“Good job. The guys say that you can drive for them anytime and that they like your music,” Waylon said. “Would you like to stay for supper? I’ve got a couple of steaks laid out to throw on the grill.”

“I’m filthy dirty,” she said.

“So am I.” He smiled.

Her stomach growled—a steak did sound really good. “So you can cook?”

“You bet I can. It’s not far to the house, so we’ll walk. Do you cook?”

“I can make soup from a can and a mean ham and cheese sandwich,” she answered.

“You any good at putting together a salad?”

“I can manage in a pinch.” Her long legs matched his stride with no problem.

He opened the gate for her and stood to one side. The yard sported a big pecan tree on each end and a nice wide screened-in porch.

“Kick off them shoes. We don’t stand much on ceremony. We’re pretty laid-back out here in the hinterlands.” Waylon sat down on the back porch steps, yanked off his boots, and padded barefoot over to a garden hose curled up in the yard. He turned on the water and sprayed the dust from his feet and then leaned over and wet down his dark hair. “Damn, that feels good. Come join me.”

When in Rome, Kate thought as she removed her sandals and set them on the porch. The polish on her toenails was badly chipped, and her feet looked like she’d walked a mile in a sandstorm. Thank goodness she’d washed her face in the barn bathroom or it would probably look the same. But then she was on a ranch, not going to a fund-raiser.

If everyone jumped off the cliff, would you follow them? I told you to get a mani-pedi two weeks ago. I can’t believe you are wearing sandals when your toenails look like that. Her mother’s voice in her head faded quickly when Waylon squirted her feet and all the way to her knees with cool water.

She could practically feel the cold stare of disgust if Conrad had seen her washing up with a garden hose. He’d expected her to maintain the image that he wanted. She banished him from her thoughts and concentrated on getting as clean as possible.

“Hey, did you find anything out about that girl you asked us about. Stella?”

“Estrella,” Waylon said. “We checked on her after I called and leaned on the florist again. Conrad sent flowers to her address once, but they were for her sister. Both the sister and Estrella had a rock-solid alibi, so that didn’t pan out and that’s more than I should be saying. Want your hair done?” He changed the subject.

“I’ll pass on that, but my hands and arms won’t.” She held them out.

He squirted the water up to her elbows and then turned off the hose. “There are paper towels on the porch.” He motioned for Kate to follow him. “Want a cold beer while we get supper going?”

“I’d love one.” She dried her hands and arms with paper towels and tossed them into a trash can.

Cool air greeted them as he opened the door into the house. He went straight to the refrigerator, took out two cans of icy-cold beer, and handed one to Kate. “Bottoms up.”

She pulled the ring at the top and drank deeply. “Tastes great after a long hot day.”

“Nothing like it.” Waylon nodded. “Have a seat and catch your breath. I made a little hash brown casserole, and it’ll take five minutes to heat it in the microwave.”

“I need to make the salad,” she told him. “I’ve been sitting all day, remember?”

“Then we’ll get to it.” He nodded. “I got to admit that I was surprised when you showed up. I expected you to be some hoity-toity city gal who didn’t know the gear shift on a hay truck from the back end of a cow.”

“Or from the underside of a bull?” Kate asked.

Waylon spewed beer all over the tabletop. He grabbed a towel and wiped up the mess. “I was damn sure wrong about you, Kate.” He whistled as he lit a gas grill in the middle of the stove burners.

“As a person or as a killer?” she asked.

“As a person for sure. The jury is still out on the killer issue, but my gut says that I might have been wrong there, too. Time will tell,” he answered.

“Well, we got that hoity-toity business out of the way and maybe a step away from me being one of the bad guys you chase. Now, where do I find the makings for a salad?”

“Left bottom drawer in the refrigerator,” he said.

When she opened the fridge, he reached around her to get the steaks, and his hand brushed her side. Sparks flew, but she attributed them to hunger, not attraction.

“How do you like your steak, Kate?” he asked. “Oh, and while we are cooking, we’ll have jalapeño poppers for an appetizer.”

“Medium rare. I love poppers,” she answered.

The small pan of cooking oil heated quickly, and he dropped four poppers in, waited until they floated, and dipped them out. He added four more and nodded toward her. “They are best when they’re hot. Help yourself.”

She picked up one of the poppers and bit off the end. Just the right amount of cream cheese and bacon mixed with a spice that she didn’t recognize. Was that chili powder?

“These are amazing, Waylon. It’s so smart to have that grill right on the stove,” she said.

“Mama insisted on it. She loved having it inside the house where she could fix the rest of the meal at the same time.” He bit into a popper and smiled. “Got plenty of chili pepper in this batch, didn’t I?”

“Just the right amount.” She reached for a second one.

“So are you coming back tomorrow?”

“Maybe.” She glanced through the archway to the dark living room. It reminded her of the little place she’d had before Conrad—cozy and comfortable.

“It’s not a big house, but we didn’t need anything else.”

She tore lettuce into small pieces and then added a diced tomato and cheese cubes to the bowl. He leaned against the counter and watched. Strangely enough, it didn’t make her the least bit uncomfortable.

“Mama never wanted a big house until sale time. Then she would have liked a big dining room so we could have the top bidders in the house for a private supper.”

“Sale time?” she asked.

“We have a cattle sale in the fall. We cull the herd. There’s a sale barn on the north side of the property. I’ll show it to you sometime. It has stalls for the cattle we want to sell, a balcony for the buyers, and a ring for the auctioneer to bring in the merchandise. It usually starts on Friday, and Saturday night when it’s over, we have a huge party for everyone in the community.”

“I’d love to see it, and a cattle sale—it sounds like fun,” she said. “Do folks get to attend whether they buy anything or not?” She finished making the salad and set it on the table.

He slapped the steaks on the grill. “That’s right. Everyone looks forward to the Kramer party every year. We’ve got a couple of hands who smoke a beef, and the women all bring side dishes.”

“Like a huge potluck?”

“Something like that.” He circled her waist with his hands and moved her away from the bar into the kitchen nook.

She was sure that later when she examined her skin, his handprint would have left a mark from the sheer heat that radiated through her entire body.

“I’m glad they didn’t build anything bigger. I like the coziness of a small house.”

She heard every word, but she was more interested in the feelings his hand evoked. She hadn’t felt so alive in years, maybe in her entire life.

She could see two buttery-soft brown leather recliners placed at either end of a long matching sofa facing a huge stone fireplace with bookcases on either side. The room reminded her so much of her father’s study that she got weepy eyed.

“Do you have an office?”

He shook his head. “I pay a CPA to take care of all the financial stuff. Once a month I take her the receipts, and every three months I pick up the paperwork for taxes. This isn’t a huge operation, Kate. Nothing like your oil company. By Texas standards, it’s a hobby farm. I run about two hundred head of cattle. We grow our own hay, and I have one full-time employee who lives in a trailer here—Johnny was born on the ranch.”