“Everyone’s a suspect, including the staff.”
Will let out a breath and dropped his hand, ready to leave now that he had his answer. “Thanks. This helps.”
“Would you like some tea or something before you go?”
He’d started for the door, but now he turned back, looking surprised. Regan was a little surprised herself. Her mother had hammered manners into her, but she hadn’t realized to what degree. “Since you’re here,” she said lamely.
“I need to be getting home. Kylie’s supposed to be starting dinner and I need to make certain the vegetables don’t get burned mysteriously. But thanks. Especially after, well, everything.”
She followed him to the door. He stopped before going out. “I would have called, but you don’t seem to have a number.”
“Unlisted. I like to avoid irate parents at report card time.”
“Irate parents tend to show up on the doorstep around here.”
She smiled. “I noticed.”
Their gazes held for a second and then he smiled. And, oh, what a smile.
Regan blinked and then Will ducked his head and stepped out into the bad weather. Regan grabbed the storm door, fighting the wind to latch it shut. It shook, making an odd noise, but it held.
She settled into her chair with her lukewarm tea and unsettled thoughts, listening to the house try to blow down around her, hoping she would remember her vow to stay away from damaged men.
APOLOGIZING had been the right thing to do.
Realizing that his daughter’s teacher was attractive was a guy thing to do. But it had been a long time since Will had felt such a gut-level draw toward a woman and it perplexed him. Well, it didn’t matter, because he wasn’t going to do anything about it. Wrong time. Wrong circumstances. Probably the wrong woman.
Will propped a foot on the lower rail of the pole corral and watched his horses graze as his daughter rode bareback at the far end of the pasture. The windstorm had blown out as rapidly as it had blown in, leaving the air oddly still. Will had zillions of branches to collect around the place, but he’d start tomorrow while Kylie was at school. It was a good way to stay close to the house and the phone, in case that jerk Domingo called.
Kylie started cantering a pattern, practicing her flying lead changes and probably winning big trophies in her head. It was almost dark and a school night, but Will was glad his daughter was enjoying the things a kid should be enjoying, things he’d never gotten enough of at her age. He’d been too busy dealing with his old man. The phone rang and he jogged to the house, scooping up the receiver on the eighth ring.
“Hey.” It was Trev. And he sounded stressed.
Will made a guess as to what was coming next. “More livestock stolen?”
“No.” There was a silence, and then he said, “I saw your brother in Elko today.”
Will stilled. “Brett was in Elko?”
“Yeah. He’s working for the Friday Creek Ranch. I thought you’d want to know.”
“Thanks.” Will pressed his lips together. He couldn’t think of anything else to say. He was having a hard time thinking at all.
“I didn’t talk to him, but I thought you’d want to know,” he repeated.
“Yeah, Trev. Thanks again.”
CHAPTER THREE
THE NEXT MORNING Will drove Kylie to school in a haze. She’d missed the bus, but he’d skipped the usual lecture on responsibility and simply told her to hurry so he could get back home and start working the horses. He was fully booked and it took a good part of the day to put in his contracted time on each animal; after which he still had to clear the windfall branches and conduct a brand inspection for a horse sale.
“You okay, Dad?” Kylie asked when they reached the school. “I mean, you didn’t yell at me about the bus.”
“I’m fine. Just tired. I didn’t sleep very well.”
“Too much coffee, probably.”
“Probably. Behave, kid. And don’t miss the bus!”
She grinned and got out of the truck, oblivious to the fact that her jeans were getting too short and totally unaware that her father’s heart was squeezing tight as he watched her join a group of friends.
He pulled out of the lot and drove at the posted snail’s pace to the end of the school zone. He passed Kylie’s bus going in the opposite direction. The driver waved and Will forced himself to wave back, although he didn’t think it would have killed the driver to wait a few seconds while Kylie found her history book.
Right behind the bus was Regan’s small car.
So Kylie wasn’t the only one having time issues that morning.
He accelerated as soon as he was out of the safety zone, then made a conscious effort to slow down. With only a couple hours of troubled sleep, he wasn’t as alert as he should be.
Couple of hours? Probably more like thirty minutes. He’d finally dozed off just before the alarm rang. And then he’d been instantly awake and the worries had come crashing down on him.
Why the hell was Brett back?
It had been more than ten years since he’d last seen Brett and it had not been a happy parting. In fact, someone had had to call the sheriff and Will had barely escaped a night in jail. Brett had not.
They hadn’t spoken since that night. Brett had left town the next morning and that had been the last Will had seen or heard of his brother.
Now he was back. Why?
The thing that really set Will on edge was that he wasn’t quite sure about the legalities of his situation. He might be better off if he did know, but looking into those things meant opening a can of worms he was inclined to leave firmly closed. He wouldn’t do it—not unless he absolutely had to. Brett was a good eighty miles away at the moment and he’d better stay eighty miles away. If he didn’t, he’d be a sorry man.
REGAN PARKED in the only available staff space, some distance from the back door. She grabbed her work bag off the passenger seat and made a dash for the teachers’ entrance just as the bell rang. Flinging the door open, she ran smack into Pete.
“Ah, Miss Flynn,” he said, looking a bit like a satisfied bullfrog.
“Sorry I’m late.” She tried to speak calmly, even though she was winded from her sprint. “I had a problem this morning.” As in, an enormous elm branch on top of her new fence had stretched the wire and popped the staples; another large branch lay across her driveway, too big for her to do anything about. It had taken her almost fifteen minutes to work the first leafy monster free of the drooping fence wire. Even then she could have made it to work on time by driving around the branch that was blocking her drive, if her mother hadn’t called just as she was walking out the door. Claire she could put off, but not her mother.
“You do know it’s district policy to phone when you’re going to be late?”
Regan nodded and refrained from telling him she had called, but Mrs. Serrano had been away from her desk. No sense having Pete jump all over the secretary, too.
He gave Regan a stern look, then abruptly turned and stalked off on his standard morning hunt for marauding pranksters. Regan secretly wished the pranksters success as she unlocked her classroom.
It might have been the aftermath of the squid inquisition, or it might have been that the students were hoping for the appearance of new slimy specimens to use