get him. I’ll be back for the others later on.”
Frustrated, Rafe watched Palo load the quarter horse, his hands knotted around the fence. Then he turned and saw Suzanne Hartwell in the front yard and frowned. Did she have any idea that his life was falling apart around him?
S OMETHING WAS WRONG with Rafe. Suzanne had an insane urge to go to him and tell him that everything would be all right.
Yet, how could she do that when she herself was supposed to be taking advantage of his problems?
“You are so sweet to help me with my garden,” Mrs. McAllister said. “I just couldn’t reach those weeds to pull them.”
“It’s no problem,” Suzanne said. “I’m not much of a gardener, but I enjoyed hearing all about your flowers.” At least she hadn’t lied about her gardening ability. But she couldn’t have faked her lack of knowledge. The first time Rafe’s mother had mentioned pruning, Suzanne had known she was lost.
“Your mother wasn’t into gardening?” Mrs. McAllister asked.
“She died when I was little,” Suzanne said, dumping the weeds into the wheelbarrow. “I have no idea if she enjoyed working in the yard.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, hon.” Mrs. McAllister touched the brim of her straw sunhat. “That must have been very difficult for you.”
Suzanne shrugged. “I imagine it was hardest for my dad, raising two daughters alone.”
“Yes, but young girls need their mothers around, too. You must have missed her terribly.”
“Can a person really miss something they’ve never had?”
Mrs. McAllister removed her gardening gloves, her expression so tender it moved something inside Suzanne’s chest. “I think you already know the answer to that question, dear.”
A surge of sadness enveloped Suzanne. Why did this woman make her think about things she had never let bother her before? Why did her companionship spark such a desperate need to have known her own mother? To belong to a family.
She had a family—her father and Rebecca. Yet both of them were newlyweds now. Both had a special person in their lives—someone who loved them. And although her father had been married several times, she sensed that Eleanor might really care for him. That this time he might have more than a trophy wife.
“Are you all right, dear?” Mrs. McAllister asked.
Suzanne opened her mouth to reply, but her breath caught when Rafe suddenly appeared, glaring down at her. She’d watched him working with the horse when she’d first arrived. She’d been mesmerized by his quiet manner, by the strength in his slow movements and the agility with which he’d coached the animal into trusting him. His whispers to the animal had spurred a longing deep inside her.
What would it feel like if he whispered to her in that gruff voice? She’d probably eat out of his hand, as well.
R AFE DID NOT WANT TO KNOW why his mother had asked Suzanne if she was okay or why, for just a moment, he’d seen a look of longing in Suzanne’s eyes.
What would Suzanne Hartwell have to be sad about?
“Rafe, Suzanne helped me with my gardening while you were busy.”
“Really?” The woman kept surprising him. Somehow she didn’t seem the gardening type.
“I simply pulled a few weeds,” Suzanne said. “It was no big deal.”
Mrs. McAllister blushed. “It is to an old lady whose knees won’t allow her to bend down anymore.”
“You’re a regular do-gooder, aren’t you?” Rafe said, knowing he sounded surly. But his day had been crappy and the thought of spending time with Suzanne tonight, especially riding at sunset, was giving him a case of the wants.
He wanted to touch her and kiss her and forget his problems for a while. He wanted to make that sad look on her face disappear.
“You look worn-out, son. Let’s have a bite of dinner before you two go riding.”
“Suzanne probably has other plans.”
“Actually, I don’t.” She tucked a strand of that dark hair behind her ear, a turquoise earring glistening in the
Frustrated, Rafe watched Palo load the quarter horse, his hands knotted around the fence. Then he turned and saw Suzanne Hartwell in the front yard and frowned. Did she have any idea that his life was falling apart around him?
S OMETHING WAS WRONG with Rafe. Suzanne had an insane urge to go to him and tell him that everything would be all right.
Yet, how could she do that when she herself was supposed to be taking advantage of his problems?
“You are so sweet to help me with my garden,” Mrs. McAllister said. “I just couldn’t reach those weeds to pull them.”
“It’s no problem,” Suzanne said. “I’m not much of a gardener, but I enjoyed hearing all about your flowers.” At least she hadn’t lied about her gardening ability. But she couldn’t have faked her lack of knowledge. The first time Rafe’s mother had mentioned pruning, Suzanne had known she was lost.
“Your mother wasn’t into gardening?” Mrs. McAllister asked.
“She died when I was little,” Suzanne said, dumping the weeds into the wheelbarrow. “I have no idea if she enjoyed working in the yard.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, hon.” Mrs. McAllister touched the brim of her straw sunhat. “That must have been very difficult for you.”
Suzanne shrugged. “I imagine it was hardest for my dad, raising two daughters alone.”
“Yes, but young girls need their mothers around, too. You must have missed her terribly.”
“Can a person really miss something they’ve never had?”
Mrs. McAllister removed her gardening gloves, her expression so tender it moved something inside Suzanne’s chest. “I think you already know the answer to that question, dear.”
A surge of sadness enveloped Suzanne. Why did this woman make her think about things she had never let bother her before? Why did her companionship spark such a desperate need to have known her own mother? To belong to a family.
She had a family—her father and Rebecca. Yet both of them were newlyweds now. Both had a special person in their lives—someone who loved them. And although her father had been married several times, she sensed that Eleanor might really care for him. That this time he might have more than a trophy wife.
“Are you all right, dear?” Mrs. McAllister asked.
Suzanne opened her mouth to reply, but her breath caught when Rafe suddenly appeared, glaring down at her. She’d watched him working with the horse when she’d first arrived. She’d been mesmerized by his quiet manner, by the strength in his slow movements and the agility with which he’d coached the animal into trusting him. His whispers to the animal had spurred a longing deep inside her.
What would it feel like if he whispered to her in that gruff voice? She’d probably eat out of his hand, as well.
R AFE DID NOT WANT TO KNOW why his mother had asked Suzanne if she was okay or why, for just a moment, he’d seen a look of longing in Suzanne’s eyes.
What would Suzanne Hartwell have to be sad about?
“Rafe, Suzanne helped me with my gardening while you were busy.”
“Really?” The woman kept surprising him. Somehow she didn’t seem the gardening type.
“I simply pulled a few weeds,” Suzanne said. “It was no big deal.”
Mrs. McAllister blushed. “It is to an old lady whose knees won’t allow her to bend down anymore.”
“You’re a regular do-gooder, aren’t you?” Rafe said, knowing he sounded surly. But his day had been crappy and the thought of spending time with Suzanne tonight, especially riding at sunset, was giving him a case of the wants.
He wanted to touch her and kiss her and forget his problems for a while. He wanted to make that sad look on her face disappear.
“You look worn-out, son. Let’s have a bite of dinner before you two go riding.”
“Suzanne probably has other plans.”
“Actually, I don’t.” She tucked a strand of that dark hair behind her ear, a turquoise earring glistening in the
Similar Books
