Finally a Family

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“Coyotes keep you awake?”

“Was that what that howling was?”

“Yeah. They were actually pretty quiet tonight. Usually they’re singing all around the yard.”

Was she imagining it or did his voice hold an extra note of glee?

“I’m sure I’ll get used to it.” She didn’t have a choice now, did she? “So what did you want?”

“My coat.” Ethan slipped it over his shirt and shoved his hands in the pockets. “Sorry I disturbed you. I won’t do it again.”

His casual dismissal, on top of the roller coaster of emotions she had just endured, kindled her anger.

“Maybe you should give me the keys and then it won’t happen again,” she said.

Ethan stopped, slowly pivoted back to face her, his expression grim. “What did you just ask me?”

“I’m sure you heard me. You’re only a couple of feet away.”

Ethan closed the small distance and came to stand directly in front of her. If he was trying to intimidate her, he was almost succeeding. Almost.

“This farm isn’t yours. Yet. And if I have my way, you won’t be able to lay any claim to it. But until the title is transferred to your name, I have as much right to come and go in this house as you do. I’m sorry I scared you and in the future I’ll try not to disturb you. I’ll respect your privacy, but I’m not giving you the keys to my house.”

Hannah tried to stare him down, her anger with him shifting and settling. “Fine. But I’m holding you to the promise to respect my privacy.”

“You don’t need to. Unlike most women, I keep my promises.”

She didn’t know where that came from. “Then you are a rarity among men,” she snapped back. “A lot of the men I know don’t comprehend the meaning of the word.”

They faced each other down, their words heavy with unspoken meaning.

“I’ll leave the dog here for you. He’ll keep the coyotes at bay.” Then Ethan gave a short laugh, turned and left, closing the door quietly behind him.

Hannah leaned against the wall, her arms and legs rubbery with delayed reaction.

“See,” she said to Scout, who was standing beside her, filling the ensuing silence with false bravado. “Nothing to be afraid of after all.”

Something warm was lying alongside her.

Hannah slowly opened her eyes, feeling disoriented. The room was full of light. The door was all wrong. Where was she?

She heard a light snuffle, then a sigh and her heart jumped again as she sat up, pulling her blankets up and around herself.

A pair of brown eyes, almost buried in long brown hair stared back at her. A pink tongue hung out of its mouth.

Scout. The dog angled its head to one side, as if studying her.

“I’m guessing you’re used to sleeping here,” she said, reaching out to stroke its head. “But I’m afraid that you’re going to have to get unused to this. I don’t share my bed with anyone, or anything. Period. You understand?”

The dog turned his head, as if listening for something only he could hear.

“More coyotes out there?” Hannah fondled his ears, smiling.

But the dog jumped off the bed and stood by her bedroom door, whining.

Hannah got up and checked her watch. “Six o’clock? Are you kidding me?” It was too light for six o’clock. It was too early for six o’clock.

She trudged to the door, opened it, and the dog scampered out of the room, his feet pounding down the stairs.

“Hey, there, Scout,” she heard Ethan whisper.

“You don’t need to be all quiet. I’m awake,” Hannah called, pushing down her annoyance that he had gained entrée into the house yet again.

“Good morning,” Ethan yelled from below. “I’ve just come to get my dog.”

“I thought I locked the door,” Hannah yelled back, her anger from the previous night spilling over into her voice.

“Why don’t you come down here so we don’t have to yell back and forth at each other,” Ethan shouted.

“No.” Bad enough that he had seen her in her ratty housecoat last night. She wasn’t about to repeat the performance. Next time he saw her, she was going to be fully dressed.

“If you want eggs for breakfast, you’ll have to wait,” Ethan said.

“For what?”

“I have to gather them yet.”

“From where?”

“The grocery store.”

“What?”

“I’m kidding. I have to get them from the chickens.”

Hannah pulled her housecoat closer around her and shook her head. Egg-laying chickens? What was this, the Waltons come to life?

“Do you want some milk?” he asked.

“No. Thanks. Eggs will be fine though.” She didn’t want to contemplate the milk’s origin. She waited until she heard the door close then hurried downstairs and, even though Ethan had the keys, she locked it once more. Maybe he would get the hint.

She pulled aside the thin curtain covering the window of the door and watched as Ethan strode across the yard, his hands in his pockets, his stride sure, his dog trotting alongside him, looking up with what looked suspiciously like adoration.

A man and his dog. A man in charge of his world.

A pain in the neck.

Hannah scurried upstairs and showered. She pulled her still-damp hair back and covered it with a bandanna. Makeup? Nope. She was out in the country and she wasn’t going to dress up for some Neanderthal who broke into people’s houses and scared them half to death.

She returned to the bedroom and finished unpacking the precious few clothes she had taken along. Hannah had left a message with her landlord to get Lizzie to pack up her stuff and put it in storage. That was the least her supposed friend could do for her. There was no way she was going to call Lizzie herself. Not now. Maybe never.