July Thunder. Rachel Lee

in the county.”

      “What’s wrong with the other half?”

      “Beats me. Maybe not smart enough?”

      Sam laughed again, much to his own surprise. “Or maybe just too smart.”

      “Nah. So, are you going to bring a date, or do you want me to invite some nice lady?”

      That sure sounded like an ultimatum, Sam thought, and he didn’t like ultimatums. His inclination was to become more stubborn than a Missouri mule when he felt pushed or cornered. But this time, just as his contrariness was rising, he found himself thinking of Mary McKinney. Thinking how comfortable it had been last night to share dinner with her. “Yeah,” he heard himself say. “I’ll ask someone.”

      “Great.”

      As he was walking back out to his car after the morning briefing, he started shaking his head and grinning to himself. Earl was like every other happily married man: he wanted everyone else to be happily married, too. Until last year, when he’d married Meg, Earl had been content to let Sam work out his problems in his own way and time, ready to lend an ear when necessary, but essentially hands-off.

      Not anymore. Since his marriage, Earl had been persistently nudging Sam to rejoin the human race.

      Well, maybe it was time, Sam thought as he slid behind the wheel. Not to date or anything, but to get over himself. Grieving was one thing, but clinging to it was something else.

      And he supposed he’d better ask Mary if she wanted to come with him to the Sanders’s house tonight before it got much later. He wasn’t so rusty he didn’t remember that last-minute invitations could be construed as insulting.

      He drove over to her house—it was along his patrol route anyway—and found her in her front garden. Wearing shorts, a halter top and a bandanna over her gorgeous hair, she was kneeling before a bed of marigolds, weeding industriously.

      Nice view, Sam thought as he pulled up. Probably giving his father a heart attack, if Elijah was home across the street. It wasn’t giving Sam a heart attack, though; it was giving him an equally strong but very different reaction.

      He turned off the ignition and sat a moment, indulging himself. Mary had a nice bottom, with little left to the imagination as the shorts stretched tightly over it. Nice legs, too, slender but not skinny.

      Just then she straightened and twisted to see who had stopped, giving him a great view of her breasts in their sheath of stretchy red cotton. Yup, Elijah would have a heart attack.

      Suddenly feeling guilty, Sam climbed out of his car. Mary smiled and waved, as unself-conscious as a child who had been playing in a sandbox. She clearly had no idea that one of her neighbors would consider her to be indecently dressed. Nor was Sam going to advise her. Elijah had always needed to loosen up a bit.

      “Hi,” she said. She dropped her trowel and weeding fork and pushed herself to her feet. For an instant Sam could almost see down the neck of her top. Down, boy.

      Her knees were grungy with dirt, but she didn’t seem aware of it. He smiled to himself. “Morning,” he said. “Sorry to bother you but…” It suddenly struck him that he didn’t know how to ask.

      “But?” She waited with a pleasantly expectant look on her face. “Did you forget something last night?”

      “Uh…no. It’s… Well, I was wondering. Would you like to go to the Sanders’s house with me for dinner tonight?”

      Something almost fearful flickered across her face, making him wonder what he’d said. Reviewing his words, he couldn’t see anything frightening in them. But they certainly weren’t clear enough. “Not a date or anything,” he blurted.

      He winced inwardly, realizing how that sounded. Man, his social skills had not only atrophied, they’d died. Now she would be offended, and rightly so.

      But she surprised him by looking relieved. “Great. Sure, I’d like that. As long as it’s not a date.”

      She looked relieved because it wasn’t a date. Sam was taken aback by the disappointment he felt, even though he’d laid the ground rule himself. But no, he must be mistaking a little ego bash for something else. He wasn’t capable of getting involved again.

      “Good,” he said, forcing a smile. “It’ll be fun.”

      “I’m sure it will.”

      A few moments of awkward silence, as if neither of them knew what to say next. Get back to work, Sam told himself, but that seemed too abrupt right after asking a woman to dinner—even if it wasn’t a date. But he wasn’t much of a talker, never had been. Although this was even worse than usual.

      Mary gave him a sidelong look, as if she were a little uncertain herself. Then she shocked him. “Your father?”

      He didn’t want to talk about Elijah. He wanted to pretend the man didn’t exist, even if he was right across the street. But Mary’s mention had been so tentative. And what if something was wrong? “What about him?” he asked roughly.

      “He’s standing in his window watching us.”

      Sam swung around and saw Elijah standing in the picture window across the street. The man didn’t acknowledge him with so much as a wave. “Nosy old coot,” Sam said, his gut twisting.

      “Maybe…maybe he’s hoping you’ll come talk to him.” She offered it almost as a question, hesitantly.

      “Not a chance in hell.” Sam turned his back on the old man. “He probably figures you’re in trouble with the law. That’s the way his mind runs.” And he needed to get out of there before the old anger managed to burn through the glacier that encased his heart.

      “Well,” said Mary, an impish smile coming to her mouth, while a strange shadow remained in her eyes, “I’m sure he thinks I’m a scarlet woman after our conversation about books yesterday.”

      Sam gave a bark of laughter. “Maybe. I’ll see you tonight, Mary. Gotta get back to work.”

      He felt her eyes on him as he drove away.

      When Sam’s car disappeared around the corner, Mary looked again at the house across the street. Elijah Canfield had disappeared from his window.

      She didn’t want to believe Sam was right about his father. She didn’t want to believe any parent was capable of such meanness. But she was also an experienced teacher and she knew better. She’d certainly seen her share of it.

      Troubled, she went back to her weeding, trying to ignore a prickling at the back of her neck that seemed to say she was being watched. There was no reason on earth why Elijah Canfield would want to watch her grubbing around in the dirt.

      But surely there had to be some way for Sam and Elijah to reconcile?

      “Hello.”

      The deep voice, so like Sam’s, caused Mary to start. Twisting, she found Elijah Canfield standing in her driveway. He was wearing dark slacks and a white shirt with the collar open and the sleeves rolled up.

      “Hi,” she answered, feeling wary.

      “I wanted to apologize for the way we got off on the wrong foot yesterday,” he said, giving her a pleasant smile. He was a handsome man, she thought irrelevantly. Almost as handsome as his son.

      Mary sat back on her heels, still holding her weeding fork, and looked up at him. “We had a significant disagreement of opinion,” she said, keeping her voice gentle. “Nothing wrong with that.”

      He nodded briefly, an acknowledgment that didn’t quite make it to agreement. “But we’re neighbors,” he said.

      “That’s right.” Mary waited, a trick she’d learned with difficult adolescents. Let the silence hang until the other person felt compelled to speak. She certainly wasn’t prepared to go out on a limb with this man; she didn’t know him. But