Page 8 of Killer on the Homestead
Both Audra and Franny whipped their gazes to her. “You did?”
Rosalie realized that even telling them he’d come to Fool’s Gold was a little too close to ruining the client privacy she worked very hard to keep. “Yep. Ran right into him on the street.”
“You talked to him?” Audra asked.
“Is he as hot in person as he is on the TV?” Franny demanded.
Rosalie grinned at Franny. “Hotter.”
“Impossible.”
Rosalie shook her head, kind of enjoying herself. “Swear it. His hair’s a little shaggy. He’s got a beard going on.”
“Not a beard.” Franny groaned and put a hand to her heart, making Audra and Rosalie laugh.
Conversation turned tootherhot guys with beards—locals and celebrities. Franny told them some about her newest book idea—with details she’d gotten from pumping Hart for detective stories. Once they were done eating, Rosalie took her chore of cleaning up the dishes while Audra packed up the leftovers.
“You were nice, weren’t you?” Audra asked.
Rosalie frowned at her sister, irritated she knew just what Audra was talking about. And tried not to feel guilty for kind of making it sound like Mr. Kirk might be his own problem. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I know you. The Kirks have been so good to us. I just want to make sure you remember that. Even if Duncan hasn’t been around, he’s a Kirk.”
“I’m not a total jerk, Audra.”
“That’s not what I’m saying,” Audra replied. But she didn’t sayof course you’re not a jerk, Rosalie.
Which probably shouldn’t grate as much as it did. And it only grated because shewaskind of a jerk. She liked to think she’d earned it, and it kept people from taking advantage of her, like they did with Audra when Rosalie wasn’t around to run interference.
But Audra, with her impeccable eldest-sister abilities, knew just how to twist an unintended knife.
Rosalie spent half the night looking into the Kirks’ cattle operation.
Chapter Three
Duncan spent the next few days getting settled into his new life. He bought a truck. Bought some new clothes more suited for life on the ranch. He unpacked one box, but that was depressing as hell, so he ignored the rest.
He ate dinner with his parents every night. He hadn’t been planning on that, but Mom seemed to expect it, and he couldn’t deny he was worried about his parents. It didn’t sound like any more cattle had disappeared, and he hadn’t heard from Rosalie at all.
But he’d thought about her. And not in an is-she-researching-missing-cattle kind of way. More like, is she single and is this too complicated?
He had a demanding life, or he’dhada demanding life, so he was very well versed in what he liked to callrisk managementwhen it came to women.
Rosalie was intertwined in his parents’ life. That one fact was reason enough to keep his thoughts to himself. But thoughts—and fantasies—never hurt anyone, did they?
When Dad said he was going back out to check the fences with a couple of his hands before sundown, Duncan offered to help Mom with the dishes even though it was usually Dad’s job.
If he cast back among all his memories of his parents, it was that simple after-dinner routine that made him feel the most centered, the most…home.Dad sitting on a stool at the sink,rinsing off dishes and putting them in the dishwasher while Mom put the leftovers away and cleaned up the cooking debris.
“I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything from Rosalie about the cattle?” she asked as he dutifully put plates in the dishwasher.
“She said she’d look into it.”
“It’s been days.”
“Maybe it takes days to look into stuff.” Though he supposed he could call her tomorrow. Test the waters.
Theinvestigationwaters. Nothing else. He tossed the detergent pod into the dishwasher and closed the door. When he turned to his mother, she was holding out a paper grocery bag.
