“Not sure if you remember me or not,” he said. “I’m?—”
“I remember you.” She kept her voice even.
Something flickered behind his eyes. Approval maybe. Like he appreciated that she skipped pretending.
“That’s nice to hear.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” she muttered. “Your brother killed my sister.”
Wes stepped closer as if ready to hold her back if necessary.
“Now, now . . . that’s debatable.”
Her hands fisted as a million retorts came to her mind.
Wes touched her elbow, grounding her a moment. Since this conversation started, Rowan had felt him studying the exchange, building context in real time.
Dale glanced down the road. “Looks like your visit’s already getting attention.”
Despite the sunlight, Rowan felt cold.
Dale slipped one hand into the pocket of his jacket. “Tell Naomi I asked about my niece.”
She bristled, a sharp comeback on the tip of her tongue.
Before she could say anything, Wes squeezed her elbow.
In some situations, restraint was the best response—even though it didn’t feel like it at the moment.
Dale’s smile widened by a fraction. Then he nodded, calm and cordial, before stepping back toward his truck like a man without a single concern in the world.
Rowan watched him climb inside and pull into traffic.
Only after the truck disappeared did she realize how tightly she’d been holding herself.
Beside her, Wes finally spoke. “That was Richard’s brother?”
She continued to stare after his expensive truck. “Yes. His name is Dale. He’s a piece of work.”
“I’d have to agree.” Wes shook his head. “He was testing you.”
That was exactly what Dale Harding did. He tested doors before kicking them in.
Somehow, standing there on a crowded sidewalk in broad daylight, she felt less safe than she had in the woods the night before.
Rowan and Wes were ten minutes out of Blue Ridge Hollow before either of them spoke.
The town had fallen away behind them, the main street giving way to the county road and then mountain curves. Rowan had been watching the forest go past without really seeing it.
Her mind kept snagging on Dale Harding’s smile. And each time, anger grew hotter inside her. If she wasn’t careful, the white-hot fury would turn into an all-out eruption.
She couldn’t let that happen. An outburst wouldn’t help her case and would make her seem less sane.
She needed to think about something else.
She drew in a quick breath, and her thoughts turned to Wes. They’d talked a lot about her but not as much about him. “So, when did you start your company?”
“About fourteen months ago.”
