Foxfire Light by Janet Dailey

time.”
    â€œYes, Joanna felt badly about some of the things she said to Jessie.” Her uncle corroborated her assertion that she had been candid about her role in the events that transpired after her car landed in the ditch. Reece paused near the chintz-covered sofa positioned in front of the brick fireplace. “May I bring you some coffee, Linc?”
    â€œPlease,” he accepted.
    â€œI’ll get it,” Joanna volunteered, welcoming an excuse to leave the room.
    â€œNo.” Her uncle firmly rejected the offer. “You stay here. I want you and Linc to get acquainted.”
    Joanna was left with little choice except to agree. As her uncle departed for the kitchen, she let her gaze swing to Linc Wilder. He was standing near the couch, watching her lazily with his cat’s eyes.
    Relegated to the role of hostess, she made a stiff gesture to invite him to sit down. “Make yourself comfortable.”
    â€œThank you.” Dryness quirked the corners of his mouth as he folded his long body onto the couch.
    He removed his hat, setting it on the adjoining sofa cushion, and combed his fingers through the brown thickness of his hair to unflatten it. His glance ran back to her in a prodding reminder that she was still standing. Joanna sat down in the nearest chair, too nervous to relax against the seat back.
    â€œSo you were embarrassed yesterday?” It was a baiting question. “You didn’t appear to be.”
    â€œNo one likes to feel embarrassed. They usually try to cover it up with a show of indifference or bravado.” She relied on those ploys now and attempted to put him on the defensive by questioning his actions the previous day. “You knew who I was. You probably even guessed Reece was my uncle before I mentioned it. Yet you didn’t acknowledge that you knew him. Don’t you think that was rude not to let me know how much farther it was to the cabin?”
    â€œThat wasn’t rude. It was rural.”
    â€œWhich means?” she bristled.
    â€œWhich means we aren’t in the habit of turning the other cheek,” he replied, his level gaze on her. “You didn’t appreciate the help we gave you getting the car out of the ditch. So why should I help you again?”
    â€œI did appreciate your help,” Joanna insisted.
    â€œYou didn’t show it,” Linc Wilder countered. “Or were you trying to supposedly cover up your true feelings again?”
    â€œMaybe I didn’t sound properly grateful,” she conceded stiffly. “But you weren’t exactly a model of tact yourself. You can’t say that you behaved like a gentleman.”
    â€œNo, but I didn’t see any lady in the vicinity either.” His smooth reply was almost a slap in the face.
    Joanna whitened. “I hope you don’t expect me to apologize for yesterday.”
    â€œI expect nothing.”
    â€œGood, because Mr. Bates is the only one who deserves an apology from me,” she stated with a cold glare.
    An eyebrow was briefly lifted. “At least you recognize that,” he murmured.
    â€œI recognize a lot of things, Mr. Wilder.” She was angry, controlling her temper and the volume of her voice with an effort. “I have already admitted that I’m not proud of the way I behaved yesterday, but that isn’t good enough for you. I pity your wife for being married to such a hard, unforgiving man.”
    â€œYou can save your pity. I’m not married,” he replied.
    â€œI can see why,” Joanna declared.
    Her uncle returned from the kitchen, carrying a tray with three coffee mugs on it. He set it down on the short cypress table in front of the sofa, not noticing the sudden silence that dominated the room. After he had handed each of them a mug, he sat on the couch with Linc.
    â€œIt is a lovely evening,” Reece stated on a contented note. “Did you hear the whippoorwills outside a few minutes