silent, waiting.
âSixteen years ago,â he continued, âyour father hired me at Springer. Iâmââ
The rest of his thought was cut short and he pressed his lips together. He took a moment to inhale, and Libbyâs gaze unwittingly darted due south as his chest expanded. She blinked, and immediately directed her eyes to his.
âLetâs just say Iâm grateful to him.â
He went quiet. Once she realized he didnât mean to say more, she pulled open the refrigerator, placed the apples in the bin, then shut the door, pausing there with her hand on the stainless steel handle.
âYou went to the trouble to search me out,â she said, âand offer my dad your help during this crisis, all because he gave you a job sixteen years ago?â She raised her brows. âMust have been one hell of a job.â
Moving across the room, she reached for the coffeepot and began filling it with water.
The sigh Rafe emitted sounded resigned. âHe made me a security guard. Gave me a fair wage. A job with health benefits. Saw to it that I received thorough training. And I was able to use that training for more lucrative employment after I left Springer.â
As he talked, she placed a paper filter into the basket of the coffeemaker and spooned in the ground beans. Something about Rafe Jamesâs motives just didnât ring true. His manner wasâ¦reserved. Cautious. And had been since heâd first appeared out on the front yard. She poured the water into the reservoir and snapped on the machine.
Libby had been hurt by one secretive man in her past. She wasnât about to fall prey to anotherâin any aspect of her life.
Whirling around to face him, she blurted, âSo let me get this straight. You went to the trouble to search me out, and you want to help my dad, all because he gave you ajob and properly trained you for that job.â She shrugged. âSeems to me my dad was only fulfilling his responsibilities.â
Her short, sharp laugh didnât hold much humor, but conveyed instead a huge measure of skepticism. âMy father has worked for Springer for nearly thirty years. Iâm sure heâs hired lots of people. My front door is going to fall off its hinges if every single one of those grateful people come racing to help.â
A thunderous storm gathered in his mahogany eyes. She hadnât meant to make him angry, but she felt it necessary to be blunt about his flimsy reasoning. Almost of their own volition, her arms crossed tightly over her body.
He stood, and the sheer size of him coupled with his surly expression was a daunting sight, to say the least. A person with any sense at all would feel afraid. However, she didnât, and that wasnât because her brain cells had suddenly gone dim, but because, although muscles bunched in his shoulders and ire sparked in his dark eyes, she knew in her heart she was perfectly safe with this man.
âLook, Ms. Corbett, youâre right when you said your father has hired lots of people over the years. And many of them are just like me.â
The emphasis he placed on those last three words made her frown.
Just like him? He was Native American. Most probably from the Mokee-kittuun tribe living on the Crooked Arrow Reservation just outside of town. But what did his ethnic group have to do with this? Although the question disturbed her, the confusion she felt kept her silent.
âFor years,â he continued, âthe people from the rez werenât given a second glance when they applied for work at Springer. Your father did everything he could to change that. And as he moved up the corporate ladder, he continued in his efforts. Continued to treat us with fairness and respect.â
As she listened, her shoulders tensed until tiny needles of pain began shooting up her neck. In all the years that her father had worked at Springer, heâd never once intimated that there was any kind of