Triple Exposure by Colleen Thompson Page A

a mirage. When it came to anything more subtle than the blunt offers he rebuffed from time to time, he was seriously out of practice. Or had he said something wrong, something unintended before she’d left? Once more, he struggled to recall his side of their last real conversation. Had he remembered to thank her for her help that day or for the pictures that would be used to publicize his work? He’d gotten bad at that, he knew. Gotten to the point where each word cost him.
    Patsy looked up from the table she was wiping. “Ready for that pie yet? Pecan today.”
    Probably trying to move him along, he thought, so she could finish her day. The Roost had never served dinner,and lately, she’d taken to closing earlier. Checking on her mother-in-law, she’d told him, until Rachel got home to her. Apparently, Rachel had moved out of the guest casita she’d been using and into the older Mrs. Copeland’s house.
    He shook his head. “I’ll just get out of your hair.”
    She paused to stare at him, her broad face disbelieving. “Made with genuine Fort Davis pecans, the way you like. I could box a slice up for you to take home.”
    Manners wouldn’t kill him. He’d been taught once, hadn’t he? So there was no damned reason he couldn’t teach himself again.
    “No, thanks.” He gave his stomach a pat. “Foot’s better, but all that sitting’s caught up with me.”
    Patsy squinted, offered a scant smile. “Not so I can see. Sure there isn’t something else the matter? Something—or somebody—who’s out there motioning the tow plane to take up slack?”
    On the nearest landing strip, the plane rolled slowly forward until Rachel spread her arms to indicate that it should stop. Turning back to the glider, she lifted the towrope for the pilot’s inspection. When he signaled his approval, she moved alongside the sailplane to lift and level its wing before making a circular motion with one arm.
    The tow plane pilot—Zeke thought it was the relentlessly flirtatious Lili Vega—buzzed its engine louder and started down the runway. Pulled behind, the glider followed, but Zeke’s gaze clung to Rachel as she trotted along for a few steps before slowing to watch both planes take off.
    She wore faded jeans with a light denim jacket, and her russet hair was falling messily from where she’d tucked it up beneath a blue “Soar Marfa” cap. But her focus was complete, her movements graceful as those of the pronghorns that grazed the pale, golden grasses outside the airfield, and he could barely tear his eyes away from her.
    Patsy must have noticed, for she pulled out a chair at the next table and sat near him. “I’ve seen the way you watch, the way you’ve changed since she showed up here—”
    “Don’t have any idea what you mean,” he said.
    “I’m telling you,” she went on as if he hadn’t spoken, “you don’t need that kind of trouble in your life.”
    “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He didn’t need Rachel Copeland. Wanted her, maybe, and dreamed about her often, but as for needing her—or any woman—he couldn’t. Damned well wouldn’t.
    “I’ve known you a long time,” she said. “Almost as long as I’ve known that girl. Tell you the truth, we get on better. You and I, that is.”
    He looked at Patsy, saw the disappointment, the frustration twisting her mouth.
    “She’s always had a way of stirring things up. And now she’s finally poked one hornet’s nest that won’t die down.”
    “You’re blaming her for that mess? Jury said she’s—”
    “Walter always did encourage her. Thought that willful streak of hers was cute or, what did he call it, high - spirited or something. Went easy on her when she could have used a swift kick, time to time.” Patsy held up her hands. “Not literally, I don’t mean, but just a wake up. A little taste of consequences.”
    It seemed to Zeke that Rachel had faced a lot of consequences lately. Thinking about it, he felt guilty for the