Page 30 of Eclipse Bay

“So what? It’s true.” She stood back to allow Winston to trot across the porch and down the steps. The dog paused briefly to thrust his nose into Rafe’s hand, and then he disappeared discreetly into some bushes.

Hannah reached around the edge of the door and flipped a light switch. “I’m probably going to kick myself for getting involved, but I feel compelled to ask. Did things go okay between you and your grandfather out there in the garden?”

“Sure.” Rafe glided, uninvited, through the opening into the front hall.

“I see.” She was not quite certain what to do with him now that he was inside her house.

She held the door open for Winston. He pranced across the porch and into the hall. He headed straight for Rafe.

Hannah closed the door and leaned back against it. Rafe crouched to scratch the dog’s ears. Winston promptly sat down and assumed a blissful expression.

“There was the usual stuff,” Rafe said after a moment.

“The usual stuff?”

Rafe kept his attention on Winston, who was clearly ready, willing, and able to absorb an unlimited amount of it. “Mitchell reminded me that it wasn’t too late to join Madison Commercial.”

“Ah, yes. The usual.” She straightened away from the door and walked into the kitchen. When in doubt, make a cup of tea. “And you gave him the usual response, no doubt.”

“Well, sure. That’s how Mitchell and I communicate. He tells me what I should do, and I tell him I won’t do it. We understand each other perfectly.”

“Aunt Isabel always said that you and your grandfather had problems from the day you hit puberty because the two of you were so much alike.” She filled the kettle and set it on the stove.

“I’ve heard that theory before.” Rafe gave Winston one last pat, got to his feet, and came to stand in the arched doorway. He propped one shoulder against the frame and crossed his arms. “Neither Mitchell nor I believes it.”

She was intensely aware of him taking up space in the kitchen. She could feel his disturbing gaze following her every move as she went about the business of preparing a pot of tea.

“It’s true, you know,” she said gently. “You’re both strong-willed, arrogant, independent, and downright bullheaded at times. The two of you probably have the same motto.”

“What’s that?”

“Never apologize, never explain.”

He contrived to look hurt. “Had it occurred to you that I might have something in common with your dog?”

“Such as?”

He smiled humorlessly. “I might actually believe you when you tell me what you really think about me.”

She raised her brows at that. “I can’t see you giving much credence to anyone else’s opinions.”

“Shows how much you know. I’m only human.”

“Got proof of that?”

“Okay, I’ll accept strong-willed, arrogant, and independent.” He gave her a derisive look. “But I object to the last part. What makes you say I’m bullheaded?”

She smiled with cool triumph. “Your refusal to talk about how we’re going to deal with the problem of Dreamscape.”

“Huh. That.”

“Yes, that.”

He raised one shoulder very casually. “Well, hell, nobody’s perfect.”

“Except Winston, of course,” she added swiftly, in case Winston had overhead the remark and had started to worry.

There was a short silence.

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