brought her shoulders to her ears, shy again. She didn’t want to say out loud what he looked like to her. It would have sounded silly, telling him he looked big and strong, man enough to make her feel small and feminine. For once. “I don’t know. You own this building, and you said you had others in town.”
“Oh.” He scratched his nose, knitted his brows in annoyance and embarrassment. “That was kind of a stretch of the truth. I own this building and a little house on Temple. Well, I own part and the bank owns part. I bought them both three years ago when I thought I’d— When I thought about moving to town.”
“Good thing you changed your mind about moving. I imagine it’d be hard on the neighbors to have a thousand head of cattle in town. It’s a big herd. Are you looking for a new vet?”
“I thought you were the new vet.”
“You know what I mean. Are you going to someone else now that Niebaur’s retired?”
He looked at her for a minute. Glared at her, she might have said if she could think of a single reason he might do so.
“We’ll try it out,” he finally said. “I’ve got some heifers need checking week after next.”
“Okay.” While she didn’t appreciate his antagonistic attitude, her practical heart wanted to sigh in relief. “Okay. Good. I could use the business.”
They stood on the sidewalk, staring at each other, unsure of what to say or do. They were having a moment, it occurred to both of them; what that meant, they hadn’t the slightest idea.
“So,” Daniel began slowly, “Niebaur still have all his files on paper?”
Grace smiled, relieved. She’d been scrambling for something to say, anything to break the peculiar, tingly tension between them. “Yes. I have to find an assistant right away so I can get started on getting them on computer. I don’t know how he ever managed to keep his billing straight.”
“I don’t know, either, but he must have. Frank and I have paid out enough to him over the years to prove it.”
“Is Frank your dad?”
“My brother and business partner. Are you cold?”
Grace wondered at the way his face closed at the mention of his brother. “A little. I’d better get home. I still have my suitcases in the back of the truck.”
“Come on, then,” He slapped the side of her truck, shuffled off grim thoughts of his brother. “I’ll follow you.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Do you argue this much with everyone?” he asked testily. He wanted to feel testy; he wanted the low-level anger and bitterness he’d lived with for three years to shoot back into his system. Because if it didn’t he was very much afraid he was going to grab the woman and kiss her. Damn the male sexual response, anyway. He needed to think with his brain right now, but his other, more aggressive organs were pushing for equal time, it seemed.
He closed the door, jogged back to his own truck, tossed in Cat and hoisted himself inside.
Grace didn’t get lost, that would have taken a 14-carat idiot in a town the size of Nobel, but she drove five miles an hour down her street until she spotted the little house. It was as dark as a tomb.
They got out of their respective vehicles and stood looking at it.
“You should have gone in when it was still light out,” he whispered in deference to the late hour, the quiet neighborhood, the breath he could barely catch, just standing next to her, with her shoulder against his.
“I should have,” she conceded in the same quiet tone. His breath had moved her hair aside, brushed against her temple. She blinked. “It looks pretty dark in there.”
He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. He gritted his teeth, rolled his eyes, sighed. It didn’t help. He still wanted to take that anxious look out of her eyes. But that would be it, he told himself. She was no little girl, no damsel in distress. She was the personification of every single thing that had pissed him off for three long years. He’d look around her dark little house and then he and Cat would head home for a long, comforting brood.
“I’ll come in with you,” he offered reluctantly.
Oh, she should say no. She should tell him she could handle herself just fine, thanks. But she wanted him to come in with her, chase out all the spooks and spiders. It was a rare thing, a man offering to do such a thing. Not since her father, not since her brothers, had a man looked beyond the size of her to the tender, sometimes fragile woman beneath.
“What about Tiger?”
“Who?”
She looked at him. “Your cat?”
“He’s okay in the truck. He’s sleeping in my rain slicker.”
“Oh.” She chewed on her lower lip a moment. “Okay. Thanks. Sorry.”
He walked in front of her. “For what?”
“For asking you to do this.”
“You didn’t ask me,” he rumbled crossly.
“Oh. Well, just thanks, then.”
He nodded shortly.
He walked up the steps, unlocked the door with her key, and flicked on the lights. The place was furnished sufficiently, if a shade shabbily, and was well-lighted and thickly draped. She’d be safe enough in here. He walked through the rooms, leaving her in the living room, snapping on the lights as we went. It didn’t take long. The house was tiny.
“Everything looks okay.”
“Good. Thanks again.”
“No problem.”
They stood across the room from each other. He pretended to look at the structure of the room, scanning the ceiling for signs of a leaky roof, bouncing lightly on his toes to listen for a creaky floor. She studied the furniture, the worn carpet, to keep from looking at him. Finally she took in a deep breath, then let it out.
He heeded the signal. “Well, I better be going.”
“Yes. It’s late. Thanks again.”
“You said that already,” he noted brusquely. “A couple times.”
“Oh. Well.”
He walked toward the door, toward her. She wanted to move out of his way, desperately, but found herself rooted to the spot. It was as if her mind was certain she should do one thing, the safe and sensible thing, but her body, her unruly, nothing-but-trouble body, was making the decisions.
He came to her slowly, brushed against her shoulder as he reached for the doorknob. And stood so still she could hear him swallow. Just stood there, his right shoulder against hers, for the space of ten heartbeats. He stared at the door, his throat working. She stared unseeing into the room, her heart pounding.
Then
