“I haven’t talked to her. I just heard about it.”
“I’m sure she’s disappointed,” Helen said. “Poor thing just had her knee replaced, you know.”
“It was her hip,” Raney corrected.
Which opened up a long and lively discussion about hips, knees, arthritic hands, and all sorts of postmenopausal female ailments Raney didn’t want to know about, so she let her mind drift until Ruthie said, “Speak of the devil.”
Raney followed her gaze out the grimy front window and saw Dalton standing on the sidewalk across the street, talking to Karla Jenkins.
“Is that the Cardwell boy?” Helen asked, squinting in Dalton’s direction. “Goodness gracious. He certainly has changed. How’d he get so big?”
Ruthie sniffed. “Supplements. They take all kinds of things in prison.”
“Dalton Cardwell didn’t take supplements,” Raney snapped. “Or anything. He just worked out a lot.”
“Hmmm.”
“Isn’t that the Jenkins girl with him?” Helen asked.
Marlene nodded. “Karla. They were an item before he went to prison. Head straight, Raney. I’m almost done.”
Raney stared at her reflection in the mirror, her mind eaten up with curiosity, her ears perked to the talk going on around her.
“Looks like they still might be,” Ruthie observed. “The way she’s clinging to his arm. She better watch out. I’ve read about ’roid rage.”
He doesn’t take steroids! Raney almost shouted.
“Heard she sent him a Dear John letter while he was in prison,” Marlene said, turning the chair enough that Raney could see what was going on across the street without moving her head.
“Not surprising,” Helen said. “Him being a convict and all.”
They didn’t look that chummy to Raney. In fact, Dalton seemed to be leaning away from Karla, despite her hold on his arm.
“They do make a handsome couple, though,” Helen observed. “Hard to believe they called him Beanpole in school.”
Across the street, Dalton and Karla separated, Dalton walking on toward the diner, Karla staring after him for a few moments, then turning and heading in the opposite direction.
Raney didn’t know what to make of it and wondered if this angry, unsettled churn in her stomach was what Dalton had felt when he’d seen her talking to Trip at the Roadhouse.
* * *
Dalton had just given Suze their orders when Raney walked in. Her hair didn’t look much different, but her face sure did. She was upset, and the way her eyes homed in on him, he figured he was the reason she was. What had he done now?
Karla. She must have seen him talking to Karla. Shit.
“Hey,” he said as she slid into the booth across from him. “Your hair looks great.”
No reaction, other than to ask if he’d ordered already.
“Suze just put it in.” Then realizing she was going to shut him out if he didn’t fess up, he said, “Guess who I just ran into.”
“Karla Jenkins. I saw you through the salon window. She has her nerve.”
Dalton gave her a questioning look.
“It was a tacky thing to do, writing you a Dear John letter in prison.”
Hell. Did everybody in town know about that? “She was moving to Fort Worth anyway.”
“How did that work out for her?”
“Apparently, not well.”
“So now she’s moving back?”
“Appears so.”
Suze brought their burgers and drinks. Dalton waited until she left, then said, “You answered my questions about the douche. I guess turnabout is fair play.”
Raney studied him in silence as she ate three of his fries.
Dalton couldn’t read her expression. That surprised him and made him nervous. He thought he knew all of her “looks.” Yet, watching her now, he doubted he would ever fully understand how her mind worked. She was a complicated woman. Which was one of the reasons he loved her. And the most important thing he’d learned about her was that she was as committed to honesty as he was . . . except for that one notable exception that could still send him bolting upright in the middle of the night, choking on fear and regret.
“Go ahead,” he prodded, breaking the long silence, “ask your questions.”
“There’s only one.” She took another fry. “Do you still care about her?”
“As a friend. That’s all. And I never cared for her the way I care for you.”
She ate two more fries, then nodded. “Good enough for me. You done with the ketchup?”
Dalton almost sagged in relief. If they hadn’t been in public, he would have leaned over the table and kissed her. The depth of his reaction made him realize how involved he’d become. Which was disconcerting. Over the last few years, he’d kept a large part of himself closed off. In combat and later, in prison, he had pushed emotion, expectation, even hope aside. But now, with Raney, anything was possible. It was like starting all over again.
“Can I tell you now that I love you?” he asked.
“Not yet.” She reached over and brushed something from the corner of his mouth. For a moment, her fingers lingered like she wanted to lean in and give him the kiss he’d denied himself a moment ago. Then she took her hand away and stole another fry from his plate. “But soon.”
Not the answer he’d hoped for. Pushing down his disappointment, he took a bite of burger, chewed, and swallowed. “You wouldn’t have to say it back.”
“I know. But when I do, I want to be sure. Those aren’t just words to me, Dalton. They’re a lifetime commitment.”
“No room for doubt?”
“None.” She tipped her head to the side and studied him, a tiny smile playing along her beautiful mouth. “Does that scare you?”
“That you won’t admit yet that you adore me beyond reason?” He took another bite. “I’ll manage.”
“Some people fear promises and obligations. I hope you’re not one of them.”
He wanted to tell her just how far he’d go to keep the promises he’d made, but of course, he couldn’t. Instead, he tried to put into words how he felt about her and his hopes of building a future with her by his side.
“The way I see it, Raney,” he said between fries, “throughout a lifetime, there’s only one thing a person
