Smoking Hot by Karen Kelley Page B

grandfather’s brand isn’t an M with a leaning C beside it?”
    â€œYes, but…”
    â€œThe cleaning lady discovered the handkerchief in a corner near the vault, along with your notepad, but in your statement you said you were nowhere near the vault. Now, I’ll ask you again, was your grandfather at the bank that night?”

Chapter 9
    Raine saw the looks as she left the sheriff’s office. The kind where you turn and catch someone watching you as though you’ve sprouted two heads. When they realize you’ve caught them staring, they quickly turn away. As she strode toward the door she encountered more than one of those looks.
    Except one person didn’t turn away. Ethan. He acted as though he knew something she didn’t. She met his stare head on. There was no way in hell she’d back down.
    Another deputy spoke to him. Ethan turned away. A draw. So be it. She held her head high as she walked toward the door, but on the inside she shook like a leaf during a windstorm because the truth was starting to sink in. Dillon was an immortal. An angel. Half angel. If he was a freakin’ angel why did he look at her as though he wanted to carry her to bed? And where the hell were his wings? She shoved on the door and marched out of the sheriff’s office.
    Weren’t angels supposed to make a person’s life better? Dillon had only screwed hers up. What little respect she’d gained from the other deputies was lost. She and Grandpa were suspects. They might as well have the plague.
    â€œI was better off without him,” she muttered.
    She stumbled. Dillon really was an angel, an immortal. No, half angel, half man. A nephilim. This wasn’t really happening. She didn’t believe in any other world except the one she lived in right now. Immortals didn’t exist. But if Dillon didn’t exist, that would make her and Grandpa both crazy. She needed to talk with Grandpa.
    She climbed into the pickup and slammed the door closed, then tested to make sure it was secure. Everything was falling apart. The pickup, the ranch, her job. She’d like nothing more than to tell everyone to kiss her ass, but she didn’t have that luxury. Quitting wasn’t an option. They needed the money. She only hoped they cleared her as soon as possible. She shoved the stick shift into reverse and backed out of the parking space. If she and Grandpa had a guardian angel, then why the hell didn’t he at least fix something?
    Tilly’s place was on the edge of town. A little country, a little city. She’d bought the big rambling Victorian not long after her husband passed away. The house was practically falling down. Her friends told her she was crazy when she used what was left of her husband’s life insurance to restore it, turning it into a B&B.
    â€œWe’re not suspects,” Raine told her grandfather after she went inside. “It’s a formality.” Then she explained to Grandpa how it would look better if he stayed with Tilly. She didn’t mention that his handkerchief and her notepad were later discovered near the vault. Raine told him she would take care of the stock. He finally agreed to stay put for now.
    Tilly didn’t seem to mind that Grandpa had picked up another stray. The golden retriever was beautiful. When Raine thought about it, other than her bandaged paw which was on the mend, the dog was well-groomed for an animal living off the streets. They should put an ad in the Lost and Found, she supposed, or they would be accused of stealing dogs next, even though the dog apparently didn’t have a collar or tags. She was getting paranoid.
    â€œTilly, I don’t suppose you have any of your peach tea. I’m really thirsty,” Raine said.
    â€œWhere are my manners? Of course I do.”
    As soon as Tilly left the room, Raine turned to Grandpa. “Tell me everything you know about Dillon.”
    Grandpa wore a grim