Alaskan Hideaway. Beth Carpenter

just go see about those brownies,” Catherine murmured. “Come on, Blossom. I’ll bet we could find you a dog biscuit.”

      â€œCome in.” Ursula stepped back from the door to allow Mac inside.

      He handed her the cellophane-wrapped bundles. “For you.”

      Ursula gathered the three, no, four bouquets in her arms. “Thank you, but why are you bringing me flowers?”

      â€œI want to apologize.” Actually, from the pained expression on his face, the last thing he wanted was to apologize, but he was doing it anyway. This should be good.

      â€œCome with me.” Ursula led him through the maze of tables and power cords littering the living room.

      â€œWhat’s going on?”

      â€œA quilt retreat. Twice a year, Catherine and a dozen or so of her friends reserve the whole inn and spend the weekend sewing. It’s a lot of fun.”

      â€œDo you quilt?”

      â€œI dabble, but I’m not a serious quilter like these ladies. My job is to keep everyone fed and happy.” Ursula gestured for him to sit on the couch near the fireplace and laid the flowers in a basket on the coffee table. She sat in a chair directly across from him and leaned forward. “Okay, shoot.”

      â€œShoot what?”

      â€œThe apology. You said you wanted to apologize. I’m ready.”

      He chuckled. “You’re not making this easy.”

      â€œWell, I’m curious exactly what you’re apologizing for. Blocking access to the ski trails without giving me notice? Siccing your dog on me? Threatening to have me arrested for trespassing? If it involves this many flowers, it must be serious.”

      â€œActually, none of those things. Well, all those things, but they’re not the main reason I’m here.” He took a long breath. “I was rude to you yesterday because I blamed you for something of which I’ve since learned you were innocent.”

      She raised an eyebrow. “Say again?”

      â€œYesterday. When I found your note that you had the dog.” He explained, and as he talked, Ursula started to smile. By the time he’d finished, she was laughing out loud.

      â€œYou really thought I’d sneaked into your house and kidnapped your dog just so I could bug you about the right-of-way.” She shook her head. “You have some imagination.”

      â€œOccupational hazard, I suppose.”

      â€œWhat occupation is that?”

      â€œI’m a writer.”

      â€œAre you? That’s exciting. What do you write?”

      â€œThrillers.”

      â€œAh. I don’t read a lot of those. Too scary. I would have thought growing up on a ranch, you’d write Westerns.”

      Mac shook his head. “No. Growing up on a ranch means I know too much to write pretty little stories about cowboys.”

      â€œThat bad?”

      â€œNo.” He paused and just for a moment his gaze went past her toward some remembered place. “Rather wonderful actually. It was losing the ranch that was hard. My dad never really got over it. He died young. They both did.” He gave a sudden smile. “But I didn’t come to talk about myself. I came to say I’m sorry.”

      â€œI accept your apology.”

      â€œGood. Well then, if I can find my dog, I’ll let you get back to what you were doing.”

      â€œI’ll get her.” She gathered up the bouquets before starting for the kitchen. “Thank you for the flowers. They’re lovely.”

      â€œI’m glad you like them. Thank you for delivering the eagle and picking up the fencing wire. And for your patience.”

      â€œYou’re welcome. See you around.” Before she could get to the kitchen, the door opened and Blossom ran past her to Mac.

      Catherine followed, carrying a tray. “Mac, take one of these brownies before you go. Ursula made them. She’s a fantastic cook.”

      â€œYes, I know.” Mac nodded before accepting a brownie and taking his leave.

      Ursula carried the flowers into the kitchen. She was on a step stool, retrieving vases from the highest shelves when Catherine bustled in. “So what was that all about?”

      Ursula grabbed a ceramic jar and set it on the counter before answering. “You mean you weren’t standing in the kitchen with your ear pressed against the door?”

      â€œI was but he didn’t talk loud enough. Spill. Why are good-looking men bringing you bucket loads of flowers?”

      Ursula shrugged. “It was one man and who knows why he does what he does?”

      â€œSo you admit he’s good-looking.”

      â€œHe is. He’s also my new neighbor.”

      â€œMaybe he wants to be more than your neighbor.”

      â€œJust the opposite, I think.” Ursula stepped down. “He’s bribing me to leave him alone.”

      â€œIf that were true, wouldn’t he have brought a cactus?”

      Ursula laughed and filled the vases with water. “He’s as prickly as a cactus, but it seems his overachieving conscience won’t let him get away with being rude. Thus, the flowers. Now that he’s apologized, he can go back to brooding in his cave.”

      â€œWe’ll see.”

      â€œYes, we will.” Ursula trimmed the stems of one bouquet, stuffed it into a vase, fluffed the flowers and handed the arrangement to Catherine. “Here, you can put these out for your quilters to enjoy.”

      * * *

      IT DIDN’T TAKE long for the locksmith to do his thing. Once he’d gone, Mac made sure the deadbolts were latched and slipped the new keys onto his key ring. The leather fob had worn to the point that it was hard to read the M stamped onto it. Another of Andi’s craft projects, back before she realized leather came from cows.

      Mac picked up his phone and dialed the familiar number. He was in luck. Detective Russ Ralston was in.

      â€œIt’s Mac. Just checking in to see if you’ve found any new evidence.”

      â€œSorry, nothing.” He sounded almost as frustrated as Mac felt.

      â€œHave you checked out that tip from—?”

      â€œYou know I can’t share details. Rest assured, we’re following up every lead. That reward you offered has generated plenty of interest. So far none of the calls have panned out, but we’re still working on it. We won’t give up until we find him.”

      Mac believed him. Russ was a longtime acquaintance and had a daughter two years younger than Andi. He was taking Andi’s murder as a personal affront. Not that Mac was relying entirely on police resources. The private investigator he’d hired was canvassing everyone even remotely connected to Joel Thaine, Andi’s boyfriend.

      Mac never liked him. The first time they met, there was something...off about the young man. Nothing he could put a finger on, just the feeling Thaine was playing a part, saying what he was supposed to say to his girlfriend’s