The Dream Runner by Kerry Schafer Page A

runaway horse and my knees gone a little weak. Marsh was about five years older than me and out of my league. Troublemaker, heartbreaker. He'd expressed a little interest once, way back when, and I'd ignored him despite my body's inclinations to the contrary. No way I was going to be a notch on the bedpost, 'cause I was pretty sure he counted and took pride in his conquests.
    "Table's over in the corner. Come sit down." He put a hand on the small of my back in a proprietary way that woke up both my obstinate streak and my better sense, and I shook my head.
    "I'm supposed to meet Tom—"
    "Couldn't come. He sent me."
    I laughed. "Right. Look, I need the keys to the house and to talk about strategy—"
    He dangled a pair of keys in front of my nose, then stuffed them into his pocket. "Been working for Tom for over a year now. Come on. Let me buy you some dinner first."
    Food was definitely a lure. There's nothing like riding all day to make a girl feel both tired and hungry and there wasn't going to be anything to eat back up at the house. Plus, I needed those keys and if I knew anything at all about Marsh, it was that I was going to have to work for what I wanted.
    I let him steer me into a quiet booth off in the corner and order me a brisket, but I wasn't here for a pleasure jaunt, no matter what sort of noises my body was making, so I kept the conversation focused on the business at hand. Marsh was surprisingly competent and up to speed with the job. He sat back on his side of the booth, arms spread across the top of the seat, and answered my questions.
    The last set of renters hadn't been the best we'd ever had up there, and Tom sent them packing. Might be they'd left a bit of a mess behind, but the house was essentially empty. And mine. This was the information I was struggling with, but my questions had to wait while I worked through a mouthful of beef that was almost mind melting in its perfection.
    Marsh watched me eat, his lips tucked in just enough at the corners to indicate pleasure, those eyes all intensity. "You grew up good, Jesse."
    "You haven't changed much," I managed to throw back at him. It was true. Didn't have to be a compliment, but he of course took it that way. The look in his eyes was one I had come to know well, had seen in scores of bars all across the country. He leaned toward me, elbows on the table now, letting his eyes linger on my lips, then breasts.
    "Doesn't look like the town's changed much either. Anything I should know?" I took another bite of brisket, partly for something to do with my mouth and hands that would stop me thinking about the way Marsh and I could make use of them.
    "Will Alderson came home."
    Old Dave was losing his touch. All at once, the brisket in my mouth tasted like sawdust and old leather. A line of cold sweat trickled down my spine and my stomach went queasy. Marsh was watching me, and there was a hint of something else in his eyes now. He'd been a bit of a bully, I remembered belatedly. Liked to make people squirm.
    Apparently he didn't get the reaction he was looking for, so he went on. "Old man Alderson was losing his marbles—he's in the home now. Alzheimer's. Nearly drove the mill into the ground before Will came home and took charge."
    "Town would suffer without that mill." I washed the last of the brisket down with a gulp of water that almost choked me.
    "So it would. You and Will used to be a thing, right? Before—"
    "Ten years ago," I said, cutting him off. "A lot changes in ten years, at least away from this place. Let's talk about the house. Tell me again why it's mine now?"
    "According to the lawyers, your dad just never got around to changing his will after your mom ran off. So it all went to her. But then after she died…"
    He stopped to take a long drink of ice water. I was appreciating the way his tanned throat stretched as he tipped his head back when my cell phone went off.
    Â No good thing ever comes from a phone. Maybe for other