“Don’t you need some things out of your room?” Her gaze lowered to his shirt, and she wrinkled her nose. “You don’t want to wear the same clothes for the rest of your life.”
He sniffed at himself. “Guess that wouldn’t be a great idea. Yeah, I’ll gather up a few things.”
They stepped into the hallway. She left him at his doorway and continued downstairs.
The doorknob stared at him. All he had to do was turn it, gather up a shirt or two, another pair of jeans, his spare socks—why was it so hard to do that? Chet would have told him to get on with it. Gritting his teeth, he turned the knob and stepped into the room. He hadn’t been in it since he prepared for the funeral.
He sank to the side of the bed and pressed his face to his palms.
The same thoughts filled his head now as they had at his last visit.
Chet was dead because of Jace’s flash of anger. Why had hethought hunting a grizzly was so important? He didn’t need the excitement. Yet it had tugged at him. Yes, there were times he longed for something more. Not that he could say what it was. Now, all he wanted was for things to go back to the way they were.
That would never happen.
He pushed to his feet, pulled two shirts off the hooks on the wall, shrugged into one, and then realized he needed something to carry things in. He crossed the hall to the big closet and chose a satchel.
In the hallway, a spicy aroma caught his attention. Saliva flooded his mouth. Smelled like ginger cookies. Was she baking them for him to take when he left?
Another thought replaced that question. Was she trying to tempt him to stay?
Had she not heard him? How could he stay and benefit from Chet’s death when it was his fault?
Back in his room, determinedly ignoring the alluring smell, he tossed things into the bag with no regard for neatness.
He had to get away as fast as he could.
Dianne tookthe last of the cookies from the oven as Jace’s boots echoed on the stairs. He’d been up there a long time. She considered checking on him, but there were things a person had to deal with on their own.
Living alone on the ranch was not one of those for her.
She took two cookies out to Eddie. The boy had a new friend in Skip. Although it was too early to trust her son to the dog’s watchful care, she suspected she soon would be comfortable doing so.
Coffee was ready. She set two cups on the table along with a plate of cookies.
Jace stepped into view, carrying a bulging satchel with a bit of fabric poking out the latched top. His face set in hard lines.
Stubborn was the word that came to mind. Knowing it would remind him of Chet, she kept the word to herself.
“I had a hankering for cookies. Would you care to join me?” She indicated the table.
He gave her a look that plainly said he guessed she was delaying him. Then he dropped the satchel and went to the table.
“These were my father’s favorite.” Her voice remained calm.
He bit into one. “They’re good. Mind if I take a few when I leave?”
Ignoring his challenge, she nodded. “By all means.”
She let him enjoy a cookie and start on the next before she asked, “Jace, how am I to go to town when I need to?”
“One of the cowboys will take you.”
She dampened her finger to pick up the cookie crumbs on the table. “What cowboys? There’s no one out there.”
“Cal and Lee will be back.”
“Tonight?”
