she silently called herself a fool. This wasn’t the city, for God’s sake, and this guy certainly wasn’t an ex-prisoner from somewhere in New England. He spoke with a western twang, dressed as if he’d been born in a pair of rawhide boots, and probably had never seen the eastern shores of the Mississippi.
O’Rourke was propped against the railing, his dark hair showing streaks of red in the afternoon sunlight. “Here you go.” She handed him the receiver and his jaw slid to one side. He was probably amused by her caution. He inched his wallet out of the back pocket of his faded jeans and found a card, then punched out numbers and waited. “Hold,” he mouthed, then hit another number. “I hate these things.” Grumbling under his breath, he kept punching, finally stopped and looked at her with steely eyes guarded by thick black eyebrows. “It would help if they’d just connect me to a real person instead of a machine and tape recording—” His head snapped up. “Hell, yes, I’m here. Look, I’m expecting a man to come and hook up my phone…what? Oh. Daegan O’Rourke and I live…” He turned his back to her and concentrated on the phone call.
She couldn’t help studying his backside—shoulders broad enough to stretch the seams of his jacket, trim waist, narrow hips. His jeans were worn and dusty, his boots needed polish, the heels worn down, the back of his neck tanned from hours in the sun. He was frustrated, raking a hand through his hair as he spoke, but there was nothing sinister about him. Nothing suspicious. Just an angry restless man trying to untangle the red tape surrounding Eli McIntyre’s place.
“Well, if it’s the best you can do, then it’ll be fine,” he said, his voice edged in irritation. “I’ll expect him in a couple hours.” As he faced her again, his gaze caught hers and his lips turned downward in agitation. He handed her the phone.
“Everything okay?”
He made a sound of deprecation in the back of his throat. “Looks like the cavalry’s decided to come to the rescue after all. Thanks.”
“No problem…” She heard the bus. The growl of the huge engine was distinctive, and for the first time in her life, she hoped that Jon had caught a ride from another kid and was cruising around town. She didn’t want him showing up while O’Rourke was still here, though she didn’t really understand why. She wasn’t so lucky. Glancing at the road, she caught a glimpse of the mustard-colored school bus flashing through the thicket of scrub pines at the end of the drive. Gravel crunched as huge tires slowed and the doors whooshed open.
Jon, backpack slung over one shoulder, loped through the play of shadows on the rock driveway as the bus lumbered away. Houndog, who had spent the better part of the afternoon waiting at the mailbox for Jon, barked wildly, darting through the woods and flushing out pheasants and grasshoppers in his path.
“Hey, Mom, guess what?” Jon called before spying the truck in the drive and the man on the front porch. The smile on his face, a smile she hadn’t seen in days, evaporated when his gaze landed full-force on O’Rourke. “Who’re you?” he asked.
“This is our new neighbor, Daegan O’Rourke. My son, Jon.” Her lungs suddenly constricted painfully.
Daegan offered a hand, but Jon ignored it.
“What’s he doing here?”
“Jon,” Kate said sharply though she knew, he, too, had a million questions, all tied into his nightmares. “Mr. O’Rourke just came by to use the phone. He’s moved into the McIntyre place and his isn’t connected yet.”
Daegan leaned against a post supporting the roof. “And you must be the guy who’s been stopping by and taking care of old Eli’s dog.”
The color faded from Jon’s face and a wary look settled in his eyes.
“Jon?” Kate’s eyebrows inched upward though she shouldn’t have been surprised. Jon had been taking more than his share of long walks lately. He missed the old
O’Rourke was propped against the railing, his dark hair showing streaks of red in the afternoon sunlight. “Here you go.” She handed him the receiver and his jaw slid to one side. He was probably amused by her caution. He inched his wallet out of the back pocket of his faded jeans and found a card, then punched out numbers and waited. “Hold,” he mouthed, then hit another number. “I hate these things.” Grumbling under his breath, he kept punching, finally stopped and looked at her with steely eyes guarded by thick black eyebrows. “It would help if they’d just connect me to a real person instead of a machine and tape recording—” His head snapped up. “Hell, yes, I’m here. Look, I’m expecting a man to come and hook up my phone…what? Oh. Daegan O’Rourke and I live…” He turned his back to her and concentrated on the phone call.
She couldn’t help studying his backside—shoulders broad enough to stretch the seams of his jacket, trim waist, narrow hips. His jeans were worn and dusty, his boots needed polish, the heels worn down, the back of his neck tanned from hours in the sun. He was frustrated, raking a hand through his hair as he spoke, but there was nothing sinister about him. Nothing suspicious. Just an angry restless man trying to untangle the red tape surrounding Eli McIntyre’s place.
“Well, if it’s the best you can do, then it’ll be fine,” he said, his voice edged in irritation. “I’ll expect him in a couple hours.” As he faced her again, his gaze caught hers and his lips turned downward in agitation. He handed her the phone.
“Everything okay?”
He made a sound of deprecation in the back of his throat. “Looks like the cavalry’s decided to come to the rescue after all. Thanks.”
“No problem…” She heard the bus. The growl of the huge engine was distinctive, and for the first time in her life, she hoped that Jon had caught a ride from another kid and was cruising around town. She didn’t want him showing up while O’Rourke was still here, though she didn’t really understand why. She wasn’t so lucky. Glancing at the road, she caught a glimpse of the mustard-colored school bus flashing through the thicket of scrub pines at the end of the drive. Gravel crunched as huge tires slowed and the doors whooshed open.
Jon, backpack slung over one shoulder, loped through the play of shadows on the rock driveway as the bus lumbered away. Houndog, who had spent the better part of the afternoon waiting at the mailbox for Jon, barked wildly, darting through the woods and flushing out pheasants and grasshoppers in his path.
“Hey, Mom, guess what?” Jon called before spying the truck in the drive and the man on the front porch. The smile on his face, a smile she hadn’t seen in days, evaporated when his gaze landed full-force on O’Rourke. “Who’re you?” he asked.
“This is our new neighbor, Daegan O’Rourke. My son, Jon.” Her lungs suddenly constricted painfully.
Daegan offered a hand, but Jon ignored it.
“What’s he doing here?”
“Jon,” Kate said sharply though she knew, he, too, had a million questions, all tied into his nightmares. “Mr. O’Rourke just came by to use the phone. He’s moved into the McIntyre place and his isn’t connected yet.”
Daegan leaned against a post supporting the roof. “And you must be the guy who’s been stopping by and taking care of old Eli’s dog.”
The color faded from Jon’s face and a wary look settled in his eyes.
“Jon?” Kate’s eyebrows inched upward though she shouldn’t have been surprised. Jon had been taking more than his share of long walks lately. He missed the old
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