At Close Range by Marilyn Tracy

for the man.”
    â€œThank you, Pedro. Here you go, Mack.”
    Another silence, broken only by the crunch of cookies breaking.
    Lights strafed the highway leading out of Carlsbad, brightening the empty expanse of the road to Roswell. An almost-whisper came from the back seat. “Do you want one, too, señora? ”
    Her heart constricted, but she took a leaf from Mack’s seemingly casual concern. “No, thanks. But somebody had better eat mine or Rita will think we don’t like them.”
    â€œI like them,” Pedro said.
    â€œGood. How about the burritos?”
    â€œAre they very hot?”
    â€œNo way,” Corrie said, understanding the question after several encounters with New Mexico chilies. “Rita wouldn’t put too many spices in.”
    Tinfoil rustled anew and the car was filled with the pungent scent of red chili, cumin and pork and the sound of a hungry young boy eating a late dinner. After a long drink of milk and a satisfied and slightly embarrassed burp, the boy yawned mightily.
    On cue, Mack swung around in his seat and shifted the basket to the floor and a pillow to the seat. Once again, he tucked the blanket around the boy, this time covering him for sleep.
    Within seconds, the back seat was utterly quiet except for the soft sounds of a tired little boy’s rhythmic snoring.
    Mack relaxed against the seat. On the way into town, the cab had felt too full of unspoken questions and restless longings. Now, with the addition of a sleeping child, the electricity between them was no less, but the crackling uncomfortable tension had subsided.
    Perhaps touching Corrie’s back, holding her hand in his had made her seem more approachable, made the chasm he’d created with the kiss the night before seem bridged somewhat, however narrow that passage. Maybe Corrie’s awareness of his worry over thelocked door, however she may have misinterpreted it, her helping the little boy in the back seat made it seem possible for him to momentarily ignore the nightmare of his past and deal with this woman in the present.
    Mack thought about the reasons for a few additional silent miles, then said, “You handled that beautifully.”
    She flashed him a swift smile. Her face had a greenish glow from the dashboard lights, and strangely, instead of detracting from her beauty, they only seemed to make it seem more ethereal. A pixie of a woman with lush, dark hair, coffee-brown eyes that sparkled in the dark, and hands that had trembled in his and while waiting for a child’s timid grasp. Talented and beautiful, fearful and vulnerable. She was a potent mix.
    Her grin broadened. “You should have seen me with Juan Carlos.”
    He chuckled at her description of Juan Carlos’s antics at their first encounter. “That kid’s a real handful, all right. Trouble is he’s smart as a whip.”
    â€œHave you noticed that most of them are?”
    â€œMaybe simple survival makes a child use more brainpower.”
    She pondered that for a moment, silent as she took the turn to the ranch road. “I wonder. That could be true in Leeza’s case.”
    â€œLeeza? Leeza Nelson?” He couldn’t imagine Leeza Nelson ever lacking in survival skills. She was pleasant enough, but her tongue was sharp and her gaze even more so. She looked as if she could chew someone up and spit them out without a backwardglance. He was almost amazed she and Corrie were friends; they seemed such opposites.
    â€œYes. Didn’t you know? All three of us are orphans, too.”
    He hadn’t known. No one had told him, then he thought, why would they? It was a confidence and confidences were shared experiences; he didn’t exactly hold the corner on revealing inner thoughts and life’s experiences.
    â€œWe met back in college. We became the sisters we never had. What about you—brothers and sisters?”
    â€œOne of each. And two parents, though