Army Ranger Redemption. Carol Ericson

her head around just in time to meet Jim’s gaze across the dining room.

      Jason growled. “He’s that racist SOB biker.”

      Scarlett jabbed her cousin with her elbow. “Jim’s not like that. You’re talking about his father. What did happen to Slick Kennedy, anyway?”

      “Someone killed him in Seattle a few years back...and nobody around here gave a damn.” He kicked Scarlett’s foot. “Shh. He’s coming this way.”

      “Why’s he coming over here?” A slow blush spread across Chloe’s cheeks, and Jason gave his girlfriend a sharp look.

      “H-he was with me last night when I found the body.”

      Jason transferred his look from Chloe to her.

      “I guess he has his dad’s place now. It’s down the road from mine.”

      As Jason opened his mouth, Scarlett nudged the leg of his stool to shut him up.

      “Are you okay? Did you get any sleep?” Jim studied her through dark-smudged eyes while running a hand through his messy hair.

      “Looks like I got more than you.” She wanted to ask him if he’d injured himself falling off her porch, but he wouldn’t appreciate her concern—especially not in front of Jason and Chloe.

      “I have a hard time sleeping in that place, dead body or no dead body.”

      She tipped her head toward Jason. “This is my cousin, Jason Foster, and his girlfriend Chloe Rayman.”

      Jim took Chloe’s hand and the girl looked ready to faint. Then he shook Jason’s hand, despite the once-over her cousin was giving him. “You know anyone interested in some old Harleys?”

      Jason’s eyes lit up. “You selling?”

      “I have a few bikes I’m looking to get rid of. Stop by any time if you want to have a look. I’ll give you a deal.”

      “I’ll do that, man. Thanks.” Jason kissed Chloe on the side of the head. “Now I really have to get back to work.”

      They said goodbye and Chloe scooted back to her abandoned tables with a flick of her hand.

      “Do you mind?” Jim pushed out the stool next to her with his foot.

      “Go ahead.” She grabbed a menu from behind the bar as if she’d planned to eat lunch here all along. “Was the rest of your night uneventful?”

      His dark gaze drifted away from her face for a few seconds, and then he cleared his throat. “Yeah. You? Were the deputies there all night?”

      “I think so. They were there when I went to bed, and a few were there this morning.”

      “Any news?” He pointed to her menu. “You done with that?”

      She slid it across to him. “Autopsy this morning, but I haven’t heard anything.”

      The bartender dropped another menu in front of Scarlett. “Are you two ordering lunch?”

      “I am. Give me a minute.” Jim ran his finger down the menu and looked at her over the top. “Burgers any good here?”

      “You’re asking the wrong person. I’m a vegetarian.”

      He peered down the bar. “They seem popular.”

      When the bartender returned, Jim ordered a burger and fries, and she stuck to the vegetarian chili, her go-to meal at Sutter’s.

      “Anything to drink?”

      They both ordered water.

      When the bartender placed their glasses in front of them, Scarlett followed a bead of moisture running down the outside of her glass with her fingertip. “I wanted to ask you if you were okay after...after your fall last night.”

      His jaw hardened and a muscle ticked in the corner of his mouth. “The darkness, the excitement, threw me off balance. I usually don’t trip over my own feet, believe it or not. Spent enough time in physical therapy to avoid that.”

      “What happened to your leg?” Taking a sip of water, she avoided his gaze. Would he lash out? Refuse to answer her?

      “It broke in a few places and never healed properly.”

      Okay, so he’d just be vague about it.

      “Ouch. Sounds painful. I suppose it happened when you were...over there.”

      “Uh-huh.” He gestured to the bartender. “Can you bring me some ketchup when you get a chance, please?”

      She didn’t need a brick wall to fall on her to get the hint. Personal stuff—off-limits. “I sure hope the sheriff’s department can find out who this guy is and what happened to him—and if he had some kind of beef with his killer.”

      “I’m sure they’ll be able to ID him soon, and most likely it wasn’t a random hit. You still need to upgrade the security on your place. Even if you believe you’re safe in Timberline, you might want to do a better job protecting your...art.”

      She narrowed her eyes. “Did I detect a little sarcasm in your tone?”

      “What? Not at all.” He rolled his water glass between his hands. “I like it.”

      “The landscape art.”

      “That, too, but the other stuff...” He shook his head. “Crazy intense.”

      A warm glow settled in her belly. Usually she didn’t care what people thought about her art. She created her work from a personal, imaginative space inside her brain, and if she didn’t give expression to those thoughts, her head would explode. It had just been a side bonus that other people, including the art critics, had appreciated her abstract art and paid top dollar for it.

      The fact that a man like Jim liked it, got it, made her feel like he got her, that he saw her.

      She wanted to get him, too. She felt like she could if he’d let her.

      “Veggie chili and Sutter’s burger.” The bartender dipped beneath the bar and gave them each a silverware setting wrapped in a cloth napkin.

      Jim proceeded to drench everything in ketchup.

      She pointed a spoon at his fries. “Have some fries with your ketchup.”

      One corner of his mouth lifted, which was about the closest thing she’d seen to a smile from him.

      “One of my many quirks.” He bit off the end of a French fry and asked, “Where do you live when you’re not spilling your guts on a canvas in Timberline?”

      “San Francisco. I have a small place in the city that I share with another artist. When he’s gone, I’m usually there and when I’m here, he’s in the city.”

      “Boyfriend?” He took a big bite of his burger.

      “What? The artist?” She slipped a spoonful of chili in her mouth to hide her smile, happy that he’d been concerned enough to ask. “Marco is not my boyfriend.”

      “I was gonna say, tough to have a relationship with someone you hardly see.”

      “Tough to have a relationship with another artist. Marco and I had a thing once, but it was exhausting—and not in a good way.” She winked at him.

      He raised one eyebrow and took another bite of his burger.

      She zigzagged her spoon through the hot surface of her chili and watched the steam curl up. How had he gotten her to open up while he remained aloof and closemouthed?

      “And you? Are you going to settle in Timberline or do you have a home somewhere else?”

      “I don’t have a home, and I sure as hell don’t plan to stay in Timberline.”

      “Are you here to sell your father’s place?