Page 58 of Wrangled

“What do you mean?”

“Yesterday you acknowledged my relationship with Kevin for the first time. And today you want me to start noticingguys?”

Diana glanced at her watch. “Isn’t it lunchtime?”

“Is this you changing the subject, or inviting yourself to lunch?”

She chuckled. “I always said you were smart.”

“Come on up to the house. Matt’ll have something for us.”

She let out another sigh. “One of these days he’s going to walk into your kitchen and announce he’s met a wonderful girl, they’re engaged, and he’s going to work out his four weeks’ notice.Thenwhere will you be?”

“Hungry, and looking for a new housekeeper.” I put my arm around her and squeezed. “People move on. It’s part of life.”

We strolled up the path to the house, and she paused now and again to gaze at the ranch. “Looks smaller than it used to.”

“Youwere smaller back then. Remember the first time you wandered down the path on your own?”

She laughed. “No, but Dad used to talk about it. He said I’d wanted to go riding.”

“You were four years old.” We reached the house, and went inside.

“Matt, there’s an extra mouth for lunch,” I called out.

He stuck his head around the kitchen door. “I know. Teague called. It’s all ready for you in the dining room.”

“You are a treasure,” Diana gushed. “And someday you’re going to make someone a wonderful husband.”

His cheeks reddened. “Good to see you, Diana. How are you?”

“Doing just great. And after getting a look at one of the new guests, I’m thinking of leaving Newt and running away with him.”

Matt laughed. “Which one?”

“The gorgeous one from San Francisco. He’d put a spring in anyone’s step.”

He gave her a sympathetic glance. “Sorry, Diana. I think he’s spoken for.”

She pouted. “Pity.”

Matt met my gaze. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go feed the boys.”

I gave him a wave. “You go do that.” I led Diana into the dining room where a huge bowl of salad sat in the center of the table. Handfuls of lettuce, chunks of tomato, cucumber, and onion lay beneath pieces of chicken and Parmesan shavings, sprinkled with chopped walnuts and drizzled with a creamy dressing.

Diana pulled out a chair, then helped herself. “I think it’s time.” She took two hunks of bread from the basket next to the salad, then poured us both a glass of water.

“For what?”

“That you told me the truth.”

My chest tightened. “And what truth is that?”

Her eyes focused on mine. “Whatever it is you haven’t told me—or anyone else—about Kevin’s death.”

My stomach clenched. “You know all there is to know. He got drunk, he got on a horse, he went for a ride, he broke his fool neck. End of story.”

She leaned back in her chair, a piece of chicken speared on her fork. “If it was that simple, guilt wouldn’t be eating you alive.”

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