A Little Bit Country: A Little Bit Country / Blackberry Summer

Clay’s mouth thinned, but he still didn’t look at her. “Are you in love with him?”

“No.”

Lowering his head, Clay rubbed his hand over his eyes. “I had no right to ask you that. None. Forgive me, Rorie.” Then, clutching his papers, he stalked out of the office without a backward glance.

Rorie was so shaken by the encounter that when she went back to her typing, she made three mistakes in a row and had to stop to regain her composure.

When the phone rang, she ignored it, knowing Mary or one of the men would answer it. Soon afterward, she heard running footsteps behind her and swivelled around in the chair.

A breathless Skip bolted into the room. Shoulders heaving, he pointed in the direction of the telephone. “It’s for you,” he panted.

“Me?” It could only be Dan.

He nodded several times, his hand braced theatrically against his heart.

She picked up the extension. “Hello,” she said, her fingers closing tightly around the receiver. “This is Rorie Campbell.”

“Miss Campbell,” came the unmistakable voice of George, the mechanic in Riversdale, “let me put it to you like this. I’ve got good news and bad news.”

“Now what?” she cried, pushing her hair off her forehead with an impatient hand. She had to get out of Elk Run.

“My man picked up the water pump for your car in Portland just like we planned.”

“Good.”

George sighed heavily. “There’s a minor problem, though.”

“Minor?” she repeated hopefully.

“Well, not that minor actually.”

“Oh, great... Listen, George, I’d prefer not to play guessing games with you. Just tell me what happened and how long it’s going to be before I can get out of here.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Campbell, but they shipped the wrong part. It’ll be two, possibly three more days.”

Nine (#ulink_f9454699-a9a7-5f84-b4a0-8cbd24537e23)

“What’s the matter?” Skip asked when Rorie indignantly replaced the receiver.

She crossed her arms over her chest and breathed deeply, battling down the angry frustration that boiled inside her. The problem wasn’t George’s fault, or Skip’s, or Kate’s, or anyone else’s.

“Rorie?” Skip asked again.

“They shipped the wrong part for the car,” she said flatly. “I’m going to be stuck here for another two or possibly three days.”

Skip didn’t look the least bit perturbed at this information. “Gee, Rorie, that’s not so terrible. We like having you around—and you like it here, don’t you?”

“Yes, but...” How could she explain that her reservations had nothing to do with their company, the farm or even with country life? She couldn’t very well blurt out that she was falling in love with his brother, that she had to escape before she ruined their lives.

“But what?” Skip asked.

“My vacation.”

“I know you had other plans, but you can relax and enjoy yourself here just as well, can’t you?”

She didn’t attempt to answer him, but closed her eyes and nodded, faintly.

“Well, listen, I’ve got to get back to work. Do you need me for anything?”

She shook her head. When the office door closed, Rorie sat down in front of the computer again and poised her fingers over the keyboard. She sat like that, unmoving, for several minutes as her thoughts churned. What was she going to do? Every time she came near Clay the attraction was so strong that trying to ignore it was like swimming upstream. Rorie had planned on leaving Elk Run the following day. Now she was trapped here for God only knew how much longer.

She got up suddenly and started pacing the office floor. Dan hadn’t called her, either. She might have vanished from the face of the earth as far as he was concerned. The stupid car was his, after all, and the least he could do was make some effort to find out what had happened. Rorie knew she wasn’t being entirely reasonable, but she was caught up in the momentum of her anger and frustration.

Impulsively she snatched up the telephone receiver, had the operator charge the call to her San Francisco number and dialed Dan’s office.

“Rorie, thank God you phoned,” Dan said.

The worry in his voice appeased her a little. “The least you could’ve done was call me back,” she fumed.

“I tried. My secretary apparently wrote down the wrong number. I’ve been waiting all this time for you to call me again. Why didn’t you? What on earth is going on?”

She told him in detail, from the stalled car to her recent conversation with the mechanic. She didn’t tell him about Clay Franklin and the way he made her feel.

“Rorie, baby, I’m so sorry.”

She nodded mutely, close to tears. If she wasn’t so dangerously close to falling in love with Clay, none of this would seem such a disaster.

The silence lengthened while Dan apparently mulled things over. “Shall I come and get you?” he finally asked.

“With what?” she asked with surprising calm. “My car? You were the one who convinced me it would never make this trip. Besides, how would you get the MG back?”

“I’d figured something out. Listen, I can’t let you sit around in some backwoods farm town. I’ll borrow a car or rent one.” He hesitated, then expelled his breath in a short burst of impatience. “Damn, forget that. I can’t come.”

“You can’t?”

“I’ve got a meeting tomorrow afternoon. It’s important—I can’t miss it. I’m sorry, Rorie, I really am, but there’s nothing I can do.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, defeat causing her voice to dip slightly. “I understand.” In a crazy kind of way she did. Dan was a rising stockbroker, so career moves were critical to him, more important than rescuing Rorie, the woman he claimed to love... Somehow Rorie couldn’t picture Clay making the same decision. In her heart she knew Clay would come for her the second she asked.

They spoke for a few more minutes before Rorie ended the conversation. She felt trapped, as though the walls were closing in around her. So far she and Clay had managed to disguise their feelings, but they wouldn’t be able to keep it up much longer before someone guessed. Kate wasn’t blind, and neither was Mary.

“Rorie?” Clay called her name as he burst into the office. “What happened? Skip told me you were all upset—something about the car? What is it?”

“George called.” She whirled around and pointed toward the phone. “The water pump arrived just like it was supposed to—but it’s the wrong one.”

Clay dropped his gaze, then removed his hat and wiped his forehead. “I’m sorry.”

“I am, too, but that doesn’t help, does it?” The conversation with Dan hadn’t improved matters, and taking her frustration out on Clay wasn’t going to change anything, either. “I’m stuck here, and this is the last place on earth I want to be.”