Once a Rebel. Sheri WhiteFeather

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      “Is there something special you wanted to talk to me about?” she asked.

      Suddenly Ethan had the urge to bolt. He didn’t know what to say, how to explain his compulsion to see her at this hour, so he faked it the best he could. “We didn’t have much time to visit earlier, to catch up on old times.”

      She smoothed the Aztec-printed placemat in front of her. “You had an appointment.”

      “I’m not in a hurry now.” Which was a lie, of course. He was anxious as hell, impatient to cross the finish line, to have a zipper-blasting affair with her. He’d always been sexually obsessed with her, but things had been complicated when they were young.

      She tilted her head. “So that’s your only agenda? To catch up on old times?”

      Guilt clawed at his chest. She’d come home to be with Ryan, to help him face the prospect of death. Tearing up the sheets with a man from her past didn’t factor into the equation. “You think I have ulterior motives? Me? The guy who never even kissed you?”

      Susan appeared to be pondering his words. And worse yet, she was assessing his body language. He could tell by the way she looked at him. He wondered if she could see through him, if that was part of her job, something psychologists of her caliber were able to do.

      “You didn’t come here tonight to see how much I’ve changed? To decide if I’m still a bad girl deep inside?”

      He cursed beneath his breath, wishing he’d stayed away from her. “I came here because—”

      The whistle on the kettle blew, nearly jarring him out of his skin. She hopped up, bumping the table, rattling his emotions.

      “I’ll go get our tea,” she said.

      He waited in the dining room. Once the kettle stopped making noise, the house fell into a slumberous hush. Nothing stirred but his heart.

      Trying to relax, Ethan looked around. The Spanish-style decor appealed to him. He liked the heavy woods and rich textures.

      Susan returned with a clay-colored tray that held two stoneware cups, a small variety of tea bags, a bowl of sugar and a cow-shaped creamer.

      He chose an herbal blend that came in an orange packet, but he didn’t add anything to it. Susan picked the same flavor, doctoring hers with sugar and milk.

      The drink was warm against his throat, more soothing than he expected. And he was glad she’d provided sturdy cups. His hands were too big for delicate china.

      “Go ahead and finish what you were going to say,” she told him. “Tell me why you’re really here.”

      He opted for honesty. But not complete honesty. He was keeping his hunger to himself. “It bugged me that you didn’t stop by today.”

      “I considered it. But I didn’t want you to think I was starting that old cycle again. Throwing myself at you.”

      Her admission gave him a boost of confidence. “Maybe we could do something together. Go on a date or something.”

      “A date?” She sounded intrigued yet wary, still unsure of his intentions.

      He backed off a bit, lifting one shoulder in an easy shrug. “Just something casual.”

      She sucked in a breath. “Like what?”

      “We could go for a ride tomorrow afternoon. It’s supposed to warm up.” And he was willing to rearrange his schedule to spend some time with her. “Around noon?”

      “Do you have a horse that would suit me? I never was a skilled rider.”

      “I’ve got a gentle old mare. I inherited her from one of my clients. I got roped into some dogs, too. And there’s a wild squirrel that pesters me for attention.”

      She gave him a sweet smile. “You were always good with strays. With the wild ones, too.”

      Grateful, he returned her smile. He’d always considered her a stray. And she’d been as wild as they come. “We can have a picnic. I can pick up some deli food.”

      “Why don’t you let me pack our lunch? It will be my contribution to the date.”

      “Thanks. That sounds great. I’ll trailer the horses to the hunting cabin ahead of time. You can meet me there instead of the barn.”

      She agreed, and he finished his tea and left before it got too late. But as they said goodbye, they parted without any physical contact. No hug, no kiss on the cheek.

      Nothing that indicated what tomorrow would bring.

      The following morning a puffy blue sky presided over leafy plants and flowering perennials. Susan shared the inner courtyard with Lily and Ryan, who sat across from her at a glass-topped table. This was Susan’s favorite place on the Double Crown. An old-fashioned swing was positioned beneath a vine-draped arbor, and a fountain bubbled in the morning air.

      Breakfast consisted of a Spanish omelet, buttered toast, orange juice and coffee. Ryan added more salsa to his omelet, and Susan was glad to see him up and about, enjoying quality time with his wife.

      “You look pretty this morning,” Lily said to Susan.

      “Thank you.” Susan was dressed in a red T-shirt and Wrangler jeans. Her boots, a sorrel shade of brown, sported a heart design on the toes. She’d fussed over her appearance, taking extra care with her hair and makeup. She’d tried to create a natural look, something that suited her outdoor date with Ethan.

      Ryan squinted at Susan, the lines around his eyes crinkling his tanned skin. “You don’t seem very hungry.”

      She glanced up from her plate. “I usually eat a light breakfast. Besides, I’m going on a picnic with Ethan, and I’m trying to save room.”

      The older man smiled. “Well, that didn’t take long, did it? You’ve only been here for one day and you two made plans already.”

      “Don’t tease me. I’m already nervous.” She checked her watch. “I’ve been up since the crack of dawn.” And now she still had two hours to go. But she’d already fried a batch of chicken and filled a plastic container with homemade potato salad.

      Ryan’s smile shifted to his wife. “We decided to sleep in. To cozy up a bit.”

      A girlish blush stained Lily’s cheeks, and Susan wondered what it would feel like to have a husband, to turn off the alarm clock and snuggle in a pair of strong arms, to know he would always be there.

      No, she thought, her emotions turning sad. He wouldn’t always be there. If marriage didn’t end in divorce, then it ended in death.

      There was no pain-free escape.

      “Tell me about Jason Jamison,” she said, her mind drifting to the criminal who’d been haunting her family.

      Ryan set down his fork. “He’s a madman. A disgruntled relative.”

      “He’s one of us?”

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