He could see her nerves take hold in the way she brushed her hair away from her temple. The movement distracted him, again making him want to reach out to her. Unfortunately, the urge wasn’t strong enough to derail his thoughts for long.
He had all the sympathy in the world for her...but that still couldn’t give him answers. “What happened that summer, Andi? You were here one day and gone the next, and that was it. No note, no letter, nothing.”
She didn’t respond.
“You owe me an explanation, at least,” he said harshly. “You walked away from me as if I’d never existed. I thought we had something good going.” Something good? Hell of an understatement. “I guess, no matter what you’d said then, thought is the key word here.”
Over near the corral, a horse neighed and one ranch hand called out to another. Andi’s silence went on long enough to make him wonder if she would ever answer. But he’d had plenty of practice at holding on, waiting for a witness to make a statement or a perp to make a confession.
Which would she do?
“My mom got sick,” she said finally.
“And when she got better, you couldn’t get in touch?”
“She didn’t get better. She had breast cancer, and she wasn’t a survivor. Grandpa didn’t tell you?”
He sucked in a breath. “I’d heard from my mom...after your mom passed away. But I didn’t know she’d gotten sick back then. Or that it was why you’d left.”
“She wouldn’t let us tell anyone here, because she didn’t want Grandpa to worry.”
“Jed didn’t know?”
“Not right away. And once Mom got sicker, she didn’t want anyone around her except my dad and me. She held out for a long time, and we were grateful for every minute we had left with her. That’s why I didn’t come back here to visit until...until after she was gone.”
Now he couldn’t keep from touching her. He rested his hand on her arm, feeling the warmth of her skin and the way her muscle tightened beneath his fingers. “I’m sorry.”
She nodded, then grabbed the carton from the hood and rushed away, but not quickly enough to keep him from seeing the tears in her eyes.
He’d gotten answers to his questions, discovered his anger had slipped away, but didn’t know what he could find to replace it.
He curled his fingers, trying to hang on to the warmth he would swear he still felt from her skin.
* * *
HER ARMS TREMBLING, Andi carried the carton Mitch had given her into the Hitching Post’s kitchen. She wasn’t shaky from the weight of the box but from seeing him again. And she wasn’t ready to consider what had brought on the reaction.
As Andi set the carton down, Paz crossed the room to investigate. “Ah, very nice,” she murmured with a born chef’s appreciation.
Jane merely leaned forward from her seat at the table to peer into the box. “All those healthy vegetables. They look heavy. I’m surprised Mitch didn’t volunteer to carry the box for you.”
Andi heard the teasing in her cousin’s tone, but couldn’t summon the energy to match it. She said simply, “He had to get home.”
She wasn’t about to tell anyone how abruptly she had turned and walked away. At the porch, she had risked a look over her shoulder and saw him climbing into his truck. Seeing the way he eased into position told her how much he must have been hurting.
She didn’t want to think of him in pain.
She didn’t want to think of him at all.
“That’s good, right, Andi?” Jane said loudly.
She started. “What?”
Paz smiled at her. “I said, tomorrow, I will make my vegetable soup.”
“That’s great. Sorry, I was daydreaming...” Andi looked toward the door. “I need to check on the kids.”
“They’re fine,” Jane said. “Grandpa has them all in the sitting room.”
“Then that’s where I’m headed.”
“I’ll go with you. Unless you need some help, Paz? And if you do, I volunteer Andi.” Jane laughed.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” Paz said, attempting to sound stern. “Pete loves my spicy vegetable soup, and this is your chance to learn how to make it.”
At the look on her cousin’s face, Andi laughed.
Smiling, she left the two women and went down the hall leading from the kitchen to the hotel’s lobby. She could hear voices coming from the sitting room.
Her son gave a high-pitched screech of uncontained laughter. At the sound, tears welled in her eyes. Back home again after their last visit to Cowboy Creek, Trey had reverted to being quiet and withdrawn. The change in him had started not long after Grant’s death, and it broke her heart to think that maybe he, like Jane, had sensed changes in her she had hoped no one could see. She hadn’t been able to hide her stress, and all her worries kept her distracted. That had to stop, especially if it was already affecting her children.
Coming back to the ranch for the holidays and to oversee the wedding had been the right decision. Being with Tina’s son, Robbie, and Pete’s kids was good for Trey.
But being around Mitch wasn’t good for her.
Thank goodness he had turned down Jed’s invitation to join them for dinner. Before that, she had noticed how quickly he deflected the question about him staying. She was certain he knew as well as she did Grandpa had meant his visit to Cowboy Creek.
In any case, his answer might not have mattered. He had a long drive between his parents’ house in town and Garland Ranch. Judging by the trouble he’d had climbing into his truck, today’s trip to the hotel could very well be his last while he was here.
In the sitting room, she found Jed in his favorite chair, holding Missy on his lap. “You’ll be spoiling her, Grandpa,” she scolded gently.
“Then she’ll be spoiled,” he said with a grin. “I’m taking every chance I can get to hold her. She’s been away too long. You all have.”
As she took a seat on one of the chairs near them, she forced a smile. Jed hadn’t made any secret of the fact that he wanted her and the kids to move to the ranch permanently.
She wanted only to prove she could take care of her family on her own.
Trey crossed the room to them, thumping his chest with one hand. “Look, Mommy. Look what I got.”
Rachel, Pete’s five-year-old, followed in his footsteps. “It’s Robbie’s badge. Robbie let me play with it and I shared it with Trey.”
“That’s very nice of you, Rachel. And that’s a very nice badge, sweetheart.” She tapped the plastic star-shaped pin and touched her son’s cheek.
“I’m the chef.”
“You mean sheriff,” Rachel corrected. She turned to Andi. “He means sheriff. Grandpa Jed said Mitch has a badge, too. Didn’t you, Grandpa Jed?”
“I sure did.”
Yes, Mitch had a badge. And a gun and an injury and a dangerous job. Grant’s position had the potential for danger, too. They’d both known it. But Mitch’s could expose him to risk every day of his life.
“Mitch is going to show me his badge,” Rachel announced.
“Well,” Andi said, “I think he must have forgotten. He’s gone home already.”
“But