Jenny looked at him like he was crazy. “Save a dance? Me? I’m not dancing.”
“And why not?”
Jenny held up the coffeepot. She hated to point out the obvious. “I’m here to see that others have a good time. That’s what your mother pays me to do and I intend to do it. I, for one, believe in earning my money.”
“I could pa—” Robert started to tease and then stopped. He didn’t know how she’d twist his offer to pay for a dance, but he could see trouble snapping in her eyes already. “My mother doesn’t expect you to wait on people all night.”
Robert looked over to where his mother was talking with Mrs. Hargrove. They were sitting on two folding chairs by the door to the barn. If his mother wasn’t so intent on the conversation, he knew she would have already come over and told Jenny to take it easy.
“You’re not going to ask her, are you?” Jenny looked horrified.
“Not if you don’t want me to. But if you’re so determined to give people coffee. I could pass some around for you. With two of us working, it’d take half the time. How much coffee can everyone drink?”
“I can manage.”
“No one should be drinking coffee at this time of night anyway.” Robert wondered if he’d completely lost his touch. She shouldn’t still be frowning at him. Any other woman would be untying those apron strings and smiling at him by now.
“It’s decaf.”
“Still. There’s all this punch.” Robert gestured to the half-full bowl of pink punch. The color of the punch had faded as the evening wore on, and the ice had melted. The plastic dipper was half floating in the liquid. “Pity to see it go to waste.”
“The punch drinkers are all dancing.” Jenny looked out at the dance floor wistfully. The only people left drinking coffee were the single men, mostly the ranch hands from Garth Elkton’s place. The teenagers had downed many a cup of punch after dinner, but they were all dancing now.
Robert followed her gaze. “The kids are doing their best, aren’t they?”
The swish of taffeta skirts rustled all along the dance floor. A long, slow sixties love song whispered low and throaty from the record player. Most of the teenagers were paired up and dancing with a determined concentration that Robert applauded. He even saw one or two of the boys try a dip with their partners. Now that was courage.
“They remind me of an old Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers movie—all those colors swirling around.”
The old prom dresses were lavender, slate gray, buttercup yellow, forest green, primrose pink—and they all seemed to have full skirts that trailed on the plank flooring of the barn. Their skirts reminded Jenny of a bed of pansies.
“We could be swirling, too—” Robert held out one hand for the coffeepot and the other for Jenny’s hand.
The light in the old barn had been softened when the music started. Someone had turned off a few of the side lights and shadows crowded the tall corners of the structure. The air was cool and, by the sounds of it, a winter wind was blowing outside.
When Jenny had looked outside earlier, she’d thought that the snow falling in the black night looked like a snow globe turned upside down—with the barn at the center and an old-fashioned waltz playing while the snow fell around the globe.
“I can’t dance in this.” Jenny brought her mind back to reality. She gestured to her chef’s apron. Her broad white apron was serviceable for working with food, but it had nothing of taffeta or silk about it. Even Ginger didn’t dance in coarse cotton. “And there’s my hair—”
“Your hair is beautiful. You just need to get rid of this.” Robert reached over and lifted Jenny’s hairnet off her head.
Jenny’s hands flew up. “But that’s my hairnet—the health code.”
“No one needs a hairnet for dancing.”
No, Jenny thought, but they did need air in their lungs. She felt dizzy. She could almost hear her sister’s squeal of delight if she knew Robert Buckwalter had plucked the net off her hair and asked her to dance.
But Jenny had always been more practical than her sister.
Jenny knew that Prince Charming didn’t even notice Cinderella until after the Fairy Godmother had given her a whole new look. Men, especially handsome men like the one in front of her, just didn’t dance with women with working shoes and flat hair. Not even the coachmen would have danced with Cinderella if she’d arrived at the ball with a net over her hair and an apron around her waist.
“I should change.”
Jenny’s hand had already found its way into his and now she was twisting away from him to go do something as foolish as change her clothes.
“You’re fine.” Fine didn’t begin to cover it, Robert thought to himself. Jenny’s eyes, usually a dark brown, had lightened to a caramel. She had a dazed look about her that made him want to dance with her in a quiet corner instead of in the middle of a throng of teenagers.
It wasn’t that she was beautiful, he decided after a moment. He’d seen dozens of women whose features were more perfect. But he’d never seen anyone who looked like Jenny. He could almost trace her thoughts in her eyes. She wasn’t trying to hide who she was or what she thought. He wondered if she even knew how rare that was. Or how compelling.
“But my hair…” Jenny frantically tried to fluff her hair up a little. It was all about bone structure. With flat hair, the small features on her face made her look like a Christmas elf. With just a little bit of fluff, she managed to look merely petite instead of childish.
Robert captured her hand and calmed her.
“Your hair is—” He’d been going to say “fine.” But then he felt the cloud of her hair fall against the back of his hand. “—incredible.”
“It’s brown.” Jenny shook her hair away from his hand. No wonder he was in the running for the number one bachelor. He was a charmer, all right. “Plain brown and flyaway on top of that.”
Robert shook his head. “I’d say more chestnut than anything, golden highlights. The kind of hair the masters used to paint in all those old European pictures. Mona Lisa colors.”
“Next you’ll be saying my apron is the latest fashion from Paris.”
Robert could see the amusement begin in her eyes and he could feel her relaxing.
“Just see if it doesn’t catch on.” Robert guided her closer so they could waltz. He felt her momentary resistance before she moved toward him.
“I used to love to dance.” Maybe the shadows will hide my apron, Jenny thought to herself as Robert started them on their way.
“Ever dip?”
Jenny shook her head. “And don’t you dare. I’d feel foolish with everyone looking.”
“Everybody’s too busy to care.”
Jenny looked around at the other couples. It was true. Almost. “The ranch hands are watching.”
Robert looked at the cluster of men standing by one of the side heaters. Half of them held coffee cups in their hands. A few of them did seem to be looking at him and Jenny, although he’d wager they weren’t interested in her apron. The dismay he saw in the eyes of a couple of them told him they’d been waiting for the coffee passing to stop so they’d have their own chance at a dance with Jenny.
“They’ll just have to get their own dates,” Robert stated firmly as he gathered Jenny a little closer and inhaled. She smelled of some very pleasing scent. He’d guess cinnamon.
Jenny almost stumbled. “Date?”
Robert