Roan by Jennifer Blake

Author:Jennifer Blake [Blake, Jennifer]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Romance, Contemporary
ISBN: 9780727881243
Publisher: Mira
Published: 2000-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

11

As time for the early dinner hour kept at Dog Trot neared that evening, Tory sauntered into the kitchen and took a seat at the butcher-block table. Roan looked up from where he stood over the stove frying chicken. Tory held his gaze, her own straight and inquiring. He tilted his head, as though considering. Then he calmly asked Jake to set another place. She felt as if she had won a major skirmish in an undeclared war.

While they ate, Tory took careful, if furtive, note of the enemy, mentally comparing Roan to the attic photograph. His expression gave little away as he talked with Jake about the sick hound and a truck-car accident in the center of town. She came to the interesting conclusion that Roan had a solemn personality, or at least he didn’t smile too often.

She had thought that he was somber around her because of her invidious position as a suspect, but perhaps it was simply that he didn’t find much pleasure in life. It was a side effect, possibly, of constant exposure to the seamier side of human nature through his job. But it might also be that he was simply unhappy or unfulfilled in some way important to him. She could understand that all too well.

She offered to help with the dishes, but was firmly refused. Either Roan didn’t want her underfoot, or he was wary of letting her get too close. Whatever the reason, it made her feel useless and in the way, especially as he and his son moved back and forth in a choreographed routine, as if they’d cleared away together a thousand times. They didn’t need her help, didn’t need her; that was plain to see.

Still, she hovered near the door, uncertain whether to go or stay and unwilling to say good-night and retreat once more to her empty room while it was still daylight. As she stood there, Beau heaved himself up from in front of the window and padded over to her to nudge his big head under her hand. She accepted the hint, smoothing her hand over the short, silky hair on his head and scratching behind his ears as she considered the idea that Roan thought her incompetent. She might lack something in the housekeeping department, but she was more than proficient in the kitchen. There was a lot she could show him about his battering and frying techniques for chicken, for instance. Telling him wouldn’t work nearly as well as showing him, she suspected. She just might do that, too. If she stayed around that long.

The bloodhound, watching her with soulful eyes and a mournful mien, reached out with his nose to sniff her wrist, then gave the palm of her hand a slurping lick. She wiped the wet patch on the side of her shorts, but smiled at the big dog anyway. At least somebody at Dog Trot approved of her and was willing to offer a little companionship.

“Come on, Beau,” she said. “Let’s take a walk.

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