She shifted a little in her seat. “Oh, yeah. That’s it. No coverage.”
“No games or anything? E-reader?”
She shifted again, looking away. “My phone...isn’t working right. So, not having coverage doesn’t matter. And it’s not much use for anything else.”
He gave her his friendliest smile. “Going to be a long trip without anything to do. Or maybe you just prefer paper books?”
That got him a real smile. “Actually, I love paper books. But I didn’t have a chance to buy any before I left.”
“Sudden trip or are you like me, a last-minute packer?”
She relaxed just the slightest bit. “A little of both, I guess. Wasn’t planning on taking the train, but the bus was full.”
Ren nodded. “Yeah, the strike. What a mess.” He shut his computer, watching to see if she would tense and turn away, pleased when she didn’t. “I suppose you’re going to mock me now.”
Those blue eyes flew to his. “I am? Why?”
“Because of my fear of flying. I just can’t stand the thought of being in an airplane. Therefore, my life involves a lot of buses, driving or, in this case, trains.”
“What do you do?”
“I have a sheep and dairy farm in Montana.”
Damn it, where the hell had that come from? A small auto parts store owner in Saint Louis. That was supposed to be his cover, something nondescript and not very memorable.
Why the hell had he told her the truth? He did have a sheep and dairy farm in Montana. His parents and brother lived and worked there. Ren had been itching to get back there himself.
But he definitely had not been planning to tell his suspect about it.
“Oh, wow, like cows and sheep?” She sounded a little excited before laughing harshly at herself. “Of course cows and sheep. I’m an idiot.”
“Nah, don’t say that. But yes, cows and sheep. We sell wool to some boutique stores out in California and across the country.”
Damn it, more truth. But he was committed to it now, so he’d have to stick with it.
“That’s pretty interesting. I’ve always loved animals, but...”
Only when it became obvious she wasn’t going to finish did he prompt her. “But what?” he asked gently.
She looked back out to the blackened window for the longest time. “But having a pet or being around them just never worked out for me.”
“Did you know that during WWI President Woodrow Wilson had a flock of sheep trim the White House lawn?”
She laughed, then looked surprised by the sound. “You’re making that up.”
“I’m not, Scout’s honor.” She liked animals? That he could give her. “My family got into sheep and dairy farming because my mother loved animals and couldn’t stand the thought of slaughter. So sheep and dairy cows it became.”
He told her some more entertaining stories about growing up with his brother on the farm, about getting chased around bychickens when he was a toddler and how his brother, Will, had thought that black sheep were dirty and tried to wash one when he was young.
And damned if he hadn’t used Will’s real name. A pretty common name, but still.
By the time he’d finished she almost looked like a completely different person. Her face was more relaxed, unguarded. Her long legs were tucked up under her as she’d turned to the side to listen to him, head against her seat, playing with the braid over one shoulder.
Every time he’d stopped telling a story, tried to get the conversation turned back to her, she’d asked another question about his life. Some downright insightful.
Had his father considered becoming a large-animal vet at one time? Yes, until he’d realized he wanted to own his animals and farm.
Did his mother ever knit them anything from a particular sheep they’d loved? Yes. Ren still had a sweater she’d made him from a sheep he’d once carried home after it had broken its leg.
