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Susan’s thoughts abruptly melted away as she watched the tall, lean rancher make his way toward her. Or maybe he was making his way toward the cemetery entrance in order to leave.
Unable to contain her curiosity, Susan moved directly into Duke’s path just before he passed her parents and her.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
It was a sunny day, and it was probably his imagination, but the sun seemed to be focusing on Susan’s hair, making some of the strands appear almost golden. Duke cleared his throat, wishing he could clear his mind just as easily.
Duke minced no words. He’d never learned how. “Same as you. Paying my last respects to someone who apparently meant a great deal to you. I figure she had to be a really nice person for you to cry as much as you did when she died.”
Susan took a deep, fortifying breath before answering him.
“She was,” she replied. “A very nice person.” She watched as the minister withdrew and the crowd began to thin out. The mourners had all been invited to her parents’ house for a reception. “It just doesn’t seem fair.”
Duke thought of his twin brother, of Damien spending the best part of his life behind bars for a crime he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt his brother hadn’t committed. They were connected, he and Damien. Connected in such a way that made him certain that if Damien had killed Walsh the way everyone said, he would have known. He would have felt it somehow.
But he hadn’t.
And that meant that Damien hadn’t killed anyone. Damien was innocent, and, after all this time, Duke still hadn’t come up with a way to prove it. It ate at him.
“Nobody ever said life was fair,” he told her in a stoic voice.
Susan didn’t have the opportunity to comment on his response. Her mother had suddenly decided to swoop down on them. More specifically, on Duke.
“Duke Colton, what a lovely surprise,” Bonnie Gene declared, slipping her arm through the rancher’s. “So nice of you to come. Such a shame about poor Miranda.” The next moment, she brightened and flashed her thousand-watt smile at him. “You are coming to the reception, aren’t you?” she asked as if it was a given, not a question.
Duke had had no intentions of coming to the reception. He still wasn’t sure what had prompted him to come to the funeral in the first place. Maybe it had been the expression he’d seen on Susan’s face. Maybe, by being here, he’d thought to ease her burden just a little. He really didn’t know.
He’d slipped into the last pew in the church, left before the mourners had begun to file out and had stood apart, watching the ceremony at the graveside. Had there been another way out of the cemetery, he would have used that and slipped out as quietly as he had come in.
Just his luck to have bumped into Susan and her family. Especially her mother, who had the gift of gab and seemed intent on sharing that gift with every living human being with ears who crossed her path.
He cleared his throat again, stalling and looking for the right words. “Well, I—”
He got no further than that.
Sensing a negative answer coming, Bonnie Gene headed it off at the pass as only she could: with verve and charm. And fast talk.
“But of course you’re coming. My Donald oversaw most of the preparations.” She glanced toward her husband, giving him an approving nod. “As a matter of fact, he insisted on it, didn’t you, dear?” she asked, turning her smile on her husband as if that was the way to draw out a hint of confirmation from him.
“I—”
Donald Kelley only managed to get out one word less than Duke before Bonnie Gene hijacked the conversation again.
Because of the solemnity of the occasion, Bonnie Gene was wearing her shoulder-length dark-brown hair up. She still retained the deep, rich color without the aid of any enhancements that came out of a box and required rubber gloves and a timer, and she looked approximately fifteen years younger than the sixty-four years that her birth certificate testified she was—and she knew it. Retirement and quilting bees were not even remotely in her future.
Turning her face up to Duke’s—separated by a distance of mere inches, she all but purred, “You see why you have to come, don’t you, Duke?”
It was as clear as mud to him. “Well, ma’am—not really.” Duke made the disclaimer quickly before the woman could shut him down again.
The smile on her lips was gently indulgent as she momentarily directed her attention to her husband. “Donald is his own number-one fan when it comes to his cooking. He’s prepared enough food to feed three armies today,” she confided, “and whatever the guests don’t eat, he will.” Detaching herself from Duke for a second, she patted her husband’s protruding abdomen affectionately. “I don’t want my man getting any bigger than he already is.”
Dropping her hand before Donald had a chance to swat it away, she reattached herself to Duke. “So the more people who attend the reception, the better for my husband’s health.” Bonnie Gene paused, confident that she had won. It was only for form’s sake—she knew men liked to feel in control—that she pressed. “You will come, won’t you?”
It surprised her that the man seemed to stubbornly hold his ground. “I really—”
She sublimated a frown, keeping her beguiling smile in place. Bonnie Gene was determined that Duke wasn’t going to turn her down. She was convinced she’d seen something in the rancher’s eyes in that unguarded moment when she’d caught him looking at her daughter.
Moreover, she’d seen the way Susan came to attention the moment her daughter saw Duke approaching. If that wasn’t attraction, then she surely didn’t know the meaning of the word.
And if there was attraction between her daughter and this stoic hunk of a man, well, that certainly was good enough for her. This could be the breakthrough she’d been hoping for. Time had a way of flying by and Susan was already twenty-five.
Bonnie Gene was nothing if not an enthusiastic supporter of her children, especially if she saw a chance to dust off her matchmaking skills.
“Oh, I know what the problem is,” she declared, as if she’d suddenly been the recipient of tongues of fire and all the world’s knowledge had been laid at her feet. “You’re not sure of the way to our place.” She turned to look at her daughter as if she had just now thought of the idea. “Susan, ride back with Duke so you can give him proper directions.”
Looking over her youngest daughter’s head, she saw that Linc was heading in their direction and his eyes appeared to be focused on Duke.
Fairly certain that Susan wouldn’t welcome the interaction with her overbearing friend right now, Bonnie Gene reacted accordingly. Slipping her arms from around Duke’s, she all but thrust Susan into the space she’d vacated.
“Off with you now,” Bonnie Gene instructed, putting a hand to both of their backs and pushing them toward the exit. “Don’t worry, your father and I will be right behind you,” she called out.
Without thinking, Susan went on holding Duke’s arm until they left the cemetery.
He made no move to uncouple himself and when she voluntarily withdrew her hold on him, he found that he rather missed the physical connection.
“I’m sorry about that,” Susan apologized, falling into step beside him.
He assumed she was apologizing for her mother since there was nothing else he could think of that required an apology.
“Nothing to be sorry for,” he replied. “Your mother was just being helpful.”
Susan laughed. She had no idea that the straightforward rancher could be so polite. She didn’t think he had it in him.
Learn something every day.
“No, she was just being Bonnie Gene. If you’re not careful, Mother can railroad you into doing all sorts of things and make you believe it was your idea to begin with.” There was a fondness in her voice as she described her mother’s flaw. “She thinks it’s her duty to take charge of everything and everyone around her. If she’d lived a hundred and fifty years ago, she would have probably made a fantastic Civil War general.”
Duke inclined his head as they continued walking. “Your mother’s a fine woman.”
“No argument there. But my point is,” Susan emphasized, “you have to act fast to get away if you don’t want to get shanghaied into doing whatever it is she has planned.”
“Eating something your dad’s made doesn’t exactly sound like a hardship to me.” Donald Kelley’s reputation as a chef was known throughout the state, not just the town.
Susan didn’t want Duke to be disappointed. “Actually, I made a lot of it.”
His eyes met hers for a brief moment. She couldn’t for the life of her fathom what he was thinking. The man had to be a stunning poker player. “Doesn’t sound bad, either.”
The simple compliment, delivered without any fanfare, had Susan warming inside and struggling to tamp down what she felt had to be a creeping blush on the outside. Pressing her lips together, she murmured, “Well, I hope you won’t be disappointed.”
“Don’t plan on being,” he told her. Duke nodded toward the vehicle he’d left parked at the end of the lot. “Hope you don’t mind riding in a truck, seeing as how you’re probably used to gallivanting around in those fancy cars.”
When it came down to matching dollar for dollar, the Coltons were probably richer than the Kelleys, but despite his distant ties to the present sitting president, Joseph Colton, Darius Colton didn’t believe in throwing money away for show. That included buying fancy cars for his sons.
Duke was referring to Linc’s sports car, Susan thought. He had to be because her own car was a rather bland sedan with more than a few miles and years on it. But it was a reliable vehicle that got her where she had to go and that was all that ultimately mattered to her.
“I like trucks,” she told him, looking at his. “They’re dependable.”
In response, Susan thought she saw a small smile flirt with Duke’s mouth before disappearing again. And then he shrugged a bit self-consciously.
“If I’d known I’d be heading out to your place, I would’ve washed it first,” he told her.
“Dirt’s just a sign left behind by hard work,” she said philosophically as she approached the passenger side of the vehicle.
Duke opened the door for her, then helped her up into the cab. She was acutely aware of his hands on her waist, giving her a small boost so that she could avoid any embarrassing mishap, given that she was wearing a black dress and high heels.
A tingle danced through her.
This wasn’t the time or place to feel things like that, she chided herself. She’d just buried her best friend. This was a time for mourning, not for reacting to the touch of a man who most likely wasn’t even aware that he had touched her.
Duke caught himself staring for a second. Staring at the neat little rear that Susan Kelley had. Funerals weren’t the time and cemeteries weren’t the place to entertain the kind of thoughts that were now going through his head.
But there they were anyway, taking up space, coloring the situation.
Maybe, despite the best of intentions, he shouldn’t have shown up at the funeral, he silently told himself.
Too late now, Duke thought as he got into the driver’s seat and started up the truck. With any luck, he wouldn’t have to stay long at the reception.
Chapter 4
“Take the next turn to the—”
There was no GPS in Duke’s truck because he hated the idea of being told where to turn and, essentially, how to drive by some disembodied female voice. He’d been driving around, relying on gut instincts and keen observation, for more years than were legally allowed.
For the last ten minutes he’d patiently listened to Susan issuing instructions and coming very close to mimicking a GPS.
Enough was enough. He could go the rest of the way to the Kelleys’ house without having every bend in the road narrated.
“You can stop giving me directions,” he told her as politely as he could manage. “I know how to get to your place.”
She’d suspected as much, which was why she’d been surprised when he’d allowed her to come along to guide him to the big house in the first place.
“If you didn’t need directions, what am I doing in your truck? “ she asked him.
He spared Susan a glance before looking back at the road. “Sitting.”
Very funny. But at least this meant he had a sense of humor. Sort of. “Besides that.”
Duke shrugged, keeping his eyes on the desolate road ahead of him. “Seemed easier than trying to argue with your mother.”
She laughed. The man was obviously a fast learner as well. “You have a point.”
Since she agreed with him, Duke saw no reason to comment any further. Several minutes evaporated with no exchange being made between them. The expanding silence embraced them like a tomb.
Finally, Susan couldn’t take it any more. “Don’t talk much, do you? “
He continued looking straight ahead. The road was desolate but there was no telling when a stray animal could come running out.
“Nope.”
Obviously, he was feeling uncomfortable in her company. If her mother, ever the matchmaker, hadn’t orchestrated this, he wouldn’t even be here, feeling awkward like this, Susan thought. What had her mother been thinking?
“I’m sorry if you’re uncomfortable,” she apologized to him.
Duke spared her another glance. His brow furrowed, echoing his confusion. “What makes you think I’m uncomfortable?”
“Because you’re not talking.” It certainly didn’t take a rocket scientist to come to that conclusion, she thought.
Duke made a short, dismissive noise. Discomfort had nothing to do with his silence. He just believed in an economy of words and in not talking unless he had something to say. “I don’t do small talk.”
She was of the opinion that everyone did small talk, but she wasn’t about to get into a dispute over it. “Okay,” she acknowledged. “Then say something earth-shattering.”
For a moment, he said nothing at all. Then, because she was obviously not about to let the subject drop, he asked, “You always chatter like that?”
Blowing out a breath, she gave him an honest answer. “Only when I’m uncomfortable or nervous.”
“Which is it?”
Again, she couldn’t be anything but honest, even though she knew that if her mother was here right now, Bonnie Gene would be rolling her eyes at the lack of feminine wiles she was displaying. But playing games, especially coy ones, had never been her thing. “Both right now.”
Despite the fact that he had asked, her answer surprised him. “I make you nervous?”
He did, but oddly enough, in a good way. Rather than say yes, she gave him half an answer. “Silence makes me nervous.”
He nodded toward the dash. “You can turn on the radio.”
She didn’t feel like hearing music right now. Somehow, after the memorial service, it just didn’t seem right. What she wanted was human contact, human interaction.
“I’d rather turn you on—” As her words echoed back at her, Susan’s eyes widened with horror. “I mean, if you could be turned on.” Mortified, she covered her now-flushed face with her hands. “Oh, God, that didn’t come out right, either.”
Despite himself, the corners of his mouth curved a little. Susan looked almost adorable, flustered like that.
“That’s one of the reasons I don’t do small talk.” He eyed her for a second before looking back at the road. “I’d stop if I were you.”
“Right.”
Susan took a breath, trying to regroup and not say anything that would lead to her putting her foot in her mouth again. Even so, she had to say something because the silence really was making her feel restless inside. She reverted back to safe ground: the reason he’d been at the cemetery.
“It was very nice of you to come to the funeral,” she said. “Did you know Miranda well?”
