Chapter:   Cover 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16

Dance In My Heart

Chapter Six

Hawk seated Candice at a small table in the center of the crowded diner, then took the seat opposite for himself and grabbed the menu. He’d spent nearly an hour with the three boys who came to see him while she perused the hoop dancing books he’d loaned her.

He still felt tense. He admitted to himself it wasn’t his guilt alone which made him stiff with tension. He still wanted her. Were they alone right now, he would take on the tabletop. He really should be taken out and shot.

“Thank you for the books,” she offered.

“No problem.”

“You’re not still upset about this weekend, are you?”

“Who me? Nah. I’m a rock.”

She laughed. “Good. Because you didn’t offend me in the least. I know how these things work.”

How these things work? He hated her thinking of him like that. He’d never had a one-night stand in his life. Not that he hadn’t had the opportunity, but he was raised better than that. Women were something to be treasured, not used. And he’d used her. Given the chance, he couldn’t swear he wouldn’t do it again.

The light, spilling from the picture windows behind her, cast a halo effect around her golden hair. She looked like an angel and he’d treated her like a whore.

“So what’s good here?”

He cleared his throat before answering and shifted his position in the chair. His entire body ached to hold her, one very specific aching part of his body wanted to do more than that. “The turkey club, or if you have a real appetite, the chili burger is good too.”

“Hey girly, whatcha doing here with Tonto. You his parole officer?”

Hawk’s body tensed for a whole new reason at the slur. He fisted his hands, nearly ripping the menu he held in his white knuckled grip.

To her credit, Candice ignored the remarks and continued to scan her own menu.

“Hey, I’m talking to you!”

Hawk sensed her lack of comfort. She had no idea what to do, he reckoned. She’d probably never been faced with this sort of blatant racism in her whole, sheltered, white existence.

“Just ignore him. That’s Wiley Cotton. He’s an asshole.”

She swallowed, and replied with a barely perceptible nod. “We can go somewhere else?”

“I don’t run from assholes.”

She leveled her gaze on him and he felt the impact of her eyes to his core. “But it bothers you.”

It wasn’t a question. How did she see inside him like that? The connection they shared unnerved him, but he couldn’t lie. “Eya’. Yes, it bothers me.”

The waitress stopped by Wiley’s table before she came to take their order. “I’m sorry about that Mike. You want me to give him the boot?”

“No, Leslie. It’s okay. I wouldn’t want to cost you your tip,” he smiled at the woman he’d known since high school. “I’ll have a chili burger and a Coors. And for the lady?” He looked at Candice and noticed her eyes misted as she studied the menu like it was the missing Dead Sea Scroll.

“A salad,” she completed for him, her voice hoarse. “And a Diet Coke with lemon?”

“Sure thing, hon. Dressing?”

“Vinegar and oil, please.”

When she handed the menu to Leslie, the laminated card-stock shook wildly. Candice put her hands in her lap and glanced at him. “I’m sorry. I’m being silly.”

“No, you’re not. But don’t worry about it. His bark is worse than his bite.”

“How do you put up with something like that? I mean, I’ve covered stories from Moscow to the Middle East, and I’ve never seen anything so vicious.”

“You’ve been lucky. This is nothing, Candy. Really. Ignore him.”

“You must be the most laid back guy I’ve ever met. Does nothing rile you?”

“Sure. Lots of things.”

Men who take advantage of lonely woman and skulk off into the night without so much as the proverbial ‘thank-you ma’am’, for instance.

“Like what?”

“Let’s see. This week, it’s the unemployment rate on the res. We’re up to eighty-nine point four percent this month. And then there’s the teen pregnancy rate. That’s down to eighty-four percent. I’m saving my temper-tantrum about alcoholism until next month.”

“Is it that bad?”

Their drinks arrived and she took the wrapper off her straw. She used the straw to sink the lemon wedge in her coke before she took a sip.

“It’s getting better,” he shrugged. “This is the seventh generation. A time for change and prosperity. The new kids, the one’s coming up now, are smarter than their parents and grandparents. I’m hoping within a few years, things will really start to change.”

“So what exactly do you do?”

“Like the fake gold plastic on the door said. I’m a social worker.”

“Okay, so you take children away from their parents and you’re the safe-sex poster child.”

Her reminder of their liaison sent a tremble down his spine. He did his best to ignore the continued pulsing in his groin. “I don’t take children from their parents unless I have to. Most of the time, we can change a few habits and return the child to her home. But sometimes, yeah. Sometimes, just like in the rest of the world, the child is placed permanently. Mostly, I co-ordinate youth activities, sponsor education workshops, counsel the kids and their parents. That sort of thing.”

“What kind of activities?”

Leslie placed a large salad in front of Candice. He shifted his weight back and took his elbows off the table so she could set his chili burger in front of him. He lifted the top bun and removed most of the chili before he replaced it and took a bite.

“Lots of things. Last month, we took the youth group rock-climbing. The month before, we went to the Mall of the Americas.”

“That sounds like fun.”

“I guess so.”

“It wasn’t?”

He suddenly wished he hadn’t brought it up. Two of his female teen-age charges had been caught up in a scuffle at the movie theater and suffered more taunting insults than Wiley’s limited brain could ever come up with. The girls had cried nearly the whole trip home. He’d done his best to console them, but he couldn’t take the burning impression of the local boys’ hands off of them. Where did these kids learn this shit? Sexual assault at the age of fifteen was inexcusable.

“No. It was great,” he lied. He’d already shattered Candice’s illusions more than enough for one afternoon. She didn’t need to hear about something this dirty.

“You’re lying, but that’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.”

He looked into her eyes. He still couldn’t figure out how she knew so much of him. But then, he’d always been a lousy liar.

They finished the remainder of the meal in friendly silence.

Candice pushed her nearly empty plate away, and reached for her wallet with trembling hands. Her mind whirled with the memories of his expert touch and nimble fingers. Her pulse raced in a cadence reminiscent of the drums he’d danced to on Saturday. It was as if he danced in her heart.

“Put your money away. I’ve got it.”

He placed a twenty-dollar bill on the table and reached for her hand, apparently to help her to her feet. He threw a wave at Leslie, the waitress.

“See ya later, Mike,” she called from behind the register.

“She seems nice,” Candice offered. “Have you known her long?”

“Since high school.”

Candice weighed the possibility that they had dated, surprised at how much she didn’t appreciate the possibility. A hand reached out and held her arm, stealing her wayward thoughts back to her surroundings. She looked at the hand and followed the large arm with her eyes until she glared into the face of Wiley Cotton.

“Whatcha gonna leave with him for? You his squaw woman?”

“Let her go, Wiley,” Hawk spat from her side. “Now.”

Wiley’s expression turned ominous, but he did release her arm. Gaining his feet, he matched Hawk’s height, but his girth boasted too much beer instead of solidly packed muscle.

“It’s okay, Hawk. Let’s just leave.” Tension grew in her belly as he watched the two men face each other, one man’s expression as deadly as the other. They wouldn’t fight right here in the diner. Would they?

“You better do as she says, Tonto. ‘Fore you get hurt.”

“Shut up, Wiley,” a man shouted from the door. Candice’s eyes instinctively shot in the direction of the newcomer.

A uniformed sheriff’s deputy stood in silhouette as the heavy metal and glass door eased closed behind him. The deputy continued speaking as he removed a pair of wire rimmed sunglasses. “I mean it Wiley. Not another sound, or I’ll take you in.”

“On what charge, Carl. Speaking?”

“On whatever charge I damn well please. Now sit back down.” To Candice, he said, “Miss? If you were on your way out, I suggest you continue on your way.”

Candice raised her face to Hawk’s, searching his eyes for his intentions. She may not know him well, but she’d been around men enough to know each one had his limit of patience. Had Hawk reached his?

“Go on. I’ll be out in a minute. I’ll meet you at your car.”

As she stepped away from Wiley and Hawk, the deputy pushed the door open.

The diner, rife with tension, grew increasingly silent as patrons caught on to what was happening at the booth by the door.

Hawk closed his fists at his sides. Wiley Cotton was hardly worth his time or his energy. He’d never before allowed his bigotry and ignorance to get under his skin quite like this. But when he’d touched Candice, Hawk thought he would explode. He sensed Carl’s slow approach and reluctantly turned his gaze to his old friend.

“Your lady friend is waiting.”

The words were more than a statement. They were Carl’s invitation for Hawk to leave the diner.

He would leave. He’d been on his way out anyway. He gritted his teeth and stared into Wiley’s eyes as he spoke to Carl. “I’m going. But if he touches her again, I’ll kill him.”

He stalked out of the diner, his temper raw and callused. Where the hell had that come from? He’d just threatened a man’s life in front of a law enforcement officer. That would look terrific on his resume.

Candice sat behind the wheel of her car, cranking the engine. He slid into the seat beside her. She stopped turning the key and shifted her weight to better face him.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m great. How are you?”

She smiled. He was being an ass, and he knew it. She took his tense demeanor in stride, though. Most women would tell him to shove it, but she seemed to sympathize with him. Just being this close to her made everything better.

She reached over and patted his thigh before turning the key one last time. The engine roared to life and she pointed them back to the reservation. If he had any hope of escaping the invisible net she threw to him, he needed her to leave. Soon.

Only one problem with that plan. He didn’t want her to go anywhere. Except, maybe back to bed.

 

©2006 Romance at Heart Magazine.

Book ©2003 by Margorie Jones.

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