Chapter Thirteen

Twilight cast shadows over the yard as Sam closed the chickens in their coop for the night. The day had been cloudy, and the evening temperature was in the fifties. After buttoning his denim jacket, he checked his cell phone—no call from Linda. Goddammit. All day, he’d expected her to call.

He still didn’t know if he should have left the house. Right then, he’d figured she needed time and space to sort things out with the kids. Having him there sure hadn’t helped anything. But what if she’d held firm and kicked the kids out as well? She’d have been alone…after being eviscerated by the brats.

His mouth tightened. Time and space be damned. He’d call her when he got back to the house.

After a quick visual search, he spotted Connagher in the pasture, pouncing on something in the grass. “You coming, dog?”

Abandoning the chase, the mountain cur scrambled over the post-and-rail fence, his golden-red fur glinting with the last rays of the sun. His tongue lolled out as he trotted across the yard, ears pricked up to report in. Yes, sir, field mice won’t be bothering you this evening.

“Good job.” Sam stopped long enough to give him a good rib scratching before heading down the long drive to lock up and turn on the security system.

The front gate screeched. Sam’s jaw clenched. If that was his ex coming in, he was going to… He heard the car move forward, then another screech as the gate was closed. No, not his ex. Nancy never closed anything behind her.

“Stay with me,” he told Conn as the dog quivered with eagerness to chase the intruder off their land. Protective little bastard. Sam’s father had bred mountain curs, but he’d liked how the dark-brindled dogs could disappear in the night. Liked seeing them scare people. As a child, Sam had experienced his share of frights.

Conn’s reddish fur was a damn sight easier to spot.

As a familiar-looking Toyota sped up the drive, Sam’s spirits rose. Looked like he wouldn’t have to call her after all.

The car pulled in adjacent to Sam’s truck at the side of the house.

“Heel,” he said to Conn. He strode forward, the dog a step behind, and opened the door for her. Her scent drifted out, and he had to wonder if lavender would now give him a hard-on every time he smelled it. “Come to visit?”

She slid out of the car, slammed the door, and then shoved him back a pace. “What do you think?” If her voice had been a whip, it would have drawn blood.

Conn growled, and even as Sam snapped, “Shut it,” Linda glared at the dog. “Go sit.”

With a whine—attacked by two pack leaders at once—Conn put his ass on the ground.

Sam eyed Linda. The redhead’s temper didn’t fire up quickly, but damn, she was cute when she got angry. He set his hand on the car roof and leaned in, deliberately invading her space. “You’re pissed off at me.”

“Well, isn’t that observant?” The sarcasm was thick even before she added, “Have you considered suing your brains for nonsupport?”

Now that sounded just like Gabi. Sam barely managed to smother a laugh. No wonder Marcus enjoyed his little submissive so much. “Explain.”

“You said…you told Charles, ‘None of your business.’” She scowled. “You might just as well have said yes. So yeah, thanks for helping out.”

Ah. His temper started to rise, and he shut it down. She’d had a crappy day and wanted to take it out on him. Not fair, but still good she trusted him enough to do that. Even better that she gave enough of a damn to be angry with him. But she was out of line. “Linda.” Risking another shove, he cupped her chin. “You really want a man who’d lie? Does that set a good example for your kids?”

She froze as if he’d slapped her, and tried to turn her face away.

Not going to happen. His fingers tightened, and he watched her anger fade.

“You’re right.” Her voice was barely audible above the sighing of the dogwood trees lining the drive. She closed her eyes and sagged against the car.

He waited.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking, coming here to give you grief for being honest.”

Such big brown eyes. She was a heartbreaker. He gathered her in. “You needed someone, and you can’t yell at the children—not more than you did already.”

She winced. “I can’t believe I kicked them out of my house.”

So she’d held to her course. Strong woman. “Good. They were brats.”

She stiffened for a second, then sighed. “They were. But they’re usually good kids.”

“Then they’ll come around.”

“Maybe not. Not after this.” Her breathing hitched.

“Nah. Right now, they’re mad. It hit them where they’re vulnerable—the opinion of their friends.”

“I know the feeling,” she said under her breath.

Hell. Her kids wouldn’t have been the only ones to read that goddamned paper. He gripped her arms. “Are people giving you a rough time?”

LINDA STARED UP into Sam’s lean, weathered face. His blue eyes blazed. He should have been furious with the way she’d attacked him, but only now was he showing anger. Protective, wasn’t he?

Her mouth tilted up as she remembered her afternoon. “Some. Some were snoopy, some rude. But quite a few were angry on my behalf.” She’d collected more hugs that had almost reduced her to crying again. Odd how disconcerting kindness could be.

“Hard day. C’mere.” His arms came around her, and he engulfed her in warmth again.

As the cooling air brought the scents of the pasture and barn, she heard the low flap of bats catching insects in the air and the rustle of a breeze through the leaves. A cow mooed. She closed her eyes, knowing she could happily spend an eternity in his arms. Who’d ever think the tough rancher could give such fantastic hugs? With a sigh of regret, she pulled back. “I’m sorry to have bothered you. I’ll get out of your hair now.”

He leaned his hip against the car door. “Nope. You’re here. Now you stay.”

“You didn’t… I didn’t mean to just barge in.”

He gave her a hard look. “Be quiet. You’re staying.”

Her unhappiness drifted back a few feet. Being with Sam would be nice. Her house was empty. Silent. “I… Okay.”

“Good answer.”

“How about I cook you dinner to make up for my being an idiot?” What kind of extra-special dessert could she concoct for him?

“Works for me.” He nodded at the dog. “That’s Connagher. Conn”—he slapped Linda’s leg—“this is Linda. Linda. Linda.”

The dog rose, sniffed her leg, and wagged its tail.

Sam glanced at Linda. “He keeps track of people. Comes in handy when I want to find a field hand.” He tugged on the dog’s ears. “Now, say hello to Linda.”

The dog barked once, then gave her a canine grin. She bent to pet him. Interesting appearance. Medium-short, rough fur, stocky body, ears that drooped at the tip. His frame was smaller than a lab’s but similar. “What kind of dog is this?”

“Basic hound. Called a mountain cur.” He ruffled the fur on the dog’s neck affectionately. “They’re working and hunting dogs. Helped settle the Appalachians.”

“Huh.” She smiled as she straightened. Conn was like Sam: hard body, no frills, no particular charm, but tough enough to do whatever he had to do.

Sam put his hand on the small of her back, a circle of warmth in the cooling night, and guided her around the side of the house. In the front, the drive made a circle, enclosing a splashing fountain and landscaping plants. Through the twilight, she could see the shapes of farm buildings. Farther out, white fencing divided up dark pastures and ended at a line of trees.

The white, two-story farmhouse was probably mid-last century but well kept. A wide porch held a hanging swing and Adirondack chairs. He took her up the steps, across the porch, and through a heavy front door with an arched stained-glass window.

In the small entry, he helped her off with her white wool coat and hung it up. As he tossed his jean jacket onto a hook, then pulled off his boots, she had to shake her head. As a teen, she’d adored cowboy movies. Sam Davies was like a fantasy come true.

When he jerked his chin toward her high heels, she removed them before following him into the family room.

“Oh, this is nice.” An interior wall had been removed, letting the huge room flow into the dining area. The pale cream paneling lightened the heaviness of the brown suede sectional couch and chairs. A dark hardwood floor gleamed under a faded Oriental carpet. The entire room was designed for comfort, right down to the small fire crackling in the massive stone fireplace on the right.

When Conn flopped down on the hearth with a sigh as if he’d battled all day, Linda grinned.

Sam ran his hand up her back. “You’ve had dogs?”

“Oh, always, until… Well, the last one died a few months ago.” Her heart wrenched. “He was old. And it was good that he didn’t…he wasn’t…” Wasn’t there to be left alone after she’d been abducted.

Sam squeezed her shoulder in wordless comfort, then left her to walk into the kitchen.