Ranch At River's End. Brenda Mott
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and go hiking and horseback riding with his great aunt and uncle in the mountains, happily helping them out in the stables?
“By the way,” Darci said. “I don’t want you mouthing off to Mrs. Hathaway anymore.”
“Why? She’s a nosy old bat.”
Darci struggled for control. “That may be. But she’s our neighbor, and if we’re ever going to fit into this town and have people accept us, we need to show them that we’re nice people who are above pettiness. So be polite to the old bat.” She looked at him from the corner of her eye and saw him trying not to smile. “All right?”
“Okay.” He pulled his iPod from his pocket.
“And it wouldn’t hurt to apologize, either.”
Chris paused, his earbuds halfway to his head. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Nope. Maybe you can take that big ol’ dog of hers a treat. A peace offering, say some leftovers from our barbecue tonight? I’ll wrap up some cobbler or potato salad or something for Mrs. Hathaway, as well.”
“How about a dose of arsenic. For her, not the dog.”
“Chris, that’s not funny.”
“Why not? Everyone thinks I’m a mass murderer anyway.”
“Don’t you think you’re blowing things out of proportion?”
“Mom, someone painted leave on our garage. Hell-o.”
“Well, you know they’re wrong about us, and I know they’re wrong. Now let’s show them.”
“Fine.”
They reached the house, and as soon as Darci pulled up in front, she spotted the paint can—and immediately noticed Jordan had already taken care of the garage door for her.
“How about that,” Chris smirked. “Guess I don’t have to paint the garage after all.”
Darci knew Jordan had meant well—still, his actions riled her, especially in her present mood. Didn’t he realize she’d wanted Chris to help?
“Go finish writing your report,” she said.
“Thrills-ville.” Chris strode to the house.
While it was nice of Jordan to loan her the supplies, Darci wished he’d simply left the stuff. And to make matters worse, he’d forgotten the can of paint he’d brought over. Now she’d have to face him when she was annoyed with him.
Or was she more annoyed with herself for finding him hot?
The imp in her head was back.
Darci picked up the gallon can and strolled down the walkway, her palms growing damp at the thought of seeing Jordan again, which only irritated her further.
Michaela answered when she rang the bell. She peered at Darci from behind the partially opened door, safety chain in place.
“Hi, sweetie. Is your dad here?”
“Just a minute.” Michaela closed the door in her face, and Darci heard the distinct sound of a dead bolt sliding into place.
What the heck?
She could understand safety precautions, especially having lived in the Denver area, but here in River’s End? Had things changed that much in recent years with the town’s growth? Or had Michaela not recognized her? No, she’d just seen Darci a short time ago.
The door opened again, this time without the safety chain, and Jordan stood framed in the entryway. “Hi there. What’s up?”
“You forgot your paint,” she said, holding out the can.
“No, I didn’t. I meant for you to keep it, in case you need it for further touch-ups.”
“Are you insinuating someone might graffiti my garage again?” Darci knew she was being crabby.
“I hope not,” Jordan said. “I only meant you might need it sometime down the road. Scrapes and dings, peeling paint…” He shrugged. “I don’t need it. Like I said, I got it for Mimi when she lived in your house.”
“Fine. Thank you.” Darci tried not to notice how good he looked in his boots and faded jeans. “However, I wish you hadn’t done the paint job for me. I’d intended to make Christopher do it as punishment.”
“Oh?” He looked curiously at her. “Sorry about that. I just wanted to help.”
Suddenly Darci felt contrite for being short with him. It hit her that he had no way of knowing that Christopher’s actions were behind the graffiti.
“Okay. Well, thanks again for the paint.” Darci could see Michaela hovering behind her father, listening to their every word. Remembering how the kid had bolted the door so abruptly, Darci wanted to put the little girl at ease.
“How are you, Michaela? You know, you don’t have to lock the door next time I come over,” she teased. “I’m not planning to rob you of your silverware or anything.”
Michaela gasped loud enough for Darci to hear. Then she covered her mouth and turned to hurry up the stairs with her cane, clinging to the railing for support.
“Mac!” Jordan called, turning to watch his daughter. When he faced Darci again, his dark eyes were filled with a mixture of sadness and irritation.
What had she said?
“I—I’m sorry.” Darci was truly perplexed. “I didn’t mean to upset her. It’s just that she closed and chained the door while she went to get you.” She shrugged. “This neighborhood’s pretty safe, isn’t it? River’s End isn’t exactly the center of crime.”
Jordan’s features tensed. “It’s not as safe as you think,” he said. “See you later, Darci.” With that, he closed the door.
Darci stood there, her mouth literally hanging open.
She wasn’t sure what rattled her more. The fact that she’d somehow upset Michaela, or that Jordan had practically slammed the door in her face. What had she said?
Darci plunked the can of paint down on the porch, turned and headed home.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE LINGERING AROMA of barbecue smoke drifted pleasantly around the patio as Darci sat with Stella at a small folding table, enjoying one last hamburger. At the back of the garage, her uncle Leon shot hoops with Chris, having coaxed the boy into a game of horse after Christopher had wolfed down two hamburgers and three hot dogs.
“You’ve got paint on your nose,” Stella said. “Right there.” She indicated the bridge of Darci’s nose. “What were you painting?”
Darci used a paper napkin to wipe the spot away. It must have gotten there when she put away the paint. “The garage door.” She sighed. She hadn’t wanted to bring up the incident in front of Chris. She’d hoped to enjoy the barbecue and forget that someone didn’t want them here in River’s End. “Somebody sprayed graffiti on it.”
“Taggers?” Stella asked. “In River’s End?” She shook her head. “What’s this world coming to?”
“Not taggers,” Darci said. “Someone painted leave on my garage in big, red letters. Why would they do that, unless they know what Christopher did. And how could they? His name was never on the news.”
Stella squirmed uncomfortably. “Well—um—I might’ve said something about what happened.”
Darci’s jaw dropped. “Who did you tell?”
“Just Lucy Long, down at Trail’s Inn Pizza.”
“Oh, Aunt Stella. You know Lucy talks to Suzanne.” The owner of the local beauty shop was a renowned gossip. “And if you tell Suzanne, you might as well broadcast it over