He debated his next move—did he mention Elena’s name and hope that there’d been some mix-up and this woman wasn’t her teacher, or did he just not say anything?
At the apex of his debate, Daniel heard his cell phone ringing.
Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he looked down at the screen. Rather than someone’s name or a number, he saw that what was vying for his attention was an app. The second he saw it, all thoughts of possibly embarrassing his sister because he was trying to get to know her teacher instantly vanished.
Shaking his head, Daniel frowned at the screen he was watching.
Shania saw the change. “Something wrong?” she asked him.
“Yeah,” the deputy answered, closing his phone and putting it away again. “My sister is attempting to escape.”
“Escape?” she repeated uncertainly. “Are you holding your sister prisoner?”
“That just might be the next step,” he murmured, more to himself than to the woman sitting beside him at the bar. “No, I put up a basic security monitoring camera by the front door while she was at school.” He could see by the woman’s expression that he needed to explain this a little more clearly. “I grounded her after the last incident—she went to a party during a school night and there was alcohol flowing like the Mississippi River. She’s not supposed to go out on school nights for a month and it looks like she’s breaking the rules again.”
Shania looked at the deputy thoughtfully. A different take on the situation occurred to her.
“Maybe your sister found out about the security monitor and she decided to try to pay you back,” Shania suggested.
Daniel’s frown deepened. “You sound like you’re on her side.”
“No,” she answered without hesitation. “I just happen to know how the teenage mind works. How mine worked for a little while,” she added to convince him. “Until I suddenly realized I was being totally selfish and ungrateful.”
Shania vividly remembered the confrontation between her great-aunt and herself. The verbal altercation really straightened her out and left her feeling not only very humbled but utterly grateful to the older woman for putting up with her.
“How long did it take you to realize that?” Daniel asked, wondering just how long he and Elena were going to be at odds over absolutely everything from morning until night, because he was really getting tired of butting heads with his sister.
“Longer than it should have,” Shania admitted ruefully, since she should have realized immediately that Naomi had been under no obligation to take them in, much less put up with her antics.
Daniel saw something in the woman’s face that moved him, something that spoke to him even more than the fact that he found her to be an incredibly beautiful woman.
But right now, he had an emergency with Elena to deal with and that took precedence over everything else.
“Look,” he told her, “I’d really like to stay here and talk some more with you, but I’m afraid that I’ve got to handle this.”
Shania flashed a smile at him. “I understand perfectly,” she told him. Then, on the off chance that she’d correctly guessed whose brother he was, she called after the deputy, saying, “She’s a good girl who’s just testing you and her boundaries, and being rebellious.”
But Daniel had already crossed the floor and gave her no indication that he’d heard her. Within another minute, he was gone.
Shania stared after him, wondering again if she’d accurately guessed who his sister was. She could have very well just been reading into the situation.
“Another one?” Brett asked, standing on his side of the bar right behind her.
Startled, Shania managed not to gasp. Instead, she turned around to look at the bartender. “You really should wear squeaky shoes so you don’t scare your customers when you sneak up behind them.”
“I wasn’t ‘sneaking’ and squeaky shoes wouldn’t help,” he told her. “There’s too much noise in here to hear anything as understated as squeaky shoes.” Brett nodded toward her mug and repeated, “Another one?” He added, “On the house,” no doubt thinking that might sweeten the offer and make it more tempting.
But Shania shook her head. “That’s okay. One was enough.” Brett looked at her doubtfully. When he went on to tilt the mug she’d pushed aside, emphasizing the fact that there was still some beer in it, Shania added, “More than enough, really.”
“I can get you another brand,” Brett offered. “Something less bitter,” he added.
Shania smiled at the man. Brett Murphy was a decent, down-to-earth man, even more so than his younger brothers, and she appreciated his offer to appeal to her tastes, but that really wasn’t the problem.
“Maybe next time,” she told him, sliding off her stool. “I really just came in for the company.”
Brett nodded. “His name’s Daniel Tallchief,” he told her, even though Shania hadn’t asked. After having been behind the counter for as long as he had, Brett prided himself on being able to read people accurately, at least for the most part.
Tallchief. Shania smiled. She’d guessed right, she thought.
“I thought so,” she said aloud, secretly congratulating herself, then quickly added, “I mean, I didn’t ask.”
Brett’s smile deepened. “You didn’t have to,” he told her.
Rather than become defensive, Shania regarded the man a little more closely, then teased, “You’re adding mind reading to your list of talents?”
“I’m not one to brag,” he replied, his tone indicating otherwise.
“Okay,” she answered gamely. Shania’s eyes met his. “What am I thinking right now?”
He studied her for a long moment, then deadpanned, “You deal with impressionable young minds all day long. Should you be using words like that?”
It took her a second to realize that he was teasing her. “It’s how I survive.”
“Whatever gets you through the day,” Brett answered. He gave her an encouraging grin, then made one final offer. “How about some coffee? It’ll get the bitter taste of that beer out of your mouth.”
She looked at him, surprised. “How did you know I thought it was bitter?”
“I could just say it’s all part of being a mind reader,” he said, for a moment falling back on the label she’d given him. “But the truth is you have a very expressive face, at least when it comes to some things.” He leaned over the bar, pretending to share a confidence with her. “I wouldn’t let myself be drawn into any poker games if I were you.”
“No danger of that,” she told Brett just before she turned to leave his establishment. “Poker games require money and I’m just a teacher.”
“There
