Mason. Delores Fossen

didn’t,” Abbie answered as fast as she could, and she was getting darn tired of that broken-record accusation.

      Grayson looked first at Mason. Then her. “Is that why you’re here at the ranch, because of Boone?”

      “No,” Abbie said at the exact moment that Mason said, “Yes.”

      Grayson gave them a raised eyebrow. “Well, which is it?”

      Both Rylands stared at her, waiting. “Boone doesn’t know I’m here, and he didn’t send me,” Abbie insisted. “He believes he doesn’t stand a chance of reconciling with any of you.”

      “He’s right,” Mason jumped to answer.

      Grayson didn’t voice an opinion, but his expression made it clear that Mason and he were of a like mind. And that meant Abbie was wasting her time and putting them in future danger for no reason. Well, except that she might get some answers from Grayson that she hadn’t managed to get from his brother.

      Abbie hugged the clothes to her chest and looked Grayson in the eyes. “Boone never talked much about all of you, so I don’t know why he left.”

      Mason cursed.

      Grayson lifted his shoulder. “Does it matter why?” he asked.

      Unlike Mason, he actually waited for her to answer. “Maybe.” That required a deep breath. “Something’s wrong.”

      “If he’s dying, then you’d better break the news to someone who gives a flying fig,” Mason grumbled.

      Abbie was about to tell him that Boone wasn’t dying, but she had no idea if that was true. And that made her sick to her stomach. Yes, Mason had a right to be this enraged, but she was already getting tired of it. He was aiming that venom not just at her but also at the man who’d raised her. A man she loved like a father.

      “Get dressed,” Mason said again. This time it was an order, and he grabbed on to the concho and shoved it back into her gown so that it was out of sight. “I’ll drive you into town so you can leave Silver Creek.”

      Grayson had a different reaction. He flexed those previously raised eyebrows. “Someone just tried to kill her,” he reminded Mason. “And that someone likely set fire to the guesthouse with her in it. As the sheriff, I think I’d like to get to the bottom of that first before she leaves.”

      “Boone sent her,” Mason argued.

      “And we can send her back. After the doc checks her out and she answers a few questions.” Because Mason was clearly gearing up for an argument, Grayson tipped his head to the clothes. “Go ahead and change.”

      Abbie considered staying put, considered trying to convince them that she wasn’t there on a mission of peacemaking, but it was obviously an argument she’d lose. On a huff she headed to the bathroom but didn’t shut the door all the way. She needed to hear what the Ryland brothers were planning to do with her. Too bad she couldn’t quite manage that because both lowered their voices to whispers.

      Angry ones.

      Mason was still no doubt insisting that she leave immediately. Grayson had the more level head, and she remembered Boone calling him an old soul.

      Abbie hurriedly changed into loose pants and oversized denim shirt. No underwear, but the flat slipper-type shoes fit. She was ready to face down the enemy, or rather her former employer, until she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Mercy. There was soot on her face. Her hair was a tangled mess, and there were dark circles under her eyes. And then she wondered why she cared.

      Oh, yes. She remembered.

      Mason, and that body-to-body contact. Abbie cursed him. Cursed herself. She didn’t let men get under her skin, and she wasn’t about to start now.

      Steeled with that reminder, Abbie walked back into the main room, only to have both Ryland men stop their whispered conversation and stare at her.

      “So, what’s the verdict?” she came right out and asked. Of course, Mason scowled at her and mumbled something she probably didn’t want to hear anyway.

      “Our other brothers Dade and Nate are out looking for the man who took shots at you,” Grayson informed her. He was all cop now. “Any idea who he was?”

      She shook her head. “It was too dark to see his face.”

      Mason swung his attention in her direction. “What about the man who set the fire? Too dark to see him, too?”

      Abbie ignored the skeptical, snarky tone. “I didn’t see him,” she verified. “In fact, I didn’t see anyone. I only sensed someone was there.”

      “Your senses are good,” Grayson volunteered. “Because I looked at the door that Mason pulled off you. It’d been torn from its hinges. If you didn’t do that—”

      “I didn’t.”

      Grayson lifted his shoulder. “Then someone else did. I’m guessing it was the same man who fired those shots.”

      She guessed the same. Abbie also guessed that his brothers would give it their best efforts in searching for the man. But she also knew there were miles and miles of wooded area surrounding the Ryland ranch. The odds weren’t good. And that put a hard knot back in her stomach.

      “He’ll be back,” she said before she could stop herself. Abbie instantly regretted the admission, but it didn’t surprise Grayson. Perhaps not Mason either. It was hard to tell because his face seemed to be frozen in that permanent glare.

      “Boone didn’t send me,” she reiterated. “And I’m sorry that you’re riled because someone tried to kill me on your ranch.”

      “I’m not riled because of that.” That got rid of the glare. Judging from his annoyed huff, Mason hadn’t intended to ditch the glare, raise his voice. Or show even a smidgen of what had to be a bad temper to go along with that gruff exterior.

      But Abbie hadn’t intended to go the snark route either. “Look, I’m frustrated. Scared. And feeling a dozen other things that you clearly don’t want me to feel. I’m sorry.”

      “Quit apologizing,” Mason snapped. He stared at her. And stared. Then cursed again. “Quit apologizing,” he repeated.

      Like the little arm rub he’d given her earlier, before he’d seen the concho, it sounded, well, human.

      Grayson gave them both a stern glance, especially his brother. “Are you two sleeping together or something?”

      “No!” Mason and she said in unison. Mason shot his brother a look that could have frozen Hades.

      Grayson did some more staring and then made a sound of disbelief. “Then maybe we can concentrate on finding the man who tried to kill you.” He waited until he had their attention before he continued. “I’ve already made a call to Marshal Harlan McKinney to let him know what’s going on, and I’ve put out feelers to find out if Vernon Ferguson’s connected to this.”

      She gave a weary sigh and pushed her hair from her face. “You won’t find a connection,” Abbie assured him. “Ferguson’s too smart for that.” And that reminder caused her to go still. “Ferguson found me awfully fast. I’ve been here at the ranch only three days.”

      “Maybe Boone told him,” Mason instantly suggested.

      Abbie didn’t even have to consider it. “Boone doesn’t know I’m here. That’s the truth. I told him I was visiting a friend in Austin.”

      Mason gave her a flat stare. “So you’re telling us the truth, but you lied to him?”

      “Yes.” She ignored his sarcasm and turned toward Mason. “Did you do some kind of background check on me?”

      Mason probably would have preferred to continue the sniping match, but she saw the moment that he turned from an angry son to a concerned rancher and lawman. “Of