“But you don’t think so.”
“No.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll do my best to keep Davey quiet and out of your way.”
“Davey is not a problem.” She was another matter.
She ducked her head, and golden hair spilled over her shoulder. He’d been right—it fell to her waist, a mass of honeyed silk. It was only too easy to imagine it spilling over her breasts, brushing his body. A golden curtain, sealing them off from the world.
He cursed silently and turned to face the fire.
Her voice was soft and hesitant. “I made a stew. I thought I’d do cornbread to go with it. Are you hungry?”
Ravenous. But they weren’t talking about the same hunger.
Remember Cy. Remember what she did.
He whirled around. “Why wouldn’t you take my call?”
Her eyes widened. “What call?”
“Don’t play Miss Innocent. I called you when Cy was so sick I knew it was almost the end. You wouldn’t even come to the phone.”
“When was that?”
Fury shot through him. “You don’t even remember?” He brushed past her hesitation. “In March. The butler or some damn thing like that answered the phone.”
“Did you tell him who you were?” She got an odd look in her eyes, one he couldn’t decipher.
“I didn’t think it was anyone else’s business. I told him it was an urgent family matter.”
“What did he say?”
“He very politely told me that Miss Perrie had no family and didn’t like strangers calling her. He told me not to call again and hung up.”
Perrie’s glance darted everywhere but at him. “I never knew.”
He snorted. “Or didn’t care.”
“I wasn’t there then.”
“Where were you?”
“Traveling.” She wouldn’t meet his eyes. Lying. He’d almost swear it.
For a second, he wanted to press her, to make her admit that she hadn’t cared enough to keep up with the grandfather who had loved her.
But it wouldn’t change anything. Cy would still be dead. Knowing wouldn’t change how it had happened. He needed to get away from her, get a grip on his temper.
“I’ll be—” Why was he explaining anything to her? “Never mind.” Shaking his head, Mitch ducked under the line again and brushed past her, headed toward his bedroom.
“Mitch?”
He stopped in the doorway but didn’t look back.
“Would you…” Her voice trembled slightly. “Shall I start the cornbread?”
He snorted and shook his head. “I can take care of myself, Miss Perrie. Don’t dirty those lily-white hands on my account.”
He heard the small intake of her breath and knew a flicker of shame. But why?
He knew why. Because even if she was lying, she did care about Cy. He could hear it in her voice.
He wanted answers, but answers wouldn’t undo anything.
It wasn’t his business, anyway. The storm wouldn’t last forever. This early in the fall, there would be a break between systems. And she was getting stronger every day.
Soon, she would be gone. Or he would.
It couldn’t come a moment too soon.
Chapter Six
Perrie stared out the window, watching the world turn white. In the background, she faintly heard the sounds of Davey playing, but her mind whirled like the snowflakes that seemed to be coming more sideways than down in the ever-present Wyoming wind.
She could still see the accusation in Mitch’s eyes, and it hurt. Lying wasn’t in her nature, but she couldn’t talk to him about Simon.
Could she?
What would happen if she did? Would this man, so dedicated to his solitude, want her to leave and take the threat away from his refuge?
Her sense of the man who was so careful with her child was that he might not. He was strong. Hard. But curiously gentle with a boy who had not known the love of a father.
Perrie leaned her head against the cold glass, hoping to cool the boiling confusion in her brain.
Wasn’t it true that, for the very reason of his kindness to Davey, she owed it to Mitch not to embroil him in the disaster her life had become?
And what about trust? He didn’t trust her. Or like her.
But he might desire her. Those weren’t gentle thoughts she sensed when his eyes raked her—and darkened.
Was she brave enough to risk exploring the attraction? Hadn’t she had enough of darkness, of complicated men? Mitch didn’t even know what his own brother looked like. How had that happened? Why would she rely upon a man who didn’t keep in touch with his own family?
She couldn’t. It was that simple. She could play roulette with her own life, but she couldn’t take risks with Davey. He was all that was important. She’d made a mess of her life, but she wouldn’t allow harm to come to him. Mitch wouldn’t harm him, she was sure of that. But she had no way at all to assure herself that he would welcome being embroiled in the tangle she’d made of her life with Simon.