She glanced to the overflowing bookcase against one wall. “You must read a lot.”
“I enjoy reading,” he agreed. His piercing green eyes seemed to peer directly inside her. “What about you? Are you a reader?”
She sat on the edge of the sofa. “I’d like to be, but there never seems to be enough time. Between taking care of Sammy and my job there aren’t many hours left in the day.”
“What kind of job do you have?”
“Right now I’m a waitress, but that’s not what I want to do for the rest of my life.” She hesitated a moment, then continued, “I had to drop out of high school my junior year because my nana…my grandma got sick, so the first thing I need to do is get my GED.”
She wasn’t sure why she told him this. It was more information than he’d asked for and she was certain he didn’t care what her future plans might be.
Those direct green eyes of his held her gaze. “Your grandmother is important in your life?”
“Definitely. She raised me. It was just me and her, and of course my sister,” she hurriedly added. She’d never been a liar, and the lies she now found herself spouting bothered her more than a little bit.
“What about your parents? Where are they?”
“Who knows? I never knew my father and when I was three my mother dropped me off at Nana’s house and we never heard from her again. Nana told me she was a troubled woman with drug problems. I think she’s probably dead by now.”
Janette had long ago made peace with the fact that her mother had been unable to parent her. At least she’d been unselfish enough to put her in Nana’s care, where she’d been loved and looked after.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, and she was surprised by the touch of empathy she heard in his deep voice. “My mother was murdered when I was just a boy.”
“That’s horrible,” she exclaimed.
He shrugged. “You deal with the bumps life throws you.” He stood suddenly, as if to end the conversation of that particular topic. “Are you sure you aren’t ready for some lunch? I’m going to make a sandwich.”
“I guess I could eat a sandwich,” she agreed and got up to follow him into the kitchen. Once again she found herself sitting at the table while he fixed the meal. “I need to give you more money,” she said. “You’re feeding me and everything. I feel terrible about all this.”
He smiled then, and the power of his smile shot a wave of heat through her. It was the heat of a woman intensely aware of an attractive man. It shocked her, but she embraced it, for it was something she hadn’t felt for a very long time, something she’d thought Brandon Sinclair had killed.
“I think I can manage to feed one slender woman for a couple of days without declaring bankruptcy,” he said.
She returned his smile. “I just want you to know that I appreciate it.” She glanced toward the window where the snow appeared to be slowing down. Surely by tomorrow she could leave.
She gazed back at Dalton. “So, I guess your dad raised you, then? It must have been quite a challenge, considering how many of you there were.”
Once again he grinned, transfusing his rather stern features with an unexpected warmth. “Ah, Dad had a secret weapon. He hired a cantankerous old cowhand as a housekeeper. Smokey Johnson not only threatened to beat our butts if we got out of line, he followed through on his threats often enough to make us take him seriously.”
Despite his words it was obvious he held a lot of affection for the cowhand turned parental figure in his life. For the first time since she’d stepped out of the bus station yesterday evening, some of the tension that had coiled inside her eased.
“Ham and cheese okay?” he asked.
“Perfect. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Nah, sit tight. I can handle it. Besides, if you work as a waitress I doubt you get too many people offering to wait on you.”
She laughed. “That’s the truth.” He smelled nice, like minty soap and a touch of sandalwood, and she felt herself relax just a little bit more.
“Is your sister older or younger than you?”
The question came out of left field but reminded her that she couldn’t let her guard down for a minute. “Older,” she said. “Why?”
“Just curious.” He walked over to the table with their lunch plates. “What would you like to drink? I can offer you milk, water or a soda.”
“Milk would be nice.”
He rejoined her at the table a moment later with two tall glasses of milk. For the next few minutes they ate in silence. “From what you told me earlier it sounds like all of your brothers and your sister are married and having kids. Why aren’t you married?” she asked to break the uncomfortable quiet.
A flash of darkness momentarily chased across his green eyes. “I guess after growing up with a houseful of people I’ve discovered in my adult years that I enjoy my solitude,” he replied. “I like living alone and not having to answer to anyone and have no plans to ever get married.”
He took a drink of his milk, then continued, “What about you? I’m assuming things didn’t work out with you and the baby’s father?”
She looked down at her sandwich and pulled off part of the crust. “No, we tried to make it work. He’s a great guy and everything, but we just weren’t good together.” She looked at Dalton once again and forced a small smile to her lips. “But thankfully we have managed to remain good friends.”
How she wished this were true. How she wished that Sammy’s father was a good man who could help her instill the right qualities in their son instead of a monster who would taint the innocence of the little boy.
Dalton leaned back in his chair and studied her. “You’re a pretty woman. I’m sure you won’t have any problems finding some special guy to share your life.”
There was nothing in his voice to indicate he was flirting with her in any way, but she touched a strand of her hair self-consciously. She hadn’t felt pretty in a very long time and she was surprised to discover that his comment soothed a wound she hadn’t realized she possessed.
“I’m in no hurry at the moment to make any commitment to anyone,” she replied. “I just want to be able to take care of my son and myself.”
At that moment the phone rang, jolting every nerve in Janette’s body. What if it was Dalton’s brother, the sheriff? What if Dalton mentioned that he had a young woman and a baby staying with him?
What if Sinclair had already begun the search for her and had contacted Dalton’s brother? Horrible scenarios went off in her head, mini-movies of doom.
As Dalton started to rise to answer, she grabbed him by the forearm and held tight. Her heart beat so hard, so fast she wondered if he could hear it. “Please, please don’t tell anyone I’m here.”
His eyes pierced her with a sharpness that was almost painful. He didn’t answer but instead pulled his arm out of her grasp and walked over to the phone.
“Hello?” he said, his gaze never leaving Janette. “Yeah, hi, Dad. I was just eating lunch.”
As Dalton continued his conversation, he never broke eye contact with Janette. The tension that had dissipated earlier crashed back through her, twisting in her gut like a deadly Oklahoma tornado.
His voice remained pleasant as he carried on his conversation with his father. When he finally hung up he returned to the table and reached out to grab her forearm as she had done his.
“Now, Jane,” he said, his voice deceptively calm. “You want to tell me