Lois Greiman - [Hope Springs 02] by Home Fires Page A

voice, but she held herself back. “You already asked him.”
    A muscle bunched in his jaw. Maybe it was his way of stopping any unwarranted information from spilling out. “I just want a damn roping horse.”
    “Go home,” she said and closed the door, but he caught it with his right hand.
    “Listen . . . I don’t like you owing . . .” He drew a deep breath as if to calm himself. “These big business guys . . .” He glanced toward the pastures again. Fire flared in his eyes. He gritted his teeth. “You don’t know what they’ll demand for their loans.”
    She raised her brows at him. “Did Emily tell you what I had for lunch, too?”
    “Everyone knows that realtor fellow comes around here a hell of a lot.”
    She made a face. “It just so happens that his daughter lives here.”
    “Right!” he said and chuckled without mirth. “How much do you know about him?”
    Anger. She felt it flare in her soul. It was as common as but-tonweed when he was around. “Well, I know he looks dreamy in a three-piece suit and Italian loafers.”
    For a moment she thought he would comment, but he stopped himself. “Sell me the bay, Case.”
    “For ten thousand dollars.”
    “Do you need more?” His voice was low as if he tried to stop the words.
    She stood there, flabbergasted. Holy Hannah, how much did he make on the rodeo circuit? “Are you drunk?”
    He shook his head. “Talking to you makes it look like a pretty good idea, though. You going to sell him to me or not?”
    “Not.”
    “Fine,” he said, and raising both hands in the air, backed away.
    “Fine,” she said.
    “Fine,” he repeated and stomped across the porch and into the darkness. In a moment, she heard his truck fire up. The headlights made a clean sweep across the bunkhouse and front yard before cleaving a path into the distance.
    She stood there listening to the silence settling back in.
    “You turned him down, didn’t you?”
    She squawked at the sound of Emily’s voice all but crackling in her ear.
    “Didn’t you?” she asked again, appearing only inches away.
    “Holy Hannah . . .” Casie put her hand to her chest. “You scared me half to—”
    “You’re ridiculous,” Emily said, and turning on her heel, waddled up the stairs to her bedroom.
    Sighing, Casie prepared to follow her, but a voice spoke from the darkness.
    “Hey, Case, you got a minute?” In a second, Brooks Hedley appeared in the porch’s diffused light.
    “Oh, yes, hi,” Casie said and hoped to hell this entire day was nothing more than a bad dream. “You probably want your guns back.”
    He shook his head once as he mounted the steps. “Looks like maybe you need them more than I do.”
    “What?” she asked, and stepping onto the porch, closed the door behind her.
    “Dickenson giving you trouble?” he asked.
    “Who? Colt? Oh . . .” She cleared her throat. “No. We just . . .”
    “Because I’ll talk to him if you want me to.”
    About what? she wondered but didn’t ask. “No, it’s just a . . . little disagreement.”
    “About whether you should sleep with him or not?”
    “No!”
    He chuckled at the way she said it, then took the few steps that remained between them and sobered. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
    “What?”
    He shrugged, looking uncomfortable in the dim light. “Dickenson’s an okay guy, I guess. I mean . . . I don’t wanna spread any rumors or anything, I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
    “Okay how? What do you mean?”
    He glanced away. “It’s just that sometimes Dickenson ain’t real . . .” He shook his head. “Loyal.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “I mean, I understand why he done it. He was ranked pretty high on broncs and didn’t want to give up rodeo, but that don’t mean he couldn’t have married her. Or at least offered to take care of the kid.”
    She felt her stomach pitch. “What are you talking about?”
    “Jess,” he said, finding her gaze with his and holding it