Summer Days (Fool's Gold #7)

The horse nodded.

Heidi laughed. “Okay, you win. I’m impressed. And you have too much time on your hands.”

“Sometimes the winters get long,” he admitted, feeding the horse the two slices.

Shane led the way outside.

“As long as Wesley doesn’t expect me to read to him or do math, we’ll get along fine.”

“I’m sure of it.”

“You do have insurance, right?”

Shane glanced at her. “Very funny.”

A delivery truck pulled up and honked.

“I got a package for you,” the woman behind the wheel yelled.

“Been shopping?” Shane asked.

“Sort of,” Heidi said, suspecting the box contained the special paint Annabelle had suggested she order online.

The delivery woman circled around to the back of the truck and pulled out a small box. “You’re going to need to sign,” she said.

Heidi hurried forward and scrawled her signature on the electronic clipboard. Before she could reach for the box, Shane had collected it.

“Where do you want it?” he asked.

Heidi waved as the delivery truck drove away, then pointed to the goat house. “In there, please.”

In a couple of days, Annabelle and Charlie would be by to help her with the cave paintings. Heidi knew she didn’t have a choice, but she still felt badly about her decision to fake an archaeological find. Apparently, she wasn’t suited for a life of crime or even deception.

Fortunately, Shane didn’t ask about the content of the box and put it where she pointed without saying a word. They walked back outside.

“I should probably feel guilty about financing your life of crime.”

She felt her eyes widen and instinctively took a step back. “Excuse me?” How had he figured out what she was up to?

He drew his eyebrows together. “I was kidding, Heidi. I know about the problem with who owns the ranch, and that you want to earn enough to buy out my mom. What I’m paying you will go toward the debt.”

She breathed an inward sigh of relief. “You’re okay with that?”

“Honestly? No. I’d rather she stayed here. She loves the ranch. Always did. So did I. I’d prefer the two of you worked out a solution.”

She thought about the plans Rafe had for the land. “I’m willing, but I don’t think ‘compromise’ is your brother’s favorite word.”

“You’ve met him, then?”

She smiled. “More than once.”

“Then you know Rafe is big on winning. It comes from when we were kids.”

“Because he had to take care of the family? As much as a kid can?”

“You’ve heard the story.”

“Not all of it, but bits and pieces. I know he’s not a bad person.”

“Just difficult?” Shane asked.

“That works.”

She felt his gaze on her, but wasn’t going to say any more. Her feelings for Rafe were complicated. If he wasn’t going behind everyone’s back with those houses, she could like him a lot more. If she hadn’t made love with him, disliking him would be a whole lot easier.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Shane told her.

“Can I get that in writing.”

He touched her arm. “Smell that?”

She took a breath. The blending of meat and barbecue sauce drifted to her. “What is it?”

“Dinner. Mom’s making her famous ribs. Once you get a taste of them, everything will seem a whole lot better.”

“You’re a simple guy.”

“I know what I like.”

“An excellent quality,” she agreed, thinking it was a shame she couldn’t feel that sexual hum when she was around this Stryker brother. Falling for Shane would have made life so much easier.

* * *

HEIDI HAD A BATCH OF FETA to prep before dinner. She’d just collected all the equipment she would need when Rafe appeared at the door.

“Need some help?” he asked.

She wanted to tell him no, that she could handle this herself, but she made the mistake of looking at him before she spoke, and found she couldn’t look away.

There was something about the man’s eyes, she thought. Or maybe just the man himself. Something that made her want to get lost in him, to be held by him, even loved by him. And to think her grandfather had raised her to be smarter than that….

“I’m making feta,” she said.

Rafe groaned. “Why do there have to be so many kinds of cheese? Can’t you specialize in one kind? I could learn how to do one.”

Despite her confusion, the ache in her chest and the way being around him made her breathing uneven, she laughed. “Learning about cheese isn’t part of your job description.”

“Can I help, anyway?”

“Sure.”

He’d assisted her before, so he walked over to the sink to scrub his hands without being asked. When he’d dried them carefully, he pulled on plastic gloves and joined her at the table. Several molds lay on the table.

“Here’s the plan,” she began.

“There’s a plan? This isn’t just random?”

She removed the weights on the molds and then uncovered them. Rafe peered into the first mold.

“Not impressive.”