teenager with the too-flashy clothes had disappeared.
This woman wore jeans with a silky-looking deep blue top and strappy heels that made her legs look endlessly long. Her hair was just as blond and golden looking, her big brown eyes smoldering hot, sensual, like liquid pools a man could drown in.
His gut clenched. Dammit she was...beautiful. In a wholesome, almost-innocent way.
“Honey?” He offered his hand.
Her hand trembled as she placed her slender palm in his. Heat rippled through him at her touch.
A wary look flashed in her eyes, and she rubbed her palm on her jeans as if she’d felt it, too. Then her soft lips pressed into a thin line, and a frown darkened her face.
“We were waiting on you,” Dr. Weinberger said. “I explained to Honey that she doesn’t need to make an ID, that we recognized her father, and DNA confirms it’s Waylon. But if she wants to see him, that’s fine, too.”
Harrison arched a brow, waiting on Honey’s response. He needed time to get his reaction to her under control.
Their past was way too complicated for him to be attracted to her now.
* * *
HONEY QUICKLY AVERTED her gaze from Harrison.
Good heavens. She’d thought he was cute when he was seventeen, but he was so handsome now he could bring a woman to her knees.
He’d morphed into a mountain of a man with big, broad shoulders, a muscular body, the deepest amber eyes she’d ever seen and an all-gruff, masculine exterior. His tanned skin and dark hair accentuated his high cheekbones, square jaw and the cleft in his chin.
He had dimples, too, when he smiled, although that smile had disappeared after his sister went missing. It was still gone.
In fact, his frown suggested he found her lacking.
His mother’s hateful words had been imprinted in her brain forever. “You’re trash, Honey Granger. You’re not welcome at Hawk’s Landing. My daughter is not going to associate with the likes of you.”
“Have you decided on arrangements?” Harrison asked, jarring her from the painful memories.
Honey shrugged. “According to Daddy’s lawyer, Truitt Bennings, my father wanted to be cremated.” She was surprised that her father had a will, but grateful he did. He’d left the house to her. Owning it outright would make it easier to sell.
She didn’t intend to stay in this town any longer than necessary.
“I can call the crematory for you if you want,” Dr. Weinberger offered.
“Thank you,” Honey said. “I’d appreciate that.”
Dr. Weinberger gave her a sympathetic smile. “Do you want to see him now?”
Did she? No. When she’d left town, she’d sworn never to see or speak to him again.
But some inner voice beckoned her to at least say goodbye. After all, he was her father. And he hadn’t deserted her as her mother had, although some could argue that drinking himself into a stupor was his way of abandoning her and reality.
She stood, lifting her chin and putting on a brave face. “Yes. Let’s get it over with.”
Harrison and the doctor exchanged an odd look, but neither commented. She almost asked what was going on, but decided they’d probably discussed her before she’d arrived. Gossip in small towns was hard to overcome. For all she knew, everyone in Tumbleweed knew of her arrival.
She lifted her chin. Dammit, she didn’t care what the people here thought of her anymore. She’d made herself a new life, and she was proud of who she’d become.
Still, their quiet looks made her uneasy and reminded her of the reason she hated Tumbleweed.
Dr. Weinberger led her from the office through a set of double doors past a room labeled Autopsy, then into a smaller space. She took a deep breath to brace herself, then followed him over to a steel gurney. The room was so cold that she shivered.
Her father lay beneath the draped cloth.
The ME stepped to the opposite side of the table. “Are you ready, Ms. Granger?”
She nodded.
He pulled the cloth away from her father’s face, but she didn’t react. It was as if she was looking at a stranger, someone she’d met years ago, someone who hadn’t meant anything to her. Age had turned his hair gray, carved deep lines in his craggy face, and he’d lost weight. The yellowish-gray pallor of his skin coupled with the bruises on his face looked stark beneath the harsh lighting.
“What happened?” she asked. She’d assumed it was the liquor, but his face looked like he’d been in a bar fight.
The doctor shifted. Beside her, Harrison’s breath puffed into the air. “I found him at Dead Man’s Bluff.”
Honey looked at him for confirmation. “Why was he there?”
“I don’t know,” Harrison said.
“How did he die?” Honey asked.
“Cause of death was head trauma,” Dr. Weinberger said.
“So he was drunk and fell?” Honey said, disgusted.
A tense second passed. Harrison cleared his throat. “He didn’t simply fall, Honey. It looks like he was struck by a rock then pushed over the edge.”
Shock bolted through Honey. “You mean someone murdered him?”
“I’m sorry,” Harrison said. “But yes, it looks that way.”
Now she understood the odd looks between the men.
Her mind began to race. Her father hadn’t had any friends in town. A lot of people didn’t like him, but no one hated him enough to kill him.
Except...
Her gaze met Harrison’s. Except for his family.
* * *
HARRISON SAW THE wheels in Honey’s mind turning. She was jumping to the same conclusion that everyone else would—that one of his family members might be responsible.
“Do you know who pushed him?” she asked, tactfully avoiding an accusation.
He didn’t have the answer to that question.
“Not yet.”
He would find the truth, though. That was his damn job.
“Would you like a few minutes alone?” Dr. Weinberger asked.
Another tense heartbeat passed. Honey twisted her hands together, looking fragile for a moment, then she gave a slight nod.
“Let
