Page 12

“I knew you were interested.” Claire laughed.

Sometimes, she actually enjoyed hanging out with her cousin.

Lala had a lot of faults, but she was definitely fun.

“I heard Travolta dances in his underwear. After watching him, you might even start liking disco.” Claire twirled across the concrete, then went into one of the dance moves she’d seen in the previews.

“I mean, really, how can you not like dancing to disco?”

“Ohhhh!” Lala hummed. “You’re thinking about that boy. Thomas’s brother, the one who was dancing on the back of his truck.”

Claire lifted her eyes. “No, I’m not. I haven’t seen him in nearly two years.”

“I haven’t seen Thomas in forever, but that don’t mean I’m not thinking about him.” She did a little hip-thrusting herself, then smiled devilishly and turned for the bathroom.

If Lala thought she was interested in Thomas’s brother, she would insist they go to the ranch tonight.

Although the idea was intriguing — because Claire was certain that Lala had mistaken Adam for Thomas — the idea of going to the ranch at night, with the ranch hands doing God-only-knows-what, made her skin crawl. Most of them creeped her out.

Lala grabbed Claire as soon as she left the bathrooms. “Come on. I need a Tab.”

That gave Claire an idea. She didn’t want to miss the next movie because Boyd couldn’t keep his hands to himself.

She stepped up to the counter after Lala and scanned the shelf behind the glass, smiling. “A pack of Good it was the same moves over and over. She would practice in the barn.

Claire was lost in her own world when Tony was practicing with Annette and then Stephanie. All she could think about was Adam. What might have happened between them if she’d hopped up in the back of the truck with him.

Boyd turned her entire body to him. “That’s the problem, isn’t it?”

“What’s the problem with what ?” Claire asked. She’d definitely missed something.

“Like her — that Stephanie bitch — you don’t think I’m interesting.”

“What are you talking about, Boyd? I’m just watching the movie.

” Tony was heading to the multicolored dance floor with another woman, and Claire wanted to study their moves.

She should have agreed with Lala when she suggested canceling the date, and then Claire could have snuck out and watched the movie alone.

Then again, the girl at the ticket window probably wouldn’t have let her in if Roger hadn’t been driving.

Boyd’s lips turned up into a sneer. “I’ll show you interesting …” With one swift move, he picked her up, then pushed her on her back.

Claire tried to shove him off her, but he was far too heavy, pinning her against the seatback, so she couldn’t even roll to the floor.

The music changed, and Claire whipped her head away from Boyd’s mouth.

She’d been waiting all night to hear her favorite Bee Gees song.

You Should Be Dancing .

The opening beat kicked in hard — a pulsing, four-on-the-floor rhythm that begged her to get up and dance.

She’d bought the 45 right after watching Adam dance to the song.

Often, she would set the record player on repeat and listen over and over with her headphones — so Lala didn’t give her crap about it.

Her thoughts flashed to the present. Boyd had her blouse pulled down and was reaching behind her back, trying to unhook her bra.

Wha’cha… doin’ on your back ? The lyrics pounding through the speaker energized her, like getting a second wind during a climb, when she could see the top was mere feet away.

Claire tugged on her blouse, trying to cover herself. “Stop that! I told you I wasn’t ready.”

Boyd pinned one of her arms, grabbing her breasts with the other.

With her free hand, she reached for the door handle.

Leveraged, she used the same muscles to pull her body up and over a rock ledge to buck Boyd off her.

She curled her legs to her chest, then kicked both of them forward, striking him in the solar plexus with her wood heels.

She pushed the door open and rolled out onto her haunches.

“You bitch!” Boyd roared. “I think you cracked my ribs.” He stretched his long arms forward, reaching for her.

Claire jumped up and backward. “I said no , Boyd! Is that two-letter word too long for you to understand?”

Boyd started to crawl out, but a long and muscular tanned arm shoved past her, pushing him back inside. “The lady said to leave her alone — Punk!”

Rusty ! Thank God ! Claire exhaled softly, trying to calm herself, the way she did when she was hanging from a rock, trying to reach her next handhold.

Boyd scowled at Rusty. “Go back to the res!”

One side of Rusty’s face pulled up in a mocking smile. “I’d expect that from a man who doesn’t know how to treat a lady — girl. How old are you, man? You do know she’s only sixteen?” Rusty turned to Claire. “You need a ride home, Claire?”

Buttoning her jeans, Lala hopped out of the back door. “No, I’m responsible for Claire. You can take that piece of shit home, though.”

Rusty pulled Boyd from the Blazer as if he weighed nothing more than a hay bale.

Boyd struggled to stand. “Get your hands off me, you stinking animal!”

“Sure thing!” Rusty released Boyd’s hands, sending him face-down in the dirt. “Get your own ride home.”

Lala directed Claire to the passenger door, then jogged around the front, jumping into the driver’s seat.

Boyd backed away from the Blazer, stumbling. He flipped off Rusty, then the row of onlookers when horns blared and people shouted obscenities.

Rusty rested a hand on the hood, preventing Lala from leaving just yet. When Boyd made it to concessions, Rusty opened the door. “You ladies good?” He raised his chin in Roger’s direction, who was still in the back seat. “He okay?”

Lala nodded and removed the speaker from the window.

“Thank you, Rusty,” Claire said.

Rusty dipped his head and stepped away from the door.

Lala spun out of the parking space. She was probably mad at Claire, even though it wasn’t her fault Boyd had gotten rough. Lala might be okay with going all the way with Roger, but Claire wasn’t ready — especially not with the likes of Boyd.

Just shy of the exit, Lala stopped and rolled down the window. “Hop in, Boyd. I’ll take you home.”

Boyd reached for the front passenger door.

Lala reached over Claire and smacked the lock. “Back seat!” She whipped around on the bench, glaring at Boyd as he climbed inside. “Don’t even think about touching my cousin again. Try anything, and you won’t have any balls to worry about, let alone whether they’re blue.”

Claire kept her eyes forward. Maybe Lala wasn’t mad at her after all.

Even better, Claire wouldn’t have to break up with Boyd — he’d singlehandedly destroyed any chance of continuing their relationship.

No way would he have the nerve to ask her out again.

Still, something about it all left her uneasy.

The sneer he’d flashed… the way he’d turned violent so quickly… Was Boyd actually dangerous?