Chapter Ten
Delaney stood at the open door of the
shed, trying to decide what tools she’d need. It wasn’t even eight
in the morning, and so far, her day sucked. She was operating on
one measly cup of coffee, and now she had to take care of an
unpleasant task. Her phone rang and she unbuttoned the cargo pocket
in her loose cotton pants to retrieve her phone and check the
caller ID. If Keeley couldn’t give her mood a boost, she didn’t
know who could. Following the Vance Norris incident, it’d taken all
of Delaney’s persuasive powers to convince Keeley she wasn’t to
blame because she had left Easy Money earlier than Delaney. Since
then, Keeley’d been calling regularly to, as she put it, make sure
Delaney wasn’t suffering from PTSD because Vance Norris would give
anyone PTSD.
“Hey, Keel.” Delaney made
a split-second decision not to tell her friend what she’d found
that morning on a dusty road on her farm. Keeley would only worry,
and there was nothing she could do about it.
“I’ve called to tell you
I’m a single woman again.”
“You and Oliver broke up?
How’d he take it?”
“We did, and about how
you’d expect. He cried and I felt awful. He’s really a decent man,
but he wants a woman who’ll take care of him and adore him, and
that’s not me. He asked if he could call me in a couple months and
see if my feelings have changed.”
“You need a clean
break.”
“I know.” Keeley’s anguish carried through
the phone. “But he was crying, and I couldn’t say no. I’ll
definitely make sure we’re all the way done when he calls in a
couple months.”
“You’re a
softy.”
“True words. But moving on
to a more interesting topic, how are things between you and
Walker?”
“There’s nothing between
me and Walker. He’s going about his business and I’m going about
mine. Though I’m not sure what his business is. I’ve seen him
driving by several times a day, and I know he’s doing work on the
cabin, but I’ve been busy getting ready for opening day and we
haven’t talked since that night at Easy Money.”
“Mom heard gossip that
Vance is pissed because Walker filled Owen in on what happened in
his parking lot, and now Owen has banned Vance from Easy Money. I
don’t think he ever planned on becoming a regular. Easy Money’s not
highbrow enough for him. It’s more likely he doesn’t like being
told he can’t do something. Vance acts so entitled I’m sure being
told no would rub him raw.”
“Your assessment is
astute, as always. And good for Owen, Vance deserves it. Slimy
bastard,” she said with a huff. The memory of his hands on her made
her stomach roll.
“Slimy is a good
descriptor.” Then Keeley added smugly, “I’ll also note that Walker
is still into you and definitely has your back, which makes me
happy because I think you two belong together.”
“Keeley.” Delaney closed
her eyes.
“I know he hurt you, but
circumstances change. People change. And
I, for one, would like to see you give him another
chance.”
“It would kill me if he
left me again.”
“Believe me, I know. But
what if he stayed? What if he wants a life with you? Think about
it.”
Delaney made a noncommittal
sound.
“Okay, friend, I know
you’re busy so I’ll let you go. Oh, but before I do, Mom said to
tell you the woman from the agency is working out well. Dad likes
her. Well, maybe ‘like’ is too strong, but at least he doesn’t hate
her. Mom says she doesn’t know how they’d gotten by for so long
without her.”
“Oh, that’s good news.
I’ll talk to you later. Thanks for calling.”
Delaney took a minute to settle
herself. She might wish things could be different between her and
Walker, but the reality was, with the exception of James, the men
in her life she’d truly loved hadn’t loved her enough to care about
her feelings.
She shook off the heavy mood, and her
mind shifted to what she’d found on a dirt road that morning. She’d
need a shovel for sure, but also a steel rake. She put both in the
back of the electric side-by-side, the utility vehicle she used
around the farm. Her stomach turned at the thought of the job she
had to complete.
At first light, she’d let Callie out
to do her business and make her morning rounds. Delaney’d been
filling her coffee mug when she’d heard the old dog barking, and
not the usual “I smell a racoon and think I should bark” kind of
bark, but her alarmed “something’s wrong” bark.
A whistle hadn’t brought her home, so
Delaney had followed the barking, trudging up the dirt road to the
east orchard where apple trees grew in rows over rolling hills. She
found Callie near a wooden bridge spanning the small creek that
tumbled into the larger Mill Creek.
The old dog had stopped barking when
Delaney arrived, trotting over to greet her and rub against her
before returning to stand over a dark object on the road. The sun
wasn’t up yet, but there’d been enough light to see that what lay
there had once been alive.
Offering silent thanks Callie hadn’t
done what dogs generally did when they found something dead, namely
roll in it, Delaney’d put a hand to her stomach and peered
carefully at the carcass. What had once been a calf was now
eviscerated and torn into pieces. Most likely coyotes had gotten to
it, maybe dragging it from Lone Pine Ranch.
She’d have to call Shane and let him
know. Flies buzzed, but the stench wasn’t too bad, which made her
think the calf hadn’t been there long. She’d crossed the bridge
late the afternoon before and it hadn’t been there. The calf
must’ve been killed sometime during the night.
Now, Callie was locked in the house,
and Delaney needed to bury the poor thing. A vehicle rumbled past
and she glanced up, then did a double take. The back window of
Walker’s pickup looked like it’d been hit with a rock. Then she saw
the pockmark in the tailgate. She knew a bullet hole when she saw
one.
In a rush of motion, she hopped in the
driver’s seat of the side-by-side and sped after him.
When she caught up, he was already at
his cabin, bending over to lift boxes of nails from the bed of his
truck. The little dog, Bud, stood with his front paws braced in the
open driver’s window with a happy grin on his face.
As it had at the funeral, Walker’s
short hair struck her with regret. Gone were the long locks that
had made him look like a sexy pirate. Now shorter, his thick brown
hair still skimmed his collar. He’d combed it from the side and his
heavy bangs fell over his forehead. She was sure it wasn’t by
design, but he’d managed to keep the cool rebel look without
looking hipster-ish, even with the beard.
Jumping out of the side-by-side, she
strode over to him. “What the hell’s this?” She gestured to his
truck. The hole in the back window surrounded with fractured safety
glass made a knot tighten in her stomach. The passenger window and
front windscreen didn’t look much better, and she could see
daylight through the hole in the tailgate.
Walker ignored her, setting the nails
on the porch and returning to the truck.
“Walker.”
He checked his movement, then hefted a
manly-looking toolbox, biceps stretching the material of his black
t-shirt. He set it on the porch next to the nails and this time
when he turned, she’d planted herself squarely in his path. “What’s
with the holes in—”
The bloody groove on his right temple
had her sucking in a sharp breath. Partially hidden by his hair,
the injury looked raw and painful.
“You’re hurt.”
“Go away, Delaney. I’ve
got shit to do.”
“You’re
hurt. How’d you get
hurt? I think you need stitches.”
“None of your business. I
don’t. Now go away.”
She didn’t go away. Instead she moved
forward to lift the hair from his forehead. He stilled, not moving
even a fraction of an inch, his gaze guarded as she studied the
injury.
Then in a sudden movement he whipped
up a hand to grasp her wrist. “Watch it, Laney, you’re playing with
fire.” His low, rumbly voice held a warning, but the gleam in his
eyes suggested something else, something hotter and more
primal.
With her heart in her throat and his
grip warm on her arm, she couldn’t stop herself from lifting her
other hand to run a finger lightly over the skin at the edge of the
wound. He didn’t pull her hand away.
The smooth skin of his temple
transitioned to the rough texture of his beard. He watched her with
the wariness of a wild animal. It was terrifying to realize she’d
be happy spending the entire day running her fingers over him. That
thought brought with it so many erotic images, she felt the warm
blush creep up her neck.
He released her, and the searing heat
in his gaze had her taking a step back. She looked at the truck and
then back at him. Realization struck and she actually felt the
blood draining from her face.
“Is that a
bullet wound? Your truck
was shot at and you were hit?” Horror at the thought he could’ve
been killed threatened to strangle her. She balled her hands into
fists because what she really wanted was to wrap him in her arms
and hold on tight. He’d come millimeters from being killed and
she’d have lost him all over again. Permanently.
“I said I’ve got shit to
do, Laney. I don’t have time for this.”
“Since when does every
sentence you utter contain profanity?”
“Since I went to
prison.”
Damn. There it was again, the pain in
her heart when she thought of him wrongly incarcerated.
He moved to the side. She mirrored the
move to block him, planting her hands on her hips and ignoring his
scowl. He’d just have to deal until she got some answers. “How’d
you get bullet holes in your head and in your truck?”
“I don’t have a bullet
hole in my head.”
She raised a brow.
“A bullet
grazed me. It didn’t put
a hole in my head.”
“It came damn close.
Answer the question. How’d you end up with bullet holes in your
truck and a bullet graze
to your head?”
“The usual way. Got shot
at.”
She waited, and he heaved a sigh ripe
with frustration, complete with eyes raised to the heavens like he