mark. Lindy’s expression didn’t soften one bit.
Dropping the smile, he extended his hand to Travis and introduced himself. “Kyle Anderson.”
Travis, a dyed-in-the-wool problem solver, accepted Kyle’s hand, but his gaze remained pinned on Shayna. She knew he’d see her nerves plain as day and do what he could to set things right. But this was one problem she had to solve herself.
She spoke up quickly, before Travis could intervene. “Mr. Anderson, as I’ve explained, now is not a good time for me. Please call me later to discuss this matter.”
“Certainly, Ms. Miller. I have your number.” A flash of something Shayna chose to interpret as respect lit Kyle’s sparkling blue eyes. “Until then.”
Deliberately taunting her, he extended his hand for a goodbye shake. Refusing to be intimidated, she closed the gap and slipped her hand into his. Rather than immediately releasing it, he tugged her closer and lowered his voice.
“The clock is ticking, Shayna. We will talk.” He leaned a smidge closer and added, “Soon.”
His warm breath wafted against her cold ear. She couldn’t contain the shudder that danced down her spine, but privately, she insisted it was just the weather.
As she watched, he climbed into a clean but wimpy gray rental car and drove off. Relief nearly buckled her knees.
“Oooh, you were so right about the pretty boy thing.” Lindy’s excited voice recaptured Shayna’s attention.
“Shayna, who was that guy? Are you sure everything’s okay?”
Touched by Travis’s unwavering concern, she reached up and lovingly patted his cheek. “I’m fine, Papa Bear.” For now, at least. “I’ll explain everything tomorrow, okay? For now, I just want to go home and recharge.” She gave them both a quick hug and a kiss then dashed to the safety of her sturdy old hatchback. She cranked the engine and waited for the heater to warm up.
Wishing for the hundredth time she’d never opened that stupid letter from her mother, Shayna forced her sticky transmission into gear and headed home. Mind spinning, she drove out of town and up the mountain to the cabin that had been in the Miller family for generations.
Kyle’s dogged determination had her mind reeling. What in the world could Walker possibly want with her? He hadn’t shown her one iota of interest in twenty-five years. He darned sure hadn’t been interested all those nights Patty had passed out, leaving a very young Shayna essentially alone. And what about the times her mother had been arrested and Shayna had been shuffled into and around the overcrowded foster care system?
No, the only person who’d cared for her then had been James Miller, the kindhearted schoolteacher who’d lived next door. He’d cared enough to petition the courts for temporary custody. A single man with no biological or legal ties. Talk about an uphill battle.
And now, all these years later, Dr. Steven Walker pops up out of nowhere and sics his bulldog lawyer on her, egotistically expecting her to drop everything to accommodate his wishes?
Well, James Miller’s daughter didn’t kowtow to bullies. She’d honor her word and give Kyle Anderson thirty minutes to speak his piece; then she’d send him and his sleazy client packing.
Chapter Two
Shayna snapped her eyes open and stared at the cabin’s vaulted ceiling, trying to figure out what had disturbed her nap. Snuffly snores drew her attention to the floor next to the couch, where her hundred-pound German shepherd snoozed. She rolled over and smiled at the sleeping giant—not much of a guard dog, but for her, Brinks was the perfect companion.
She registered the muffled crunch of tires on gravel half a second before the sound of a car door slamming finally roused the dog—and answered the what-woke-me-up question. Brinks jumped to his feet and ran to the front window.
She sat up just in time to see a masculine silhouette move across the curtain. Dread set her teeth on edge. She wasn’t surprised that Kyle Anderson had tried to follow her home, but she was flabbergasted that the stubborn fool had succeeded. There were no street signs on the mountain. Here, directions were given in terms of burned barns and tree stumps.
She was still several steps from the door when he knocked. Brinks rushed forward, a low growl sneaking past his bared teeth. Shayna laid a reassuring hand on his head. “Sorry, pup, but his spoiled city hide is probably too tough to chew.”
Secretly wishing she were ornery enough to ignore him, Shayna pushed back the curtain. Other than his flapping coattails and wind-tossed hair, it was like someone had superglued an immovable statue to her front porch. A two-hundred-year-old oak should be so sturdy.
Over his shoulder, the sky sagged low and gray. While she’d napped, this morning’s bad weather had turned downright nasty. If the temperature kept falling, there’d be sleet before nightfall. Which made getting rid of her uninvited guest even more critical.
Mentally gearing up for battle, she shooed Brinks out of the way and opened the door. A blast of frigid air whipped across the front porch, spilling a hunk of thick blond hair across Kyle’s forehead before racing through the narrow wedge of the open door.
His gaze flicked over her, head to toe. She knew she looked sleep-rumpled and sloppy but darned if she’d fidget and primp for him. “Yes?” She didn’t hold the door open or invite him in out of the cold. Rudeness went against her grain, but sometimes a girl had to break the rules.
His nose glowed Rudolph-red, yet he somehow managed to appear patiently inquisitive, as though he could wait all afternoon if need be. “You don’t look too busy at the moment. Perhaps now’s a better time for our discussion?”
Shayna bit her cheek to keep her lips from curving. Despite her pique over this man’s nerve, she couldn’t help but admire his tenacity. He’d have made one heck of a defensive tackle. Eye on the quarterback and don’t stop running till you’ve mowed him down.
Only problem was, that made her the quarterback—but she planned to stay on her toes till the end of this game. Which meant she had to maintain control.
“Fine. But let’s make it quick. The storm’s moving in.” She stepped back and reluctantly invited him in.
Kyle shuffled forward a step, and stopped immediately when Brinks issued a growled warning, his bared-tooth snout level with Kyle’s most vulnerable parts.
She grabbed the dog’s leather collar and attempted to pull him back, but the mutt refused to budge. “As you see, he’s a mite overprotective, so you’d best mind your manners.”
“Hey, boy.” Kyle spoke softly, holding his palm near Brinks’s snout. The dog took his time before accepting the offered sniff, and rather than his customary lick of approval, Brinks backed off just enough for Kyle to enter, then sat, keeping their visitor well within his sights.
Bolstered by the rare glimpse of Brinks’s underused guard dog skills, Shayna pushed the door closed against the wind’s pressure. She had promised to hear Kyle out. She hadn’t said a thing about being pleasant.
“You’ve got fifteen minutes, Mr. Anderson. One cup of coffee and then you’re gone.”
Kyle’s jaw ached with the effort of keeping
