Or at least be an excuse if the rancher woke.
The ranch house was as creaky as the one where she'd grown up. She tested each step before she took it but still managed to tweak one of the stairs. She froze, listening.
Cord must be a deep sleeper.
Downstairs, the floor was full of squeaking boards, especially as she passed through the living room. What a nasty tree.
It was maybe five feet tall. The fake pine needles must've been green at one time, but by now most of the paint—and most of the needles—had worn off. Cheap glass balls also had the paint worn off and were interspersed around the tree at uneven intervals.
She'd bet if she plugged in the lights, half of the string wouldn't work. Wires that old might even spark a fire.
There were no handmade kindergarten ornaments like Mama had always hung on the tree at home.
It was pretty sad. Why hadn't Cord put it away already?
We weren't close.
His words from earlier ping-ponged around the inside of her head as she ran a glass of tap water from the sink.
They weren't close. But Grandma had raised him? He’d said this was his grandma’s place. And the cutout pictures in the room upstairs had been fifteen years faded. Not thirty-five. It made sense.
She sipped the water, smiling a little at the mineral-rich taste. Well water.
She'd missed it.
Funny how many things you didn't know you'd miss until you couldn't go home again.
There was a scritch-scratch sound against the nearest door, and she jumped. She bobbled the water glass but caught it before it fell and shattered.
She strained her ears to hear over the thundering of her heart. Was that—? How had he found her?
A soft whine cut through the noise in her head.
The dog. It was just the dog. Outside.
Molly clutched the counter as she tried to steady her breathing and let her racing pulse return to normal.
The dog scratched again, and she really didn't want to wake up Cord. She needed to get on his good side if she was going to—somehow—convince him to let her stay.
She crept through the mudroom-slash-laundry and to the door. "Shh."
The dog whined again.
She shouldn't, but she turned the deadbolt and cracked the door open anyway.
Immediately, the collie's nose filled the crack. His tail thumped against the outside wall, banging with each wag. It sounded like someone knocking.
Snot nuggets. That was not achieving the goal of keeping the dog quiet.
She used a strategically placed knee to keep the dog in the cramped laundry room and shut the inside door that led to the kitchen.
His tail banged the washing machine, and the loud metallic thud was twenty times worse.
"Shh, buddy. Shh."
She couldn't help a tiny giggle as she knelt and then was knocked onto her butt by the enthusiastic dog. He wiggled his way onto her lap, licking her neck and chin.
"Hey, now. I don't make out on the first date," she protested in a whisper.
Finally, the dog calmed. It sat next to her, and she let her back rest against the washing machine. She kept her arm around the dog's furry side, buried her nose in the soft fur of his ruff.
Tears came hot and sudden to her eyes.
But dogs never told secrets. She used one wrist to wipe the tears away.
Listening to the dog's panting breaths was better than staring at a clock upstairs.
Would she ever feel safe again?
3
Something was burning.
Cord threw himself out of bed and was halfway down the stairs before he realized it was the scent of bacon grease.
Someone was cooking breakfast.
Molly's head popped through the kitchen doorway. "Good morning—"
Her words cut off at the same time that he realized he was wearing only a pair of basketball shorts.
Her gaze bounced off his bare chest. "I woke you up. Sorry."
He cleared his throat. "I'll just…" He hitched one thumb over his shoulder.
She ducked back into the kitchen, but not before he saw her gaze flick back to him.
He returned to his room to pull on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. He was buzzing with awareness. He'd felt that glance like a touch.
He had to get her out of here. Not only was she way too young for him, but it was obvious she was in trouble. Somebody skittish like she was needed more than he had left to give.
He glared at the clock before he stomped down the stairs. He'd gotten soft in his time away from the ranch. On a job site, you showed up at six-thirty or seven. Not oh-dark-thirty.
He was still squinty-eyed when he walked into the kitchen. Ice was pelting the kitchen window. It was not gonna be fun pitching hay for the cattle this morning.
He went straight to the coffeemaker even as his taste buds perked up.
He eyed the stove from his peripheral vision as he filled his mug.
She'd scrambled eggs, too, in addition to the bacon. And was rolling everything into... tortillas?
"I thought I'd make breakfast as a thank-you for letting me stay the night."
A nice gesture, but he wasn't changing his mind. She was out of here today.
He grunted, sipping his coffee. He swallowed the scalding liquid. "What's in this?"
She glanced up from the plate she was filling next to the stove. "Oh, I added a little cinnamon to the grounds. Like it?"
"No." He was a black coffee kind of guy. Why mess with a good thing?
"I also fed the dog for you."
Geez Louise. She was way too chipper this early in the morning.
"Are you going to sit?" She motioned to the table, which was conspicuously clean of all the clutter that'd been present last night. The pile of papers Mackie'd left him to deal with.
"What'd you do with my stuff?"
"I moved it to the living room so you could eat in here. I kept everything organized, don't worry. I'll put it back after I do the dishes."
She gave him a winning smile.
Not buying it.
"You aren't staying," he
