Copper.
A tall, willowy figure rose up, at first a slim feminine shadow in the dust, but as the cloud began to settle, details emerged. The things about Rori he would never forget—the swirl of her long straight hair in the Wyoming breeze, the curve of her porcelain-cut chin, and the way she looked classy even wearing a battered baseball cap.
“What are you doing here?” He heard the venom in his words and winced. He hadn’t meant to sound harsh. His thoughts had somehow influenced his voice, the same unexplainable way he had found himself mysteriously on the edge of the lawn without realizing he’d moved a single inch off the porch.
“I’m falling off my horse, apparently.” She dusted herself off. “Copper still doesn’t like loud sudden sounds.”
“If you’re out of practice riding, then you are out of practice falling.” There were a couple of dried blades of grasses stuck in her hair and a streak of dirt on the hem of her shorts. “Hurting anywhere?”
“I’m tougher than I look.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her soulful eyes. He didn’t know what her life had been like in Dallas, but the bright sparkle that used to light her up was gone.
“Howdy again, Rori.” Frank’s voice behind him was deep with amusement. “If your grandfather wasn’t able to replace that shoe for you, I can take Copper to the barn and get it done.”
“Really? I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”
“Me? No trouble for me. I didn’t say I would do it.”
Yep, leave it to Dad. Not that he wouldn’t have made the same offer, but his old man didn’t have to sound so pleased about it. “I’ll take the horse. Go back inside and finish your lunch, Dad.”
But did Frank listen? No. “You and Rori go on inside and get settled. I’ll be back to start the interview in a few.”
“Interview?” His brain screeched to a stop. He meant to set out after his father to take the horse and get Copper shoed, but his boots mysteriously stuck to the lawn. Rooted in place, he tried to shake the fog out of his head. He couldn’t have heard that right. “Interview?”
“For the housekeeping position.” Frank tossed over his shoulder as he took the reins from Rori. “Don’t let his bark trouble you none. Justin’s gotten cranky over the years. We manage to put up with him because he’s family.”
“I’m sure that’s the only reason.” Her laugh was like a trill of a creek, bubbling, quiet and inviting, leaving him thirsting to hear more. Unaware of her effect on him, she shoved a stray strand of hair beneath her baseball cap. “Thanks, Mr. Granger.”
“If you’re gonna be working for me, you’ve got to call me Frank.” He clucked to the gelding, who followed him confidently, and the two set off down the gravel and dirt road to the horse barn.
“Thanks, Frank,” Rori called out with a smile, earning a wave as man and horse turned the corner and disappeared from sight. She faced him, looking a little pale. “I guess you didn’t know I wanted the job?”
“Would I be standing here with my jaw dropped if I did?” He jammed his hands in his jeans pockets, mostly wanting something to do with them. Throttling his dad didn’t seem like a good idea, and it certainly wouldn’t solve his problems with Rori. “Why didn’t you say something in town?”
“I thought you knew.”
“If you’re looking for work, then that means you’re staying around and this is not a quick trip home for Terri’s wedding.” Anger unrooted his feet and he marched toward the house. “You lied.”
“No, I am going to Terri’s wedding. I assumed your dad told you that I was here for an extended stay.”
“Dad didn’t tell me anything.” Nothing unusual about that. He could guess at what his father was up to.
The wind gusted as if it were in cahoots with his dad because it brought the faint whiff of Rori’s rose-scented perfume. He strode the same path they used to walk hand-in-hand. He marched up the back porch and ignored the swing where they’d spent many a summer afternoon sipping homemade lemonade and doing their homework.
Judging by Rori’s silence, she might be remembering, too.
“Maybe I should ask. Do you want me to apply for the job? I understand if you don’t.” She swept past the screen door he held for her and waltzed into the mudroom like she’d done hundreds of times a dozen years ago. “The thing is that I need a job, and there aren’t many positions available in town. Nothing else, as a matter of fact. That’s the only reason I answered your dad’s ad.”
“Sure, I get it.” He let the door slam shut and followed her into the kitchen, boots and all. “I suppose that fancy lawyer you married will be following you soon. Will he be putting up a shingle in town?”
“No. Brad won’t be coming. I’m on my own.” Raw emotion cut across her face and while she set her chin, straightened her shoulders and visibly wrestled it down, her sorrow remained. Sadness that was banked but unmistakably bleak in her violet-blue eyes.
Sympathy eked into him, and he did his best to stop it. No need to feel sorry for the girl who’d gotten everything she wanted. He yanked the refrigerator door open. “Sorry it didn’t work out.”
“Me, too.”
He set his heart against her. He was no longer swayed by her emotions. He felt sorry for her. A failed marriage was nothing to celebrate. But that was as far as he was willing to go. He plunked the pitcher onto the table and went to fetch a glass out of the cupboards. He ought to say something more to fill the silence, but anything he could think to say would make him seem interested in her life.
Hardly. She’d made her decision, and now he made his. She might be thinking she’d settle for her second choice. After all, he was still available, right? Oh, he knew how women thought. They were largely a mystery, but he’d learned a thing or two over the years. The bottom line with them was wanting security, marriage and a man to pay the bills. The bigger the man’s wallet, the better.
He slammed the glasses onto the table with enough force that the clunk reported through the kitchen like a gunshot. He glanced down, surprised that he hadn’t broken them. That was when he realized half of the table was free of foam containers, plastic bags and the plates from lunch. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Clearing a place so we can talk about the job.” Rori calmly set the armful she’d gathered onto the nearest counter, studied him with her steady gaze and backed toward the door. “But now that I see what you really think, I’m going to go. I thought we were adults and what we had was water under the bridge, but I was wrong. I’m sorry, Justin. I really am.”
Uh-oh. His scars were showing, wounds he’d vowed to keep hidden and buried. He hung his head. “Didn’t mean to growl at you.”
“It’s okay. I know you well. Your bark is worse than your bite.”
“I never bite.”
“I’m glad that hasn’t changed.” She gripped the screen door handle.
“You don’t need to go.”
“Are you trying to tell me that you wouldn’t mind me working here?” She’d been the one to leave. She’d broken his heart. That she was here at all showed how desperate she was. She didn’t need to read minds to know what he was debating. She opened the door, fighting to hide her disappointment. “I don’t blame you. I understand.”
“No, wait. Give a fellow the chance to think.” He paced after her, squinting at the sunlight when he joined her on the porch. “I haven’t had time to prepare myself for seeing you again. I need to think this through. You, the interview, it was all sprung on me.”
“I