Summer Days (Fool's Gold #7)

Heidi shook her head because she couldn’t possibly speak. Rafe      had gone on a date? After all that had happened between them? What about all      they’d been through together? The sex, the conversation and laughter? She’d      fallen in love with him, and he’d gone on a date?

Fury blended with pain, the combination uncomfortably close to      how she’d felt when she’d had the flu. Tears threatened, but she knew she      couldn’t risk crying. Not in front of May and Glen. They would ask questions,      and she didn’t have any answers she could share with them.

“How long until dinner?” she asked, hoping her voice sounded      normal.

“About fifteen minutes.”

“Great. I need to make a call. I want to let Annabelle know I’m      all right.”

“Of course, dear.”

Heidi left the room and got her cell. She stepped outside, then      pushed the button to phone her friend.

“Hey, you,” Annabelle said when she answered. “I heard you were      sick. Everything okay?”

“I’m better now.” Better and worse, she thought. “It’s time.      Can you contact the people you know?”

There was a pause. Heidi had asked Annabelle to wait to      announce the cave-painting find, and her friend had agreed. But that had been      before. Everything was different now.

“Of course,” Annabelle told her. “I’ll make the call right      now.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

RAFE PACED THE LENGTH of the living room of his

mother’s house, holding his cell phone to his ear. “No. I don’t know how to make myself more clear. I’m not going on any more dates, Nina.”

“You’re not being reasonable,” his matchmaker told him. “Tell me what was wrong with the last woman. She was everything you said you wanted. Intelligent, reasonable, successful in her job, but interested in being a stay-at-home mom. Do you know how hard it is to find that combination? On top of that, she was pretty. You asked for the moon and I gave you the moon, and now you’re telling me you’re not interested?”

“This isn’t a good time for me,” Rafe said.

Lately everything in his life seemed complicated. Dante was bugging him about the business, he knew he couldn’t stay here indefinitely, and yet he didn’t want to leave. And then there was Heidi. On the surface, everything was fine between them, but sometimes when she looked at him, there was something in her eyes. If he had to put a name to it, he would say it was disappointment.

None of which made sense, but he couldn’t escape the feeling that something was wrong. The last thing he needed right now was to be dating.

“If it’s about the money, send me a bill,” he said firmly. “I know you’ve done a good job, Nina. I appreciate the effort. I’m happy to recommend you to anyone you want. But I’m not interested in seeing anyone right now.”

“Is there someone else?”

“No,” he said quickly, then wondered if he was lying.

“Tell me what went wrong on your date. Because she said it was amazing.”

He held in a groan. He didn’t want to tell her what was wrong. In truth, the woman had been fine. It was him. No, it wasn’t him, dammit. It was Heidi. He didn’t want to go out with someone else. He didn’t want to talk about music or politics or British castles. He wanted to talk about cheese and goats and the latest gossip from town. He wanted to look into Heidi’s green eyes, he wanted to see her smile and hear her laugh. He wanted her in his bed. That single night had done nothing to quench his thirst for her.

“I’m hanging up now, Nina. We can have this conversation when I’m back in San Francisco.”

“And when will that be?”

“I have no idea.”

With that, he pushed the end button and stuck his cell phone back in his shirt pocket.

Ms. Jennings and Dante both wanted to hear from him, but they were going to have to wait. What he needed was a good, long ride on Mason. That would clear his head and then he could think.

He crossed the living room and opened the front door. He was halfway down the porch stairs when a white van with a satellite dish on the roof pulled onto the property. He didn’t recognize the TV station listed, or the pictures of the local-news broadcasters. Seconds later, a second van drove in, this one with the call letters of a San Francisco TV station with a network affiliation.

The doors of the vans opened and several people poured out. Guys went to work on equipment, while a well made-up woman and a guy also wearing makeup walked toward him.

“We’re looking for the owner of the ranch,” the woman said. She glanced at her smartphone. “Heidi Simpson.”

“Right here.”

He glanced over his shoulder and saw Heidi had stepped outside. He stared at her, trying to figure out what was different. She still wore jeans and boots, but she was somehow dressed better. She had on a blouse instead of a T-shirt and was wearing makeup—not as much as the TV people, but more than usual. Her hair was loose and wavy. He looked closer. She was wearing earrings. She never wore earrings.

“What’s going on?” he demanded. “What are they doing here?”