Once a Rebel by Sheri Whitefeather Page A

looking for Cathy. Did you find her?”
    â€œNo. I checked behind the outbuildings first, but there was no sign of her.”
    â€œI guess she picked a new spot to sneak a smoke.”
    â€œSo it seems.” She broke eye contact, looking around. “Does she come to the barn every morning or is this a long shot?”
    â€œI don’t know. I’m not here every day. But I’ve seen her quite a few times, dressed for school, with her backpack and all that.”
    â€œMaking friends with the horses?”
    â€œYep.” He moved closer. “Like you just did with Serene.”
    She moved closer, too, meeting him halfway. “I couldn’t come here empty-handed.”
    â€œMe, neither. I have a thermos of coffee in the truck and some store-bought muffins. Do you want to join me for breakfast?”
    She tucked her hair behind her ears, and he noticed a set of diamonds studs. They looked good on her, even with a simple button-down blouse and cowgirl-cut jeans.
    â€œI’d love to have breakfast with you,” she said. “But do you realize that all we ever do when we’re together is eat?”
    â€œReally? Hmm.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Maybe we just need to keep our mouths busy.”
    She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, and he knew he’d struck a chord. She wanted to kiss him as badly as he wanted to kiss her. But they kept eating instead.
    â€œWhat kind of muffins?” she asked.
    â€œBlueberry,” he told her. Now she was moistening her lips, making a blast of arousal swirl in his gut.
    She untucked her hair, letting it fall against her cheeks once again. “Did you add cream and sugar to the coffee?”
    â€œNo, but I brought those little packets.” He made a goofy face, trying to temper the heat that was headed straight for his groin. “I always nab them from fast-food joints.”
    She laughed a little. “I guess it’s a bachelor thing.”
    â€œOr a cheap thing. I should probably break down and buy them.” He removed his hands from his pockets, concerned about calling attention to his zipper. “Are you ready to sample my coffee?”
    â€œIs it strong?”
    â€œAlways.”
    â€œThen I’m ready.”
    They walked outside together. Ethan barely noticed the scent of hay and horses. For him, it was as familiar as his own sweat at the end of a hard-earned day.
    He got the thermos and muffins out of his truck, setting up their breakfast on the bed of his vehicle.
    Seated next to Susan, he handed her a disposable cup, then poured her coffee and watched it steam in the morning air.
    She doctored her drink, making it sweet and light, stirring it with a plastic spoon he’d provided. He drank his black, using the thermos cup.
    She gave him an odd look. “Why do you take these packets if you don’t use them?”
    â€œFor company. For people who come to visit. Or for times like this.”
    She removed a muffin from the package and picked at the blueberries, nibbling like a bird. “I’m a morning person. I like to get up early and embrace the day.”
    â€œMe, too.” As crumbs dropped onto her lap, Ethan realized that he’d forgotten about napkins. But it didn’t matter. She seemed comfortable by his side, making him curious to know more about her. “Tell me about your job. Do you share your office with other psychologists?”
    She answered easily, quickly. “I don’t have a private practice. I run a national youth crisis hotline. We guide troubled teens, getting them the help they need.”
    Silent, he rubbed his hand across his jaw. It made perfect sense. A national hotline fit her: the girl she used to be and the woman she’d become. Yet he’d envisioned her in a high-rise building, treating rich kids whose parents were footing the bill.
    â€œIt’s difficult to take time off,” she said. “But my assistant is