one of you get this out?” she asked casually, getting a good grip on the pot before carrying it back to the cabinet. It was made of metal, but the pretty enamel coating could have been chipped, and Hannah wasn’t about to take the risk.
Tobias barely glanced her way before shaking his head. He was still intent on the letter from Texas.
Doss looked more closely, his gaze rising curiously from the teapot to Hannah’s face. “Nope,” he said at last, and busied himself emptying the contents of the coffeepot down the sink before pumping in water for a fresh batch.
Hannah closed the doors of the china cabinet, frowning.
“Odd,” she said, very softly.
Chapter Three
Present Day
Sierra descended the rear staircase into the kitchen, being extra quiet so she wouldn’t wake Liam up. He hadn’t had an asthma attack in almost a month, but he needed his rest.
Intending to brew herself some tea and spend a few quiet minutes restoring her equilibrium, she chose a mug from one of the cupboards, located a box of orange pekoe, and reached for the heirloom teapot.
It was gone.
She glanced toward the china cabinet and saw Lorelei’s teapot sitting behind the glass.
Jesse or Travis must have come inside while she was upstairs, she reasoned, and put it away.
But that seemed unlikely. Men, especially cowboys, didn’t usually fuss with teapots, did they? Not that she knew that much about men in general or cowboys in particular.
She’d seen Travis earlier, from Liam’s bedroom window, working with the horse, and she was sure he hadn’t been back in the house after carrying in the bags.
“Jesse?” she called softly, half-afraid he might jump out at her from somewhere.
No answer.
She moved to the front of the house, peered between the lace curtains in the parlor. Jesse’s truck was gone, leaving deep tracks in the patchy mud and snow, rapidly filling with gossamer white flakes.
Bemused, Sierra returned to the kitchen, grabbed her coat and went out the back door, shoving her hands into her pockets and ducking her head against the thickening snowfall and the icy wind that accompanied it. Nothing in her life had prepared her for high-country weather; she’d been raised in Mexico, moved to San Diego after her father died and spent the last several years living in Florida. She supposed it would be a while before she adjusted to the change in climate, but if there was one thing she’d learned to do, on the long journey from then to now, it was adapt.
The doors of the big, weathered-board barn stood open, and Sierra stepped inside, shivering. It was warmer there, but she could still see her breath.
“Mr. Reid?”
“Travis,” came the taciturn answer from a nearby stall. “I don’t answer to much of anything else.”
Sierra crossed the sawdust floor and saw Travis on the other side of the door, grooming poor old Baldy with long, gentle strokes of a brush. He gave her a sidelong glance and grinned slightly.
“Settling in okay?” he asked.
“I guess,” she said, leaning on the stall door to watch him work. There was something soothing about the way he attended to that horse, almost as though he were touching her own skin….
Perish the thought.
He straightened. A quiver went through Baldy’s body. “Something wrong?” Travis asked.
“No,” Sierra said quickly, attempting a smile. “I was just wondering…”
“What?” Travis went back to brushing again, though he was still watching Sierra, and the horse gave a contented little snort of pleasure.
Suddenly the whole subject of the teapot seemed silly. How could she ask if he or Jesse had moved it? And, so what if they had? Jesse was a McKettrick, born and raised, and the things in that house were as much a part of his heritage as hers. Travis was clearly a trusted family friend—if not more.
Sierra found that possibility unaccountably disturbing. Meg had said he was single and free, but she obviously trusted Travis implicitly, which might mean there was a deeper level to their relationship.
“I was just wondering…if you ever drink tea,” Sierra hedged lamely.
Travis chuckled. “Not often, unless it’s the electric variety,” he replied, and though he was smiling, the expression in his eyes was one of puzzlement. He was probably asking himself what kind of nut case Meg and Eve had saddled him with. “Are you inviting me?”
Sierra blushed, even more self-conscious than before. “Well…yes. Yes, I guess so.”
“I’d rather have coffee,” Travis said, “if that’s all right with you.”
“I’ll put a pot on,” Sierra answered, foolishly relieved. She should have walked away, but she seemed fixed to the spot, as though someone had smeared the soles of her shoes with superglue.
Travis finished brushing down the horse, ran a gloved hand along the animal’s neck and waited politely for Sierra to move, so he could open the stall door and step out.
“What’s really going on here, Ms. McKettrick?” he asked, when they were facing each other in the wide aisle, Baldy’s stall door securely latched. Along the aisle, other horses nickered, probably wanting Travis’s attention for themselves.
“Sierra,” she said. She tried to sound friendly, but it was forced.
“Sierra, then. Somehow I don’t think you came out here to ask me to a tea party or a coffee klatch.”
She huffed out a breath and pushed her hands deeper into her coat pockets. “Okay,” she admitted. “I wanted to know if you or Jesse had been inside the house since you brought the baggage in.”
“No,” Travis answered readily.
“It would certainly be all right if you had, of course—”
Travis took a light grip on Sierra’s elbow and steered her toward the barn doors. He closed and fastened them once they were outside.
“Jesse got in his truck and left, first thing,” he said. “I’ve been with Baldy for the last half an hour. Why?”
Sierra wished she’d never begun this conversation. Never left the warmth of the kitchen for the cold and the questions in Travis’s eyes. She’d done both those things, though, and now she would have to explain. “I took a teapot out of the china cabinet,” she said, “and set it on the counter. I went up to Liam’s room, to help him settle in for a nap, and when I came downstairs—”
A startling grin broke over Travis’s features like a flash of summer sunlight over a crystal-clear pond. “What?” he prompted. He moved to Sierra’s other side, shielding her from the bitter wind, increasing his pace, and therefore hers, as they
