A Little Bit Country: A Little Bit Country / Blackberry Summer. RaeAnne Thayne

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      The kitchen smelled of roasting beef and simmering apple crisp when Rorie let herself in the back door. It was an oddly pleasant combination of scents. Mary was nowhere to be seen.

      While she thought of it, Rorie reached for the telephone book and called the number listed for the garage in Riversdale.

      “Hello,” she said when a gruff male voice answered. “This is Rorie Campbell...the woman with the broken water pump. The one in Nightingale.”

      “Yeah, Miss Campbell, what can I do for you?”

      “I just wanted to be sure there wasn’t any problem in ordering the part. I don’t know if Clay...Mr. Franklin told you, but I’m more or less stuck here until the car’s repaired. I’d like to get back on the road as soon as possible—I’m sure you understand.”

      “Lady, I can’t make that pump come any faster than what it already is.”

      “Well, I just wanted to check that you’d been able to order one.”

      “It’s on its way, at least that’s what the guy in Los Angeles told me. They’re shipping it by overnight freight to Portland. I’ve arranged for a man to pick it up the following day, but it’s going to take him some time to get it to me.”

      “But that’s only three days.”

      “You called too late yesterday for me to phone the order in. Lady, there’s only so much I can do.”

      “I know. I’m sorry if I sound impatient.”

      “The whole world’s impatient. Listen, I’ll call you the minute it arrives.”

      She sighed. “Thanks, I’d appreciate it.”

      “Clay got your car here without a hitch, so don’t worry about that—he saved you a bundle on towing charges. Shipping costs and long-distance phone bills are going to be plenty high, though.”

      Rorie hadn’t even noticed that Dan’s shiny sports car wasn’t in the yard where Skip had originally left it. “So you’ll be calling me within the next day or two?” she asked, trying to hide the anxiety in her voice. And trying not to consider the state of her finances, already depleted by this disastrous vacation.

      “Right. I’ll call as soon as it comes in.”

      “Thank you. I appreciate it,” she said again.

      “No problem,” the mechanic muttered, obviously eager to end their conversation.

      When the call was finished, Rorie toyed with the idea of phoning Dan next. She’d been half expecting to hear from him, since she’d left the Franklins’ number with his secretary the day before. He hadn’t phoned her back. But there was nothing new to tell him, so she decided not to call a second time.

      Hesitantly Rorie replaced the telephone receiver, pleased that everything was under control—everything except her heart.

      * * *

      Dinner that evening was a strained affair. If it hadn’t been for Skip, who seemed oblivious to the tension between her and Clay, Rorie didn’t think she could have endured it. Clay hardly said a word throughout the meal. But Skip seemed more than eager to carry the conversation and Rorie did her best to lighten the mood, wondering all the time whether Clay saw through her facade.

      “While you’re here, Rorie,” Skip said with a sudden burst of enthusiasm, “you should learn how to ride.”

      “No, thank you,” she said pointedly, holding up her hand, as though fending off the suggestion. An introduction to King and Hercules was as far as she was willing to go.

      “Rain Magic would suit you nicely.”

      “Rain Magic?”

      “That’s a silly name Kate thought up, and Clay went along with it,” Skip explained. “He’s gentle, but smart—the gelding I mean, not Clay.” The younger Franklin laughed heartily at his own attempt at humor.

      Clay smiled, but Rorie wasn’t fooled; he hadn’t been amused by the joke, nor, she suspected, was he pleased by the reference to Kate.

      “No, thanks, Skip,” she said, hoping to bring the subject to a close. “I’m really not interested.” There, that said it plainly enough.

      “Are you afraid?”

      “A little,” she admitted truthfully. “I prefer my horses on a merry-go-round. I’m a city girl, remember?”

      “But even girls from San Francisco have been known to climb on the back of a horse. It’ll be good for you, Rorie. Trust me—it’s time to broaden your horizons.”

      “Thanks, but no thanks,” she told him, emphasizing her point by biting down on a crisp carrot stick with a loud crunch.

      “Rorie, I insist. You aren’t going to get hurt—I wouldn’t let that happen, and Rain Magic is as gentle as they come. In fact—” he wiggled his eyebrows up and down “—if you want, we can ride double until you feel more secure.”

      Rorie laughed. “Skip, honestly.”

      “All right, you can ride alone, and I’ll lead you around in a circle. For as long as you want.”

      Rorie shook her head and, amused at the mental picture that scenario presented, laughed again.

      “Leave it,” Clay said with sudden sharpness. “If Rorie doesn’t want to ride, drop it, okay?”

      Skip’s shocked gaze flew from Rorie to his brother. “I was just having fun, Clay.”

      His older brother gripped his water goblet so hard Rorie thought the glass might shatter. “Enough is enough. She said she wasn’t interested and that should be the end of it.”

      The astounded look left Skip’s features, but his eyes narrowed and he stiffened his shoulders in a display of righteous indignation. “What’s with you, Clay?” he shouted. “You’ve been acting like a wounded bear all day, growling at everyone. Who made you king of the universe all of a sudden?”

      “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll bring in the apple crisp,” Rorie said, and hurriedly rose to her feet, not wanting to be caught in the cross fire between the two brothers. Whatever they had to say wasn’t meant for her ears.

      The exchange that followed ended quickly, Rorie noted gratefully from inside the kitchen. Their voices were raised and then there was a hush followed by laughter. Rorie relaxed and picked up the dessert, carrying it into the dining room along with a carton of vanilla ice cream.

      “I apologize, Rorie,” Clay said soberly when she reentered the room. “Skip’s right, I’ve been cross and unreasonable all day. I hope my sour mood hasn’t ruined your dinner.”

      “Of course not,” she murmured, giving him a smile.

      Clay stood up to serve the dessert, spooning generous helpings of apple crisp and ice cream into each bowl.

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