Shelter Me by Catherine Mann

touching. It was just feet, for crying out loud. They weren’t naked. She wore sandals so broken in she’d taped the toe thong, and his boat shoes had a frayed shoelace retied together. But somehow being this close still felt . . . intimate. She could stretch her leg just an inch and run her toes along his bared ankle.
    A year ago, she would have. Then he would have extended an arm. She would have linked hands with him and he would have tugged her against his chest for a kiss so long and sweet she’d see stars. The steam they’d generated had left her breathless every time they got close.
    An effect she was still feeling even now . . . long after that breakup.
    There’d been so much good between them, a chemistry and something else, something worth pursuing. Until he’d decided they couldn’t be together because he wasn’t good enough for her and it would be disloyal to her father.
    His excuses sounded thin to her then and now. There had to be more. Or Mike simply didn’t want to be with her any longer and thought too much of her dad to simply dump her. So he’d given her a made-up excuse.
    Now wasn’t that a sobering thought? She cleared her throat and straightened, which took her feet away from temptation. “Thank you again for bringing Trooper. I’m hungry and need a shower . . . So . . .”
    “Right.” He nodded, shoving away and starting down the steps backward. “I should go now that I’ve delivered your dog—twice.”
    She knew his leaving was inevitable and it was silly to expect anything different. Must be exhaustion making her weak. She spun away and—slammed straight into her grandfather standing in the open doorway. How long had he been there and how had she not noticed?
    Gramps clapped her on the back once before stepping around toward Mike.
    “Hello, boy.” Joshua’s avoidance of using a name was always clue number one he didn’t know the person even though he should. “Stay for lunch.”
    At least he knew what time it was. She shot an apologetic smile at Mike.
    “Thanks, sir. That’s a generous offer.” He paused half in, half out of his truck. “But you don’t need to feed me. I’m done returning your dog, so I’ll just be on my way.”
    “There’s plenty of chili, and I know that because I made it myself while the women were gone.”
    The women? Apparently Gramps was in his un-PC mode right now.
    The General continued, “They don’t like for me to cook—afraid I’ll burn the house down. So we compromise and I use the Crock-Pot.”
    There were child locks all over the kitchen and stove, as well as notes. Gramps could still read. For now.
    “I do love good chili, General.” Mike stepped around the front of the truck, nearly giving her a heart attack with the notion he might stick around. “But I’ll have to take a rain check.”
    The gleam in Mike’s eyes shouted loud and clear he knew exactly how his words were affecting her. She ground her teeth. So he wanted to play games, did he? “By all means, stay for lunch, Mike, if that’s what you would like.”
    “Thanks, but—”
    “Boy.” Gramps yanked the door open further and pointed inside. “Come on. I know full well home-cooked food is a treat after being overseas.”
    Or maybe her grandfather was having a good day. Sometimes she wondered if he liked to mess with their minds by pretending it was a bad day. Ornery old cuss. She almost grinned. Almost.
    Time for everyone to stop playing games.
    “Gramps, Mike probably has things to do. We’ve already take enough of his time with him coming all the way out here to return Trooper.”
    Gramps snorted. “Doesn’t look like Trooper plans to stay with us.”
    What the hell?
    She looked around her and the dog was gone again. She started to panic, then—there was Trooper—sitting in the front seat of the truck.
    Gramps threw his shoulders back and barked, “Stay for lunch. We’re eating out back at the picnic table. That’s an order.”
    Mike looked at