happen to have a pot of coffee made, would you?”
She stopped, wrinkling her brow in confusion. “What?”
“Coffee. You know. That black stuff.”
“Well…no. Why?”
“Put some on. I think better after I’ve had a few cups.”
“You’re coming to my house?”
“I’m already here.”
She whirled to stare at the front door. “You’re here?” she repeated in dismay.
“Yeah. And when you open the door, would you mind giving the old bat across the street a wave? She’s been watching me like a hawk. Probably thinks I’m a burglar.”
Elizabeth hurried to the door and unlocked it. By the time she opened it, Woodrow was halfway up the walk, his cell phone still pressed to his ear. She stared, struck again by his size. She remembered thinking that afternoon how large a man he was, but he seemed even taller now, broader. And there was a John Wayne swagger in his walk that she hadn’t noticed that afternoon, which made him appear even bigger, tougher.
“Wave,” he said into the receiver.
She glanced beyond him and saw her neighbor, Mrs. Gladstone, peeking through a slit in the drapes of her front window. Forcing a smile, she lifted a hand in a wave.
“Is she still looking?” he asked.
Elizabeth watched Mrs. Gladstone snatch the drapes together and disappear. She tipped the receiver back to her mouth. “No. She’s gone now.”
“Good.”
Reaching the porch, he slid his cell phone into the holster clipped to his belt, then pulled hers from her ear and punched the disconnect button. He passed it back to her. “I guess we don’t need these anymore.”
Her face heating in embarrassment, Elizabeth slipped the phone into the pocket of her robe. “No, I guess not.”
He lifted a brow. “Are you going to invite me in?”
Flustered, she backed into the house. “Oh. Yes. Please.” She waited for him to step inside, then closed and locked the door behind him.
“Nice place you’ve got here.”
She turned, following his gaze, caught off guard by the comment. “Thank you. I like it.”
He cupped a hand on her elbow. “Now, about that coffee…”
She stumbled along at his side, wondering belatedly if she’d made a mistake in inviting him in. After all, she knew nothing about this man. He could be a serial killer for all she knew.
“Mr. Tanner—”
They reached the kitchen and he released her arm. “Woodrow.”
She squared her shoulders. “Woodrow,” she amended. “May I see your driver’s license, please?”
He gave her a curious look, but reached behind him and pulled his wallet from his rear pocket. “I suppose so, though if you’re worried about your safety, it’s a little late for that.”
She quickly noted his name: Woodrow Jackson Tanner. His address: RR 4, Tanner Crossing, TX. She looked at the accompanying picture, then glanced at him in surprise, comparing the features. “This picture doesn’t look like you at all.”
Scowling, he snatched the wallet from her hand. “It’s a couple of years old. I’ve changed.”
She cocked her head, amused by his embarrassment. “Actually, I was thinking the picture was quite flattering. You look…friendlier.”
He shot her a dark scowl, then jerked a chair from the table and sat down. “Are you going to make coffee, or what?”
“Of course.” She headed for the coffeemaker, but stole a glance at him over her shoulder, fearing she’d insulted him with her comment. “I’m sorry if what I said about your photo offended you.”
“You had questions,” he said tersely.
Reminded of them, she pulled a canister from the cupboard and measured grounds. “Yes. Quite a few, in fact.”
“So let’s hear ’em.”
She switched on the coffeemaker, then crossed to sit opposite him at the table. “Where did Renee live?”
“You don’t know?”
“No. I haven’t had any contact with my sister in over five years.”
Though she sensed that he wanted to quiz her about that, he said instead, “Killeen.”
“Killeen,” she repeated, amazed to discover that Renee had lived a mere three-hour drive from Dallas. “You said that you didn’t know her.”
“No. Never even heard of her until Maggie showed up with the kid.”
“Which is your father’s?”
“Yeah,” he muttered, his expression turning sour.
“And he and Renee never married?”
He snorted. “That wasn’t his style.”
“You sound as if your father was involved in…paternity situations before.”
He arched a brow. “More than I was obviously aware of.”
She frowned thoughtfully, wondering what Renee would have seen in a man old enough to be her father, then rose to pour them both a cup of coffee. When she returned to the table, she pushed a cup toward him, then closed her hands around hers, needing the warmth.
“How did she die?”
He took a sip. “Something to do with the birth. I don’t know the details. Maggie could probably tell you, though.”
“Maggie,” she repeated. “The friend. You said she’s your brother’s wife?”
“Yeah. Though that’s recent. A couple of days ago, in fact. Ace hired her to take care of the baby, then they up and married.”
“They fell in love?” she asked in surprise.
He grimaced at the question. “I guess. If there is such a thing. They seem suited. They’re both nuts about the kid. Hell,” he said, tossing up a hand. “Come and see for yourself.”
Her eyes rounded. “What?”
“Come to Tanner’s Crossing with me. See the kid. Meet Ace and Maggie and my other brothers.”
The thought of going to Tanner’s Crossing and coming face to face with her sister’s past terrified her. What kind of person had Renee become? Would the baby look like Renee? Would Elizabeth be able to let her niece go once she saw
