Summer Days (Fool's Gold #7)(30)

“I’ll be in touch to set up that dinner. It’s good to have you back.”

“I’m not back.”

Ethan opened the driver’s-side door of his truck. “People say that a lot around here, and yet they never seem to leave. You might be more ‘back’ than you think, Rafe.”

* * *

AT SEVEN-THIRTY THAT NIGHT, the sun had yet to drift fully below the horizon. Rafe sat on the front-porch steps of the old house, a bottle of beer between his feet.

It had been a good day, he thought, shifting slightly. His muscles protested the movements, reminding him that building a fence was hard work, even with a motorized fence-post digger and plenty of help. His shoulders ached. Despite the gloves he’d worn, he had a few cuts on his hands, along with several blisters. He should probably be pissed, but he felt a sense of pride when he studied the straight, strong fence line. They’d made a good start. With the help of the guys Ethan had sent, it would only take a couple of weeks to get the fence line finished. Then they would move on to the barn.

He checked in with his office regularly. Ms. Jennings kept him informed on the most important projects. His days usually consisted of meetings and negotiations, contracts and travel. At the end of twelve or fourteen hours, he’d done plenty but couldn’t point to any one thing that had been finished. When a deal finally closed, he was already so deep into the next one, he rarely stopped to notice, let alone celebrate.

He’d thought being stuck in Fool’s Gold would be like serving time in hell. Maybe it would come to that, but today it hadn’t been too bad.

His cell phone rang. He pulled it from his shirt pocket. “Stryker.”

“Miss me?”

He grinned at his friend’s words. “No.”

Dante chuckled. “How wrong you are, and you’ll know it, too, when I tell you what happened today.”

Dante explained how he’d filed court documents, charmed a judge and done his best to once again make sure the company didn’t just win, but also crushed the opposition.

“Impressive,” Rafe said, then took a swallow of his beer.

Instead of paying attention to the details that would gain him millions, he found himself listening to the sounds from inside. The low rumble of conversation and the familiar intro music to his mother’s favorite game show. Heidi had gone upstairs after dinner. Would she come down again later?

Except for raving about his mother’s lasagna, Heidi had been silent at the table. She hadn’t looked at him once and had resisted any attempts at conversation. May had fussed over her, wondering if she didn’t feel well. Rafe suspected Heidi’s actions were more about what she’d said yesterday than any health issues.

When had she started thinking about them sleeping together? And, while it was all fine and good that she’d decided she wouldn’t sleep with him, her announcement had had the opposite effect on him. He’d been unable to think about much else.

“You’re not listening to me,” Dante said.

“Sorry. Distractions.”

“Goats?”

“Not exactly.”

“A woman?”

“Any other business?” Rafe asked.

“That’s a yes. Goat girl? She’s not your type.”

“What does that mean?”

“Since your divorce, you’ve preferred a different kind of woman. Beautiful, sure, but the kind who wouldn’t know a real emotion if it bit her on the ass. Heidi’s different.”

“When did you become an expert?”

“I’m just saying.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

Rafe pushed the button to end the call, then slipped the phone back into his shirt pocket. He took another swallow of his beer, knowing Dante was right. Heidi wasn’t like the other women who drifted in and out of his life. She was more down-to-earth. Besides, his plans for the ranch included making sure his mother owned it and Heidi didn’t. All the more reason to avoid her.

The screen door opened, and the woman on his mind stepped out, into the rapidly cooling evening air. She walked onto the porch, then came to a stop when she saw him.

“Oh, sorry.” She started to turn around.

“Wait.” He moved to the side on the step, making room for her. “Join me.”

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

Her gaze darted around the porch, as if searching for an excuse to say no, then she sighed, and moved toward him.

She sat down, holding herself stiffly. The scent of vanilla drifted to him. For once, her blond hair was loose rather than in the braids she favored. She wore a long-sleeved T-shirt over jeans and boots. Nothing sexy or enticing. Nothing that should have appealed to him. Yet he was aware of her, of how it would be to close the distance and have her lean against him.

“The fence looks good,” she said.

“Uh-huh.”

“Glen said you worked hard.”

“You sound surprised.”

She glanced at him, then faced front again. “You seem like more of a manager.”

“Better at giving orders than taking them?”

Her mouth turned up in a smile. “We both know that’s true.”

“Fair enough, but I can put in a fence if I have to. Until now, I’ve done my best to make sure I don’t have to.”