It didn’t have to be any more than that. They’d tidied that up, hadn’t they? A man was entitled to be a little shaky after thirty-odd hours of sex and solitude with a gorgeous woman.
He didn’t want anything more. Neither did she.
It was a relief and a pleasure to find a lover who wanted no more and no less than he did himself. A woman who didn’t expect him to play games, make promises neither expected to be kept, say words that were only words, after all.
Scowling, he grabbed a shovel and began to deal with the snow that piled the walk. The sun was strengthening, and he worked fast, so that even with the bite of the northern wind he sweated satisfactorily under his coat.
She’d probably head straight for the shower, he mused, tossing heavy snow off the path. Wash that pretty doe-colored hair of hers.
He wondered what it looked like wet.
She’d dig some of those neat, classy clothes out of her closet. Nope, he thought, correcting himself. Regan would never dig. She’d select. Quiet colors, simple lines. One of those professional-woman’s jackets, with a pin on the lapel.
She’d fix her face, nothing too obvious. Just hints of blush along the cheekbones, a touch of color above those ridiculously long lashes. Then lipstick—not red, not pink, a kind of rose that accented those full lips and that sassy little mole beside them.
Halfway down the walk, he stopped, leaned against the shovel and wondered if he was losing his mind. He was actually thinking about her makeup.
What the hell did he care what paint she slapped on before she went down to open the shop?
She’d put on the kettle for tea, or have cider simmering so that the place smelled of apples and spices. Then she’d go through the day without giving him a thought.
Snow flew as he attacked it. Well, he had plenty to do himself, and no time to brood about her.
He’d reached the end of the walk, and the end of his patience, when Devin rattled up the lane in the sheriff’s cruiser.
“What the hell do you want?” Rafe shouted. “Haven’t you got somebody to arrest?”
“Funny how a little blizzard quiets things down.” Leaning on the open car door, Devin watched his brother with amusement. “Saw Regan’s car was gone, figured it was safe to drop by.”
“I’ve got men due any minute. I don’t have time to chat.”
“In that case, I’ll take my doughnuts and go.”
Rafe swiped a hand over his chilled face. “What kind?”
“Apple and brown sugar.”
Some things were sacred, and an apple doughnut on a cold morning topped the list.
“Well, are you going to stand there all morning with that idiot grin on your face? Give me a damn doughnut.”
Obligingly, Devin took the bag out of the car and sauntered over. “Had three fender benders in town yesterday from people not smart enough to stay put.”
“Antietam’s a wild town, all right. Have to shoot anybody?”
“Not lately.” Devin took out a doughnut for himself before passing the bag to Rafe. “Broke up a fistfight, though.”
“Down at the tavern?”
“Nope, at the market. Millie Yeader and Mrs. Metz were going at it over the last pack of toilet paper.”
Rafe’s lips twitched. “People get a little nervous over necessities when a big snow hits.”
“Tell me about it. Miz Metz conked Millie with a bunch of bananas. Took a lot of diplomacy to keep Millie from filing charges.”
“Assault with tropical fruit. Could’ve done hard time for that.” Calm again, Rafe licked apple from his thumb. “Did you come by to give me the latest trials and tribulations of Antietam?”
“That’s just a bonus.” Devin polished off his doughnut, reached for a cigarette. His grin was wide and unsympathetic when Rafe groaned. He lit it, inhaled lavishly. “I hear food tastes better when you quit.”
“Nothing’s better,” Rafe shot back. “But some of us have real willpower. Blow it over here, you bastard.”
“Secondhand smoke’s the real killer,” Devin told him, and blew a stream in Rafe’s direction. “You look a little out of sorts, Rafe. Trouble in paradise?”
Rafe gave some thought to beating his brother to death with the snow shovel and stealing all his cigarettes. Reminding himself it was all a matter of self-control, he leaned on the shovel, instead.
“How long did it take Shane to open his big mouth?”
“Let’s see.” Considering, Devin smoked and studied the landscape. “The way the roads were yesterday, I’d say it took him, oh, about seven minutes to get from here to my office.” He flicked ash aside. “Let’s say seven minutes and ten seconds.”
“Now you’re here to offer your sage advice?”
“Hey, it was pretty sage to talk those two snarling women into splitting the six-pack of pink toilet paper. But no.” With a self-deprecating smile, he took a last drag, then flicked the cigarette away.
Rafe watched it wistfully as it hissed in the snow.
“I’m not exactly the expert on romance in the MacKade family.” Devin’s grin was crooked, and didn’t last long. “I thought you might like the latest on Joe Dolin.”
“He’s locked up.”
“For now. I got word he’s copping to second-degree assault. If he listens to his lawyer, he’ll agree to alcohol counseling. He’ll get a fine, suspended sentence with probation, and a stern warning not to hit his wife again.”
“What the hell kind of deal is that?”
“Prisons are crowded. Domestic disputes don’t usually equal tough sentencing. He says ‘Yeah, I did it, I’m sorry. I lost my temper, I was drunk, I lost my job. My self-esteem is really low.’ The judge says ‘Get yourself into counseling, my boy, and sin no more.’”
Rafe studied his brother’s face. Beneath the calm, he caught the twitches of fury and frustration. “You’re just going to let it go at that?”
“I don’t sentence.” Devin struggled to bite back on his sense of anger and impotence. “There’s nothing I can do except talk Cassie into letting me issue a restraining order, and make sure he doesn’t get near her or the kids.”
“Meanwhile, they’re bunked down at Regan’s. That puts her in the middle.”
“I don’t like it any better than you do. I’ve got the law to work around.”
“I don’t.”
Devin’s
