Rafe took the soft black wool out of her hands. “Let me help.” She looked startled, but turned away so he could slip the coat over her arms. Surrendering to temptation, he straightened the collar and smoothed the cloth over her shoulders before he stepped back. “There you go.”
“Thanks.” Her voice sounded breathless, the way he felt. A grown man, especially one reasonably experienced with women, shouldn’t get a big charge out of such a simple touch.
But Rafe knew that right this second he wouldn’t trade places with anybody else in the world.
They said goodbye to Mona and stepped out to where Jed had waited patiently all this time. Thea crouched in front of the dog and ran her palms over his shoulders. “He’s been here for hours, just sitting. I thought bloodhounds had a tendency to bolt.”
“Jed’s not your ordinary hound.”
She glanced up at him with a smile. “No bias there, of course.”
Rafe grinned back. “Of course not. But he was the runt of the litter, and he was so grateful to be the center of attention when I took him home that it’s really rough getting him to stay by himself for very long. The tradeoff is that I keep him with me and he behaves himself. Works pretty well.”
“That’s the kind of dog to have.” She straightened up from her crouch without a wobble or a creak—just smooth, controlled movement. “Well, thanks for lunch. And…and for caring about Bobby. That’s really above and beyond the call of duty for you.”
Her hand was extended and Rafe took it, anticipating the feel of skin against skin. He wasn’t disappointed. There was a warmth between their palms that had nothing to do with body temperature.
Before he could stop her, she was backing away. “Um, I’ll see you later. Maybe church tomorrow?”
Rafe nodded, because he didn’t trust his voice. Thea smiled, looked worried, then outright scared. She bolted for her big black Land Rover, and was gone.
“YOU FORGOT the groceries?” Beth’s brown eyes widened. “How could you forget? That’s what you drove into town for!”
With her coat hanging off her elbows, Thea slumped back against the wall. Since leaving Rafe Rafferty, she hadn’t thought about groceries even once…until she walked through the door into the kitchen.
“I…I’ll go back and get them.” She shrugged her coat on again. It had started to sleet, and she could hear ice bouncing off the wide window over the sink. But facing a slick highway would be preferable to facing Beth’s disappointment.
“It’s after four o’clock, young lady. By the time you get back to town the market will be locked for the weekend. What am I supposed to fix for Sunday dinner tomorrow?”
“Um…we could eat in town. At Grizzly’s.”
Beth crossed her arms. “As long as I’ve worked here, your father has never had to eat his Sunday meal anywhere but at his own table, unless he chose to do so. I am not going to tell him I can’t make him a decent meal.”
Tired from a day of tension, wanting to be by herself to think over the time with Rafe, Thea kept her temper with an effort. “Well, this is a cattle ranch. There have to be steaks or a roast in the freezer. Bake potatoes, make a salad, grill a steak. If you fix some of your buttermilk biscuits,” she wheedled, “Dad will be perfectly satisfied.”
The housekeeper drew a deep breath. “I suppose so. But what in the world possessed you—”
Thea left her coat on as she backed out of the kitchen into the dining room. “I’ll get your groceries first thing Monday. Promise. And I won’t forget again. I…I guess I just had my mind somewhere else.” Before Beth could ask where, Thea hightailed it across the house to her bedroom, where she shut and locked the door.
She hung her coat over the chair at the dressing table, then sat down and propped her elbows on the table’s edge, staring at herself in the mirror and wondering if Rafe saw the same face she did. Kind of ordinary, really—good enough skin, maybe a little too tanned, cheeks that got too red in the cold, a mouth too wide, a chin too square. Definitely not beautiful.
And he was a man who was surely used to having beautiful women in his life.
But he had talked with her for hours, as if what she said really mattered. Was he that good at the game? What did he think he would win?
Or was the rapport…the sense of connection…real? Could she trust it? Was this going to be the one?
A fist pounded on her door. “Hey, Thea, we’re back. Open up.”
She dropped her head into her hands. “Give me a couple of minutes, Bobby. I just got back myself and I’m bushed.”
“You can’t be as tired as I am. Man, we sat out there till I thought my knees would crack when I stood up.”
“Did you get anything?” She almost dreaded asking.
“Nah—they’re still pretty shy. We found a few scrapes, and some tracks, but it’s early yet. Another couple of weeks, there should be deer everywhere.”
“Great.” Thea sighed. “Go away, Bobby. I’ll talk to you after dinner, okay?”
“Yeah, sure.” He went on down the hallway to his room, whistling. When Bobby was good, he was very, very good. And when he was bad—
Yet another knock on her door. “Althea, I want to talk to you.”
When her dad used that tone there was no putting him off. Thea opened the door. “Yes, sir?”
“We’ll go to my office.” He turned on his heel, and she followed him, as he expected her to.
Robert Maxwell’s office suited a man of his importance, his interests. A huge oak desk stood in the center of the room, surrounded by a bank of file cabinets and a wall of books. Not novels, of course, but bound professional journals, textbooks on cattle and agriculture and business. Two comfortable armchairs rested in front of the desk, but Thea wasn’t asked to sit.
“I spoke with Hal LeVay on my way through town.” Her dad filled his pipe, tamped it, lit the tobacco and puffed. “He said you spent most of the day in that woman’s diner, talking to the deputy sheriff.”
Thea put her hands in her pockets. “I was there for a few hours, yes.”
“Talking about what?”
“Different things.” At twenty-nine, she considered herself past the age of interrogation, and her dad should, too.
He regarded her over his pipe. “What was the reason for this meeting?”
“We had coffee together, then lunch.”
“He asked you to meet with him?”
“Yes.”
“This was a date?”
She wished she could say yes, if only to be defiant. “He wanted to talk to me about Bobby.”
“Dammit, I told him to stay out of our business.”
“Bobby makes that hard, Dad. He’s been raising hell in town. Rafe…Deputy Rafferty has a responsibility to keep the peace.”
“His responsibility stops where my authority begins. And that means my children.”
“Then maybe you need to exercise more of your authority over your son.” Her dad’s eyes narrowed, but it was too late for Thea to turn back. “Bobby’s drinking way too much, has been all summer, and even before. He needs to recognize that he has a problem with alcohol and deal with it.”
Robert Maxwell’s response was short and rude.
“Dad, you know this is true. He can put away a six-pack between the end of work and dinnertime. He has no idea of moderation