Indigo Lake. Jodi Thomas
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were no pictures of Hamilton wives at the museum.
Dakota stared at the man beside her. His being cold-blooded and mean didn’t seem out of the question, but he hadn’t killed her, so she might give him the benefit of the doubt. Her mother told her once that Grandmother’s stories grew darker every year, and longer than bindweed on a fence post.
As carefully as she could, Dakota moved away, covering him with the blanket she’d been wrapped in all night. Picking up Sam, she silently left the barn. Maybe it would be better to let sleeping dogs lie. There was no telling what kind of mood he’d wake up in.
“Some guard cat you are,” she whispered as she scratched Sam’s head.
The old cat didn’t even have the sense to look guilty.
When she stepped in the shadowy kitchen, she wasn’t surprised to hear Maria making breakfast. Routine was Maria’s clock. She lived by it and so did Dakota. The reason she always had to be home before dark was Maria’s clock. The same time to do meals, to deliver her products to the grocery, to go to church, were her sister’s way of keeping in balance in her world of forever midnight.
“Morning,” Dakota managed as she walked past the kitchen on her way to the bathroom. “I fell asleep in the barn again.”
Maria held out a cup of coffee. “I figured that. I’ll have breakfast ready by the time you finish showering.”
Dakota stopped as she took the cup. “Better cook extra. That Hamilton who borrowed my truck is asleep in the barn.”
“Shichu will not like that.” Maria giggled as if she were three and not thirty-three. “Lucky she didn’t show up last night. The rain must have kept her from her normal wandering around the place.”
“We’re not telling Grandmother. I swear, she gets more Apache every year. She may have been born mixed, but the Irish seems to be bleeding out. The other day she came over wrapped in a blanket and wearing Grandpa’s old floppy hat. She’s starting to look like the short, squatty ghost of Sitting Bull. She’s also going back in time as she ages. I don’t think she knows what decade it is.”
“Probably not, but her senses are keen. She found a bushel of wild plums last week.” Maria raised her flour-covered palm as if swearing an oath. “And the old girl can probably smell a Hamilton. So tell me, did he just drop by to kill us in our sleep and decide to nap first?” Maria’s tone told Dakota that her sister thought the whole thing was a joke.
Dakota gulped down one swallow of hot coffee and came full awake. “I think he brought the truck back and decided to wait out the rain. He probably just fell asleep. Don’t let him frighten you when he comes to the door. I have a feeling when he wakes he’ll drop by to tell us he’s leaving.” She shrugged. “If he smells breakfast, we’ll probably have to feed him.”
“He won’t startle me. I’m sure I’ll hear him coming.” Maria lifted her butcher knife. “I’ll meet him at the door armed and ready. Or—” she set the knife down “—I’ll do the neighborly thing and invite him in for breakfast. Killing someone with a full stomach seems the right thing to do, and no man could possibly turn down my blueberry pancakes.”
Dakota shook her head. Maria’s life might be dull and ordinary, but in her mind she lived the great adventures she listened to in her books.
When they’d been kids, Maria often elaborated on Grandmother’s stories. She made the Hamiltons monsters with the smell of death on their breath. Or zombies who never stopped coming, no matter how many bullets hit their chests. Or aliens with nine long fingers on each hand, perfect for choking someone.
Now they laughed about the nightmares they’d had as children because of Maria’s imagination. Dakota smiled as she grabbed her robe and stepped into the tiny bathroom. She doubted any of the stories Grandmother or Maria told were based on an ounce of truth, but she’d count Blade Hamilton’s fingers the next time she saw him, just to be safe.
Twenty minutes later when Dakota walked back into the kitchen, tying a towel around her head, she could smell cinnamon bread in the oven and hear Maria’s laughter.
Maria wasn’t alone.
Blade, looking like a mud truck had run over him, was sitting at the counter drinking coffee and smiling at Maria.
“Have a seat, little sister. Breakfast is about to be served.” Maria waved her spatula toward Blade. “Mr. Hamilton will be joining us. I decided to let him live after he told me that he slept with you last night.”
Blade silently raised his hands in surrender, but Dakota didn’t miss the way his gray eyes moved down the thin robe now clinging to her wet skin.
“I was just planning on resting a few minutes before walking back to my land.” He held up two fingers. “Scout’s honor.”
“You were a Boy Scout?” she snapped. “You’re probably lying.”
“Elf, I’ve been a Boy Scout all my life.”
“Don’t call me Elf.” She could feel deep anger climbing up her entire body.
“Don’t call me a liar, Dakota.” He said her name slowly.
Dakota frowned at him, fighting the urge to yell Go away. He must have hypnotized Maria, because she barely talked to the mailman, much less a stranger.
Maria carefully served her pancakes. “So, did you sleep with him, little sister?”
“I woke up and he was there.” Dakota knew Maria was already thinking up something romantic in her mind. Biker guy falls in love with pickup girl at first sight, in the dark, in the rain, covered in mud.
Dakota figured she’d be teased about this for months. She might as well play along. “I guess I’m guilty. I did sleep with him.”
“Well, we’ll keep him alive until we find out if you’re pregnant.” Maria reached for the coffeepot. “Do you have a job, Hamilton? We’ll need the child support.”
Dakota gave Blade her best go-to-hell look. He’d started this and he didn’t even try to look innocent.
He grinned as if she were teasing him. “I’ve got a job. After the army, I was hired as a special agent for the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives.”
“Which one are you?” Maria asked, as if she thought he’d given her a multiple-choice question.
“Forest fires mostly. Occasionally explosives. We’re federal, so we go where needed. I parachuted in the army, so now and then, while the burn is still hot, I’ll go in and try to find where it started.
“But about the kid you might be carrying, Miss Maria—” he winked at Dakota as he changed the subject back to sleeping in the barn “—if I’m going to have to pay child support, I want to name the baby. If it’s a boy, of course. I don’t much care what you name her if it’s a girl. Girls don’t seem to stay around the Hamilton place.”
Both sisters let out a yelp, then laughed a moment later when they realized he was kidding.
Maria smiled and Dakota saw that her sister wasn’t afraid or shy around this man. Maybe she was comfortable in her own kitchen, or maybe she was simply playing a game from one of her romance novels. It really didn’t matter. Maria was happy and not just pretending to be.
“Tell me,” Maria said. “Are you tolerably handsome, Hamilton?”
Blade laughed. “I’m afraid not. My own mother couldn’t love me.” He shoveled food into his mouth as if he’d been starving.
“Then you’re not married?” Maria finally asked when his plate was almost empty.
“Nope.” Blade had the gall to wink at Dakota again, letting her know that he was enjoying the game as much as Maria was. “Women tend to run in the opposite direction. Men wearing badges don’t make that much money unless they carry life insurance, and until a few days