck. “Not everyone likes to spill everything. Some of us like to keep things a little closer to the vest.”

Deacon looked up then. “You have things you need to keep close to the vest?”

“No,” Mission said at the same time Tarr said, “Leave the man alone. It’s his first day on the job.”

“Then divert the attention back to you,” Tuck said. “Oh, he’s not gonna say anything, so I will.” He picked up a chocolate chip cookie, giving Tarr a place to cut him off.

He didn’t. In fact, Tarr picked up a potato chip and popped it into his mouth. He chewed slowly as Tuck dragged out the silence.

Finally, he said, “He’s dating a woman named Casey.”

“He’s dating?” Deacon asked, no inflection in his voice. “That’s what you’re worked up about?” He rolled his eyes and reached for his napkin. He wiped his mouth and beard and added, “Tarr dates a lot. This is not a national event.”

“It would be if you started dating someone,” Hunter said.

Deacon’s eyes flew to his oldest brother’s. His shoulders deflated as he huffed out his breath. “Hunt. I expect such a statement from Tuck, but you? You wound me.”

“Why don’t you date someone?” Tucker asked.

“Because I haven’t met anyone I care to spend more than fifteen minutes with,” Deacon said dryly. “Present company included.” He got to his feet, threw Hunter a glare, and tossed his napkin on his now-empty plate.

“Deac, don’t go,” Hunter said. “I’m sorry.”

Deacon grunted as he turned and walked away, and Hunter frowned at his back, and then over to Tucker. “He’s right; Tarr dates a lot. I thought you were going to have real news.”

---