Ramona and the Renegade. Marie Ferrarella

to the fireplace and getting a fire going. There was kindling beside the stone fireplace. It didn’t appear to be that old. Someone had obviously been here and used the fireplace since the last owner had vacated the premises. He shifted several pieces, positioning them in the hearth.

      Mona went over to the lone window that faced the front of the house and looked out. The rain seemed to be coming down even harder, if that was possible. She shivered slightly, not so much from the cold as from the feeling of isolation.

      “Think this’ll last all night?” she asked Joe, still staring out the window.

      He hefted another log, putting it on top of the others. “That’s what they say.”

      She didn’t like the sound of that. Turning away from the window, she addressed her words to his back. “You mean, we have to stay here until morning?”

      Joe fished a book of matches out of his front pocket. He didn’t smoke anymore, hadn’t for years now, but he still liked to have a book of matches in his possession. You never knew when they might come in handy—like now. He had no patience with the old ways when it came to making fire, even though, when push came to shove, he was good at it.

      “Unless you want to risk being caught in a flash flood the way we almost were back there.”

      She sighed, moving about restlessly. The cabin was sinking into darkness and although she’d grown up in Forever, this setup was disquieting.

      “Not exactly the way I pictured spending my first night back home,” she told him.

      “You mean, stranded and hungry?” he guessed.

      “For openers,” she agreed. Mona ran her hand along her extremely flat abdomen. It had been rumbling for a while now.

      He crossed to her. It might have been her imagination, but Joe seemed somehow taller to her in this cabin.

      “When did you eat last?” he wanted to know.

      “This morning. I skipped lunch to get an early start driving down to Forever.” It had seemed like a good idea at the time. She hadn’t bothered to listen to the weather forecast. She wished she had now. “I figured I’d be in time to grab a late lunch at Miss Joan’s,” she added. Miss Joan, the owner of the diner, had been a fixture around Forever for as long as she could remember.

      Arms wrapped around her to ward off the chill, Mona glanced around the cabin’s main room again. “Doesn’t look as if there’s been food around here for a good long while.”

      “Except for maybe the four-footed kind,” Joe interjected as the sound of something small and swift was heard rustling toward the rear of the room. A rat?

      “I’ll pass, thanks,” she muttered. She wasn’t that hungry yet, Mona thought. She preferred meals that didn’t deliver themselves.

      “You sure?” Joe asked, a hint of a grin on his lips. “I hear that squirrels and possums taste just like—”

      “Chicken, yes, I’ve heard the same myth,” she said, cutting him off. “I’ll let you know if I get that hungry. I’m not there yet.” And hopefully never would be, she added silently.

      He looked mildly amused. “Suit yourself.”

      “What, you’re willing to eat a squirrel?” she challenged. He couldn’t be serious, she thought. Joe knew better than that. “They’re full of diseases. You won’t have any idea what you’re swallowing,” she insisted.

      “Yeah, I will,” he said.

      Was he just trying to bait her? And then she realized that Joe was walking toward the door. He couldn’t be going out—or could he? “Where are you going?” she wanted to know.

      “To my Jeep to get the dinner I was bringing home from Miss Joan’s.”

      “You had food all this time and you let me go on about the rodents?” she demanded.

      “Never known anyone to be able to stop you once you got wound up,” he pointed out. “I figured I’d just wait it out, like the storm. Be right back,” he told her. He opened the door only as much as he had to in order to slip out.

      He heard her muttering a few choice words aimed in his direction before the wind carried them away.

      Making his way to the Jeep, Joe smiled to himself. Yup, same old Mona. There was a comfort in that.

      Chapter Three

      Wind and rain accompanied Joe’s reentry into the cabin several minutes later. Mona was quick to throw her weight against the door in order to shut it again.

      “Took you long enough,” she commented, hoping to divert his attention from the fact that she had been right next to the door, waiting for his return. Her concern had nothing to do with hunger. But there was no way she was about to admit that.

      “I’ll move faster next time.” Opening his jacket, he took out the prize and placed it on the rickety kitchen table. The next moment, he shed the jacket and spread it out in front of the fireplace. With any luck, it would be dry by morning.

      “Any sign of the storm breaking up?” she asked hopefully. She really wanted to be in town before nightfall.

      Joe shook his head. “If anything, it’s getting worse,” he told her.

      Frowning, Mona glanced at the food he’d braved the elements to bring in.

      “This is all that you eat?” she asked incredulously. The only thing on the table was a roast-beef sandwich, perched on a bed of wax paper.

      “I wasn’t planning on having to share it with anyone,” Joe said a little defensively.

      “Share?” she repeated. “It’s not big enough for one person, let alone two.” The man was six-two with a far better than average build. Didn’t that take some kind of decent fuel to maintain? “Don’t you get hungry?”

      Wide, strong shoulders rose and then fell carelessly beneath his deputy’s shirt. The material strained against his biceps.

      “Not really,” he answered. “Eating’s never been a big deal for me.”

      It wasn’t exactly a new revelation. Thinking back, she knew that no one could ever accuse Joe of consuming too much. He’s always had the build of a rock-hard athlete without so much as an ounce of fat to spare. It was the reason that so many girls drooled over him. Or at least one of the reasons, she amended. The fact that he had brooding good looks didn’t exactly hurt.

      Joe didn’t sit down at the table. Instead, he pushed the sandwich toward her. “You can have most of it if you like. I’m not really hungry.”

      Well, she was. While tempted to take him at his word, Mona didn’t really believe him. He was just being Joe and that entailed being quietly noble. She wasn’t about to take advantage of that. Hungry or not, it didn’t seem fair. “When did you last eat?” she asked him, repeating the question that Joe had put to her less than a few minutes ago.

      He didn’t even bother trying to remember, shrugging off the question. “I don’t know.” He made a vague gesture with his hand. “I don’t live by a clock when it comes to food. I eat when I’m hungry, I don’t when I’m not.”

      “We’ll split it,” she declared, her tone saying that she wasn’t about to take no for an answer and she was done discussing it. Gingerly sitting down on one of the two chairs, Mona picked up the half closest to her.

      Joe ignored the finality in her tone. “You just said that there wasn’t even enough for one person,” he reminded her. Was he trying to pick a fight? Mona forced a fake smile to her lips. “And now I’m saying that we’re splitting it. Seems to me if you can listen to me say one thing, you can listen to me say the other.”

      He laughed shortly and picked up the half closest to him. “It’s been dull without you here.”