Hawk's Way by Joan Johnston Page B

silver buckle she felt sure he had earned as a prize at some rodeo. He wore the same tooled black leather boots he had worn all day; the scuff marks showed the hard use they’d had.
    She almost offered to iron his shirt, then changed her mind. Somehow she knew he wouldn’t appreciate the suggestion. Besides, if he had really been concerned about his appearance, he could have asked for the iron himself. “I’m ready anytime you are,” she said.
    The ride to Dallas’s place in Jesse’s pickup truck—which was barely two years old and in surprisingly good shape compared to his clothing—took barely an hour. Because of the long, uncomfortable silences between inane bits of conversation, it felt a lot longer.
    Even in the modern West, a man was still entitled to his privacy. Thus Honey didn’t feel she could ask Jesse about himself. That left a myriad of other subjects, not one of which came readily to mind.
    The silence was deafening by the time Jessesaid, “How long have you known Dallas and Angel?”
    Honey grabbed at the conversational gambit like a gambler for a deck of cards. “I met Dallas about four years ago when he and Cale started working together on assignments for the Texas Rangers. Dallas introduced me to Angel a little over a year ago, about the same time she and Dallas met each other.”
    â€œHow did the two of them meet?” Jesse asked.
    â€œYou know, they never said. Every time I asked, Angel blushed and Dallas laughed and said, ‘You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.’”
    â€œHow did you and that Philips guy meet?” Jesse asked.
    That was more personal ground. Honey hesitated, then grinned and admitted, “Dallas invited me on a double date with Adam and Angel. By the end of the day, Dallas ended up with Angel, and Adam and I were a couple.”
    â€œHow serious are things between you and Philips?”
    Honey shot a quick look at Jesse, but his expression was bland. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”
    â€œI think maybe it is.”
    â€œI can’t imagine why—”
    â€œCan’t you?” His piercing gaze riveted her for a moment before he had to look at the road again.
    Honey’s pulse began to speed. She grasped at the opportunity to put the hired hand in his place once and for all. “Adam has asked me to marry him,” she said.
    A muscle jerked in Jesse’s cheek. “You don’t love him,” he said curtly.
    â€œYou can’t possibly know whether I love him or not.”
    He cocked a brow and his lips drew up cynically. “Can’t I?”
    Honey turned to stare out the window, avoiding his searching look.
    â€œAre you going to marry him?”
    â€œI—” Honey considered lying. Perhaps if she told Jesse she was committed to another man, he would leave her alone. But she couldn’t use Adam like that—simply to keep another man at arm’s length. “No,” she admitted.
    â€œGood.”
    Nothing else passed between them for the few minutes it took to traverse the length of the road from the cattle guard at the entrance to Dallas’s ranch to the Victorian ranch house. At least, nothing in words. But Honey was aware of the portal the drifter had forced open between them.
    â€œI won’t ever hurt you,” Jesse said in a quiet voice.
    â€œYou can, you know,” she said in an equally quiet voice.
    His lips flattened. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”
    â€œThen leave me alone.”
    â€œI can’t do that.”
    â€œJesse…”
    The Mastersons’ porch light was on, and Jesse pulled the truck up well within its glow. He killed the engine and turned to look at Honey. “Is it your husband?” he asked bluntly.
    Honey felt the pain that always came with memories of Cale. “Cale is dead.”
    â€œI know that. Do you?”
    Honey gasped and turned to