Diana Palmer Texan Lovers: Calhoun / Justin / Tyler / Sutton's Way / Ethan / Connal

By the time she got to the house, she felt sick all over, but a plan was beginning to form in her mind. If Calhoun thought she was giving in that easily, he was in for a shock. She could have a good time, too, even if she didn’t have a date. By golly, she’d get out and find herself one!

Chapter Three (#u541de333-9504-5525-9a5d-f86cb82825f9)

Abby ate a solitary meal. Justin was called to the phone shortly after they got home, and he told Maria to put his dinner on a tray so he could eat it while he watched the movie he’d bought. Calhoun had come home to change for his date, and Abby had made a beeline for her room and stayed there until after he’d left. She didn’t even care how it looked; she was sick at the thought of Calhoun with some faceless blonde. That was when she knew she had to break out, even if just for the evening.

She hadn’t started out to rebel. But she couldn’t sit home and watch the movie with Justin. She’d never hear a word of it; she’d just brood about Calhoun.

So she got dressed in slacks and a blouse and brushed her hair. Then she called Misty.

“How do you feel about helping me rebel?” she asked the older girl.

Misty laughed huskily. “You’re lucky my date canceled out. Okay. I’m game. What are we rebelling against?”

“Calhoun caught me at the revue last night and dragged me home,” Abby told her. “And today he…Well, never mind, but he set me off again. So tonight I thought I’d like to sample that new dance bar in Jacobsville.”

“Now that is an idea worthy of you, Abby. I’ll pick you up in fifteen minutes.”

“I’ll be ready.”

Abby ran downstairs, giving no thought at all to how Calhoun was going to react to this latest rebellion. Well, he had his woman, damn him. Horrible pictures of his bronzed body in bed with the faceless blonde danced in front of Abby’s eyes. No, she told herself, she wasn’t going to let Calhoun’s actions hurt her like that. She was going to get out and live!

She poked her head into the living room. Cigarette smoke drifted in front of a screen on which men in uniforms were blowing each other up.

“I’m going out with Misty,” she told Justin.

He glanced up from where he was sitting. His long legs were crossed over the coffee table, and he had a snifter of brandy in one hand and a cigarette in the other. “Okay, honey,” he said agreeably. “Stay out of trouble, will you? You and Calhoun are hell on the digestion lately, and he doesn’t seem to need much excuse to go for your throat.”

“I’ll behave. Misty and I are just going to that new dance place. I’ll be good, honest I will. Good night.”

“Good night.”

He went back to the bullets and bombs, and she closed the door with a sigh. Justin was so nice. He never tried to hog-tie her. Now why couldn’t Calhoun be like that? She felt murderous when she considered Calhoun’s possessiveness. She was entitled to a life that didn’t revolve around him. There was just no sense in wearing her heart out on his taciturn indifference. None at all!

Misty came ten minutes later. Thank God, Calhoun didn’t reappear. With a sigh of relief, Abby ran out to Misty’s little sports car, all smiles, her breaking heart carefully concealed from her all-too-perceptive girlfriend.

It was Friday night, and the Jacobsville Dance Palace was booming. It had a live Western band on the weekends, and while it did serve hard liquor, it wasn’t the kind of dive Calhoun had forbidden her to frequent. Not that she cared one whit about his strictures, of course.

Abby glanced apprehensively toward the doorway, across the crowded room where cigar and cigarette smoke made a gray haze under bright lights. The band’s rhythm shook the rafters. Couples danced on the bare wood floor, the men in Western gear, the women in jeans and boots.

“Calhoun won’t know you’re here, I tell you.” Misty laughed softly. “Honestly, it’s ridiculous the way he dogs your footsteps lately.”

“That’s what I keep telling him, but it does no good at all,” Abby replied miserably. “I just want to get out on my own.”

“I’m doing my best,” Misty assured her. “Any day now I’ll have some new apartment prospects for us to look at. I’ve got a real estate agent helping.”

“Good.” Abby sipped her drink, trying not to notice the blatant stare she was getting from the man at the next table. He’d been eyeing her ever since she and Misty had walked in, and he was giving her the willies. He looked about Calhoun’s age, but he lacked Calhoun’s attractive masculinity. This man was dark headed and had a beer belly. He wasn’t much taller than Abby, but what he lacked in height he made up in girth. He had a cowboy hat pulled low over his small eyes, and he was obviously intoxicated.

“He’s staring at me again,” Abby muttered. She lifted her gin and tonic to her lips, wondering at how much better it tasted every time she took a sip. She hated gin, but Misty had convinced her that she couldn’t sit at the table drinking ginger ale.

“Don’t worry,” Misty patted her arm. “He’ll give up and go away. There’s Tyler! Hi, Ty!”

Tyler Jacobs was tall and rangy-looking. He had green eyes and an arrogant smile, and Abby was a little afraid of him. But he didn’t carry his wealth around on his shoulders as some rich men did, and he wasn’t a snob, even though the town of Jacobsville took its name from his grandfather.

“Hello, Misty. Abby.” Tyler pulled out a chair and straddled it. “What are you doing here? Does Calhoun know?” he asked quietly.

Abby shifted restlessly in the chair and raised her glass to her lips again. “I am perfectly capable of drinking a drink if I want to,” she said, enunciating carefully because her tongue suddenly felt thick. “And Calhoun doesn’t own me.”

“Oh, my God,” Tyler sighed. He gave Misty a rueful glance. “Your doing, I gather?”

Misty blinked her long false lashes at Tyler, and her blue eyes twinkled. “I provided transportation, that’s all. Abby is my friend. I’m helping her to rebel.”

“You’ll help get her killed if you aren’t careful. Where’s Calhoun?” he asked Abby.

“Out with one of his harem,” she said with a mocking smile. “Not that I mind, as long as he’s out of my hair for the evening,” she added carelessly.

“He dragged her out of line at the male revue last night at the Jacobsville theater,” Misty explained. “We’re getting even.”

Tyler’s eyes widened. “You tried to see a male strip show? Abby!”

Abby glared at him. “Where else do you expect me to get educated? Calhoun wants me to wear diapers for the rest of my life. He doesn’t think I’m old enough to go on dates or walk across the street alone.”

“You’re like a kid sister to him,” Tyler said, defending his friend. “He doesn’t want you to get hurt.”

“I can get hurt if I like,” Abby grumbled. Her eyes closed. She was feeling worse by the second, but she couldn’t let on. Tyler was as bad as the Ballenger brothers. He’d have her out of here like a shot if he thought she was sick.

“What are you drinking?” Tyler asked, staring at her glass.

“Gin and tonic,” she replied, opening her eyes. “Want some?”

“I don’t drink, honey,” Tyler reminded her with a slow smile. “Well, I’ve got to pick up Shelby at the office. She had to work late tonight. Watch out for Abby, Misty.”

“Of course I will. Sure you won’t stay and dance with me?” Misty asked.

Tyler got up, his eyes worried as they trailed over Abby’s wan face. “Sorry. I don’t usually have to get Shelby, but her car was in the shop today and they didn’t finish with it.”

“Lucky Shelby, to have a brother like you,” Abby mumbled. “I’ll bet you don’t have a kamikaze pilot fly behind her when she goes to work, or a gang of prizefighters to walk her home after dark, or a whole crew of off-duty policemen to fend off her suitors….”

“Oh, boy,” Tyler sighed.

“Don’t worry,” Misty told him. “She’s fine. She’s just miffed at Calhoun, that’s all. Although how anybody could get upset at a dishy man like that being so protective—”

“Dishy isn’t a word I’d use to describe Calhoun if he finds Abby like that and thinks you’re responsible for it,” Tyler cautioned. “Have you ever seen him get angry?”

Misty pushed back her curly hair uncomfortably. “Justin’s temper is worse,” she reminded him.

Tyler lifted an eyebrow. “Don’t be so sure. They’re cut from the same cloth.” He touched Abby’s shoulder. “Don’t drink any more of that.” He gestured toward her drink.

“Whatever you say, Ty,” Abby said, smiling. “Good night.”