The Barefoot Summer(40)

“As a person or as a killer?” she asked.

“As a person for sure. The jury is still out on the killer issue, but my gut says that I might have been wrong there, too. Time will tell,” he answered.

“Well, we got that hoity-toity business out of the way and maybe a step away from me being one of the bad guys you chase. Now, where do I find the makings for a salad?”

“Left bottom drawer in the refrigerator,” he said.

When she opened the fridge, he reached around her to get the steaks, and his hand brushed her side. Sparks flew, but she attributed them to hunger, not attraction.

“How do you like your steak, Kate?” he asked. “Oh, and while we are cooking, we’ll have jalape?o poppers for an appetizer.”

“Medium rare. I love poppers,” she answered.

The small pan of cooking oil heated quickly, and he dropped four poppers in, waited until they floated, and dipped them out. He added four more and nodded toward her. “They are best when they’re hot. Help yourself.”

She picked up one of the poppers and bit off the end. Just the right amount of cream cheese and bacon mixed with a spice that she didn’t recognize. Was that chili powder?

“These are amazing, Waylon. It’s so smart to have that grill right on the stove,” she said.

“Mama insisted on it. She loved having it inside the house where she could fix the rest of the meal at the same time.” He bit into a popper and smiled. “Got plenty of chili pepper in this batch, didn’t I?”

“Just the right amount.” She reached for a second one.

“So are you coming back tomorrow?”

“Maybe.” She glanced through the archway to the dark living room. It reminded her of the little place she’d had before Conrad—cozy and comfortable.

“It’s not a big house, but we didn’t need anything else.”

She tore lettuce into small pieces and then added a diced tomato and cheese cubes to the bowl. He leaned against the counter and watched. Strangely enough, it didn’t make her the least bit uncomfortable.

“Mama never wanted a big house until sale time. Then she would have liked a big dining room so we could have the top bidders in the house for a private supper.”

“Sale time?” she asked.

“We have a cattle sale in the fall. We cull the herd. There’s a sale barn on the north side of the property. I’ll show it to you sometime. It has stalls for the cattle we want to sell, a balcony for the buyers, and a ring for the auctioneer to bring in the merchandise. It usually starts on Friday, and Saturday night when it’s over, we have a huge party for everyone in the community.”

“I’d love to see it, and a cattle sale—it sounds like fun,” she said. “Do folks get to attend whether they buy anything or not?” She finished making the salad and set it on the table.

He slapped the steaks on the grill. “That’s right. Everyone looks forward to the Kramer party every year. We’ve got a couple of hands who smoke a beef, and the women all bring side dishes.”

“Like a huge potluck?”

“Something like that.” He circled her waist with his hands and moved her away from the bar into the kitchen nook.

She was sure that later when she examined her skin, his handprint would have left a mark from the sheer heat that radiated through her entire body.

“I’m glad they didn’t build anything bigger. I like the coziness of a small house.”

She heard every word, but she was more interested in the feelings his hand evoked. She hadn’t felt so alive in years, maybe in her entire life.

She could see two buttery-soft brown leather recliners placed at either end of a long matching sofa facing a huge stone fireplace with bookcases on either side. The room reminded her so much of her father’s study that she got weepy eyed.

“Do you have an office?”

He shook his head. “I pay a CPA to take care of all the financial stuff. Once a month I take her the receipts, and every three months I pick up the paperwork for taxes. This isn’t a huge operation, Kate. Nothing like your oil company. By Texas standards, it’s a hobby farm. I run about two hundred head of cattle. We grow our own hay, and I have one full-time employee who lives in a trailer here—Johnny was born on the ranch.”

“And the rest of your employees?”

“Live in the area and drive to work. I hire a lot of high school and college kids for summer work and for the cattle sale in the fall, which is a small affair when you consider what some sales involve,” he said.

He hit a button on the microwave, and the aroma of cheesy potatoes mixed with that of the grilled steak filled the room. Conrad had not cooked, so this scenario was a first time for her, and she liked it.

When the steaks and potatoes were on the table, Waylon bowed his head and said a quick grace. “Mama insisted on us giving thanks. It was ingrained so deeply into my being that I still do it without thinking.”

“That’s nice.” She smiled.

Maybe she should give him the letters after all. It appeared that he genuinely wanted the case settled, and what was in those letters from Iris to Darcy could help him do that, but she wanted to see what was going to happen with that will before she made up her mind.

“I have ice cream for dessert. Would you like to take it and coffee to the living room?” he said when they’d finished their supper.