On Her Father's Grave (Rogue River Novella Book 1) (13 page)

“You weren’t the only one who thought that. I was convinced Ted was making something in the barn. And I hadn’t stepped a foot inside.” Stevie ran a hand over her ponytail. “I knew my past was influencing my logic. Either way, somebody is filtering something deadly into our town. If Ted wasn’t making it, then somebody else is. They just need to find a new salesman.”

Zane’s face grew grim. “We need to find the source.”

“How is Russ? Is he okay?” she asked.

“The boy isn’t saying much. He seems traumatized over his father’s death. At least he didn’t witness my shot that killed his father.”

Stevie put a hand on his arm as her heart sank. Maybe she should ask Carly to check on Russ. As a social worker, Carly dealt with troubled teens every day and could tell if Russ’s emotional needs were being met. “Poor kid. Is his mother being supportive?”

“If you call drinking every night with her girlfriends supportive. I don’t think she misses Ted one bit.”

“If he treated me how he treated her, I wouldn’t either.”

“How long are you staying with your mother?” he asked, changing the subject.

Stevie sighed. She wanted to go back to her little apartment. It was lovely having the time with her mother and also having Carly and her daughter Brianna close by. She’d talked more to Carly in the last twenty-four hours than she had in five years, and had her ear bent about Carly’s frustrations with her estranged husband.

But Stevie was tired of being babied. So what if she couldn’t button her jeans? She had plenty of simple shorts she could wear. And surely she could make something to eat one-handed. Although she might eventually get tired of peanut butter and jelly. She frowned. Assuming she could get the lid off the peanut butter.

“I don’t know. I want to go home. It’s surprising how often you need two hands to do anything.” She lifted her bandaged hand. It felt like it weighed twenty pounds.

His gaze held hers. “About the other night . . . behind the band.”

Her face flushed as she remembered the feel of his skin at his waist under her fingertips.
Need two hands.

“I want to pick up from there. And move forward.” He took her hand from his arm and gripped it, his knuckles white. “I know you just got here and probably don’t want to get involved right away, but I want you to know I’m interested. And I’ll wait until you’re ready.”

“You’re my boss,” she whispered. “We can’t.”

“Says who?”

“Uhh . . . everyone? It just isn’t done. Too much can go wrong.”

He gave a half smile and looked into her eyes. “I had a talk with a very wise lady not long ago, and I said exactly what you’re saying now. But do you know what she pointed out to me?”

Stevie could only shake her head.

“She showed me that I was looking at relationships all wrong. Do you know what type of person doesn’t act on their desires because they’re afraid of what
might
happen if they’ll fail? A very lonely person.”

Stevie blinked, memories of their kiss sweeping through her. Zane wanted to be with her?

“And I believe we’re the type of people who can handle working together even if things don’t work out,” he continued. “I’m not vindictive, and I suspect you’re not either.”

“But you’re my boss,” she repeated.

“And that means you still have to go help Mrs. Simmons. I don’t play favorites. I assign calls as they come. So no special treatment for you.”

“I’m not unpacked yet,” she blurted.

His eyes crinkled. “Do you need help?”

“Lord, yes,” she said, thinking of her stacks of boxes. And her single hand.

“Do you want
my
help?” he clarified.

She studied the man in front of her and remembered how her mother had said her father had thought of him like a son. Her father had had a good eye for character. She could almost feel her dad gently pushing her in the back, urging her to accept what Zane was offering.

“I’d appreciate your help, Zane,” she said softly. “I think if we take things slowly, it’ll eventually get done.” She held his gorgeous blue gaze, watching to see if he got her meaning. She couldn’t make any promises at the moment, but she planned to enjoy every step of the journey to find out.

His grin flashed across his face. “Perfect. Slow and steady wins the race.”

“I’m a bit competitive,” she warned him. “The curse of a big family.”

“In that case, I’ll race you.”

He swiftly leaned over and gave her a lingering kiss.

Welcome home.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Photo © 2014 Marti Corn Photograpy

The Rogue River Novella Series started as an idea proposed to us by our editors at Montlake Romance, so we’d like to thank JoVon Sotak and Kelli Martin for putting the concept of writing a joint project in our heads. Writing is normally a very solitary occupation. This collaboration was a whole new experience for both of us. We discovered that the only thing better than having writer buddies is having one to help you plot murder. On paper, of course.

Kendra Elliot

Melinda Leigh

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Photo © 2010 Yuen Lui

Born and raised in the Pacific Northwest, Kendra Elliot has always been a voracious reader, cutting her teeth on classic female sleuths and heroines like Nancy Drew, Trixie Belden, and Laura Ingalls before proceeding to devour the works of Stephen King, Diana Gabaldon, and Nora Roberts. She has a degree in journalism from the University of Oregon. A Golden Heart, Daphne du Maurier, and Linda Howard Award of Excellence finalist, Elliot shares her love of suspense in
Hidden
,
Chilled
,
Buried
,
Alone
, and
Vanished
. She lives and writes in the rainy Pacific Northwest with her husband, three daughters, and a Pomeranian, but dreams of living at the beach on Kauai.