And yet, even though she knew she could have left his farm at any moment, somehow that hadn’t been an option. Sweetpea still needed her, of course, but on top of that, Lori still didn’t have anything to go back to...and she couldn’t bear to face her family and friends like this.
They all thought she was invincible.
It was one thing for Grayson to be disappointed in her. It was another entirely for the people who loved her to feel that way.
Grayson swept his dark gaze over her again before saying, “If you show up with me at the barn dance looking like that, people are going to talk.”
The word dance grabbed her gut and twisted it. Hard enough that she lost her breath and her balance for a minute, and had to reach out to grab a beam to steady herself.
“Why would you want me to go anywhere with you? I thought we agreed to keep to ourselves from here on out.”
He shrugged. “I’ve been alone on this farm long enough that people are starting to think I’m fair game. If you’re there, they’ll stop thinking that.”
“People? Fair game?” She finally realized what he was talking about. “You mean women?”
“Yes.” He gritted out the word between teeth that were clenched even tighter than she’d previously thought.
“So if you go to this barn—” She didn’t even want to say the word. “—thing without me, you’ll be subjected to pretty little ladies throwing themselves at you left and right?”
“Be ready at six,” he said without bothering to answer her snarky question.
He was already walking away when she said, “Why should I?”
She wasn’t sure she liked the look in his eyes when he turned to face her. “I’ve let you hide out here on my farm all week, that’s why.”
She could no longer argue with him about the hiding out part, but she could take issue with the fact that he was acting like she’d been a freeloader. And she was sick to death of men who thought they could take her accomplishments down a peg. “I’ve been working hard, not just lying on the grass in a bikini asking you to crank up the blender for my next drink refill.” She could only imagine the fit Grayson would have pitched if she’d done that. “I know I screwed up some things at first, but I’ve been doing a great job since then.”
He moved closer, close enough that her heartbeat kicked into overdrive. “If you’re that afraid to go to the dance, just tell me and I’ll let you off the hook.”
The challenge in his words reverberated through every last cell in her body despite how softly he’d uttered them. And this time she was the one gritting her teeth so hard she nearly cracked her molars.
“I’ll see you at six.”
Fury had Lori weeding like a fiend for the rest of the afternoon, but she didn’t get any satisfaction out of the ground she covered. Not when she was too busy planning how to make Grayson regret he’d ever made that challenge to her.
Oh, she’d dance all right. With every man in town but him. And she’d make sure that he was the perfect target for every single woman within a hundred miles of Pescadero.
At five o’clock she locked herself in the bathroom with her war chest. For nearly her whole life, she’d depended on the contents of this bag—makeup, lotions, nail polish, blow dryer, curling iron—in the same way that she’d needed food and sleep. But for one whole week she hadn’t so much as unzipped the bag. It was at once comforting and familiar...and strange. She loved the way she felt when she looked good, yet there had been surprising freedom in not caring one way or the other.
She took out everything and laid it along the small counter. She grinned at the way her girly things immediately took over every possible surface in his bathroom, and how irritated Grayson would be if she left it all for him after she was gone.
With that happily evil thought cheering her, she stripped off her grimy clothes and stepped into the shower. The hot spray felt great on her overworked muscles, the water turning from brown to clear as she soaped up and washed the dirt from her skin, from her hair, from beneath her fingernails. She took extra care to shave her legs from ankle to hip, slicking lotion over her entire body before she got out of the shower.
She had no intention of letting any man benefit from the softness of her skin tonight, but Grayson didn’t need to know that.
It was as natural as breathing for her to do her hair and makeup and to paint her nails. Maybe, she found herself thinking, that was what she’d do now that her dancing career was over. She could open up a small salon somewhere far away from here and help other women feel better about themselves. It wasn’t what she had dreamed of doing her whole life, but it would be better than nothing.
When she was finished primping, she wrapped herself in a towel and left the bathroom. Grayson wasn’t even in the house, as far as she could tell. It figured that he wanted her to put all sorts of effort into looking good, but he’d probably just put on a new pair of jeans and clean pair of boots and be ready inside of thirty seconds.
She’d left her luggage open on her bed and now she pulled out a red dress made up entirely of satin and sequins. The straps were thin and it was almost completely backless, ending just above the curve of her hips. She’d danced in outfits with far less material than this dress, but she could easily guess that it would be the most inappropriate outfit ever for a barn dance.
Yes, she decided as she slipped it on, that was what made it so perfect. As were the four-inch spike heels she slipped on next. Where most women could barely have walked in them, Lori could dance all night without any problems at all.
And she would, damn it, just to spite Grayson.
* * *
Grayson looked at his watch: 6:15 p.m. Lori was late, which came as no surprise given that she’d been locked in her bedroom for over an hour now.
Just the idea of the barn dance had him feeling out of sorts, but he knew he had to do it for her. Because he owed Lori something more than an apology for the way he’d behaved. For the things he’d said.
Only, when she finally stepped out of the bedroom, all thoughts of apologies scattered.
“What the hell are you wearing?”
He hadn’t seen a dress like that in years—blood-red satin and sequins that perfectly showcased the curves he hadn’t been able to get out of his head. The skirt was higher in the front than it was in the back and swished around her ridiculously gorgeous legs as she moved toward him in heels so high she actually came up past his chin now.