Finding Home Read Free Page A

dripping down her back from the ponytail she’d tucked through the hole in her cap, but she didn’t bother to remedy that. Instead, she watched him narrowly, wary of double meanings. There were always double meanings with Colt Dickenson. “You need a ride home.”
    He gave her a solemn nod, seeming to have his smile under control. “Yeah.”
    â€œHow’d you get here then?”
    â€œToby gave me a lift.”
    â€œWhy don’t you just have him lift you on back?”
    â€œHe’s got a trailer full of horses to take care of.” He did grin now, but cautiously, almost innocently. “You wanna buy them, too?”
    She considered telling him to get out, to shut up, to drop dead for all she cared. But at twenty-eight years of age she was a little long in the tooth for such dramatics. “Put your seat belt on,” she ordered and started up Ol’ Puke. Well into its third decade, the Chevy truck ran loud enough to rattle the fenders.
    â€œI don’t think it has a seat belt,” Dickenson said.
    She scowled at him as she pulled out of the parking lot. He was pushing aside a tattered envelope and a single rawhide glove, searching in the groove between the seats for the device.
    â€œThen just . . .” His forage through the detritus of her life was embarrassing. “Just don’t die until you get out. Okay?”
    â€œHell, Case, I didn’t think you cared,” he said.
    She snorted and he chuckled. They rolled along in silence for most of three miles. In the darkness up ahead two bucks stood at the side of the road, antlers raised, red eyes gleaming. They remained frozen for a moment, then leaped away, breaking a hole in the darkness.
    â€œI’m sorry about your dad.” His voice was quiet, devoid of humor for once.
    She didn’t look at him. “Thanks.”
    â€œHeart attack, huh?”
    â€œThat’s what the cardiologist said.”
    â€œWas he sick beforehand?”
    She shrugged. The movement felt stiff. “He never wanted to go to a doctor.”
    â€œBut everything seemed okay right up to the end?”
    â€œYes.” It was a bald-faced lie and surprisingly well delivered. She tightened her hands on the steering wheel and kept her gaze on the gravel road ahead. “I found him in the heifer pasture one morning.”
    â€œSo what brought you home in the first place?”
    â€œSome of us visit our families now and then, Dickenson.” Guilt made her tone sharper than she’d intended.
    â€œFor nine months?”
    How the devil did he know how long she’d been home? she wondered, but she kept her tone casual. “He needed a little help around the ranch. I’ll be going back to Saint Paul as soon as I can get things straightened out here.”
    â€œThings?”
    â€œI’ll have to sell the place.”
    There was a moment of absolute silence, then, “You’re selling the Lazy?”
    â€œA girl can’t . . .” She stopped herself before her father’s words escaped into the ether, though she had no reason to believe they were wrong. “This isn’t where I belong. Besides, I have to get back to work.”
    From the corner of her eye she could see him watching her, but he didn’t speak for a moment.
    â€œI hear you’re a secretary,” he said finally.
    Maybe it was his tone that put her back up. Maybe it was the fact that she was a secretary. “Administrative assistant.”
    â€œOh, sorry, I thought you were a secretary.”
    She felt her teeth grind. “You know, Dickie, not everything has to be a death-defying adventure.”
    He stared at her for a second, then chuckled. “I suppose not. Anyway, I guess congratulations are in order.”
    â€œCongratulations?” she said and turned toward him.
    He raised one brow. “You’re engaged, right?”
    â€œOh.” She felt herself blush and resented her fair Celtic