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CHAPTER THREE
GREY WILSON WAS a mistake she wouldn’t make again.
On what should have been a peaceful late morning in June, Shadow Moran peered out her office windows onto Main Street and felt another prickle of unease slide across her shoulder blades. She’d been having the same feelings for the past hour—no, since the night before—and for good reason. She had no doubts. As if she’d conjured him up after her midnight ruminations, Grey must be somewhere nearby.
In the past year, since her return to Barren and the Kansas plains where they’d grown up, she’d had an almost daily sense of him, even when he couldn’t be seen. She’d been avoiding him, but she couldn’t avoid him any longer. She’d made her decision just before dawn, and it was more than time. Ten years, in fact.
Now she just needed the courage to implement this first part of her plan at last.
After another quick scan of the area, Shadow spied him on the other side of the street. Sure enough, he’d just come out of the Cattlemen’s Bank, the door swinging shut behind him. In spite of her decision and eternal misgivings, something deep inside her turned over. She should mind her own business. Literally. Her Mother Comfort Home Health Care Agency was still like a baby that had to be nurtured and fed and cared for 24/7.
Still, she turned from the window, then right back again.
Shadow watched Grey walk along the street then enter Annabelle’s Diner before she scooted her desk chair back. Her stomach clenched with nerves, she flipped the Closed sign around on the door, locked it, then went across the street and down two blocks to the fifties-style diner at the corner of Main and Cottonwood.
At noon the place was already jumping.
Shadow halted just inside the door, taking in the swathes of chrome and Formica at the front counter and on the tables. They were all filled. Several people glanced at her before their curious gazes flicked away.
Frowning, Grey sat alone in the only four-person booth that might otherwise be empty, his long legs stretched out into the aisle as he studied his shined-up boots. His ever-present black Stetson was slung on a hook at the end of the booth. Ever the cowboy gentleman, he’d probably removed the hat as soon as he’d stepped inside.
As if he could sense her presence, too, he looked up and their gazes locked. In those ten years apart he’d only gotten more attractive, turned from a boy into a man in his prime. His glossy, light-brown hair still had sun streaks from the long hours he spent outdoors. His eyes were the same blue-green with dark lashes that she remembered. His broad shoulders strained the fabric of his coming-to-town, Western-style suit, but denim and leather were more his style, and Shadow detected a grim set to his mouth. Like his defeated posture, the suit looked all wrong.
Despite their differences, Shadow knew him well. She didn’t bother to say hello or wait for an invitation to sit down. She slid into the seat opposite him. Along with the old gossip she’d stirred up as soon as she hit town, she’d been hearing fresh rumors for weeks about his financial troubles with Wilson Cattle, which must explain his visit to the bank. “What happened?”
Grey didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Nothing.”
“Barney denied you a loan?”
His frown deepened. “What makes you think I need one?”
“People talk.” And, in fact, it seemed everyone in the diner kept looking at them as if they wanted to say something now.
Grey fiddled with his fork. “Barney practically warned me not to darken his door again. You want to gloat, go ahead.”
“No, I’d rather watch you eat a good hamburger. You look like you need one.”
He groaned. “Don’t make me think of beef right now.”
She bit her lip so she wouldn’t ask, What will you do without that loan?
As she knew all too well, farming—ranching, in his case—could be a tightrope walk over a huge, deep chasm. Yet for a long
