Indigo Lake

“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 ago I didn’t think I owned enough land to bury me on. I wouldn’t wish a husband who darts out the door every time there’s trouble in the air on any woman.”

Maria leaned on the counter and said, “Then you wouldn’t have any objection to marrying my sister since you’ve already slept with her and probably got her pregnant. In the interest of full disclosure, I might as well mention the fact that you’ve got plums on your land that might work for my business. I have to be thinking about what I’m getting out of this mating, you understand.”

Dakota fought down a scream. Maria and Mudman laughed as if they were old friends. Somehow, these two people who seemed to have nothing in common had become allies, and she felt a little left out. If Maria could see how close he looked to the villains Grandmother described, she might not talk to him, much less feed the guy.

“Now, Hamilton,” Maria said, pointing her spatula in his general direction. “I don’t want to be rude, but I can smell you from here. You’re welcome to use our shower if you like. I doubt the water works at your place, and from the odor about you, I’m guessing you’ve already tried bathing in the lake.”

“I’d like that very much. I’m afraid any hotel would take one look at me and put up the no-vacancy sign. But first, I’d like to borrow Dakota’s truck and go back to my place to get my only pair of clean clothes.” He stood. “I’ll finish this fine breakfast when I get back and help with the dishes.”

“We’d appreciate it, Hamilton,” Maria said. “You finish eating, but stay out of my kitchen. It’s off-limits. Understood?”

“Understood, General,” he answered.

Then without a word, he walked out the door.

Dakota gave up eating and decided she’d best finish dressing before Mudman returned. Hopefully, he’d get back before she had to be at work, but the last time he borrowed her truck for ten minutes he was gone half the night.

She thought of yelling at Maria for being so neighborly, but then again, Dakota had started it last night. Now she’d just have to put up with him for a few more minutes, and then hopefully they could go back to their quiet lives and forget a Hamilton lived across the lake.

Dakota quickly dressed in one of her three work outfits: milk-white blouse, dark blazer, modest A-line skirt made of the tartan plaid her grandfather wore to church every Sunday. He’d always said he wanted the Lord to know what clan he came from when he got to heaven.

She glanced in the mirror, realizing the outfit did little to flatter her. But for selling homes, she needed to look older than twenty-five. The clothes seemed to age her. She no longer felt like the baby of the Davis family. She’d had to take charge almost five years ago when her mother died and Maria was so badly hurt. At twenty she’d planned her mother’s funeral, watched over Grandmother, managed the farm, and slept each night beside Maria’s hospital bed. In a matter of days Dakota had aged into the head of the family.

As she combed her dark hair back and began to tie it up for the day, she listed everything she had to do. Sometimes when she felt like she was sleepwalking through her whole life, the list was all that kept her on the road. Pay the bills, fix the pickup, get Maria’s supplies, work at a job she hated, clean house, check on Grandmother, pay the bills, get Maria’s supplies. The list circled back around to the beginning, never ending in her mind.

Between Maria’s sale of jams and jellies and her occasional sale of a house or lot, they were getting by. Living on dreams and hopes. Having no idea what “someday” would look like.

Maybe if she ran fast enough, hard enough, long enough, maybe one day she would simply fly away. For an hour. For a day. Just one day of being free and then she’d come back to duty.

Only, as the years passed, she realized that might not happen. She’d simply age into the clothes if she didn’t keep fighting and learning and hoping.

As she stared into her bedroom mirror, she felt like she barely knew herself. She’d gone from being a kid just testing the world of college to being weighed down with responsibilities. She’d grow old and wrinkled without ever having lived if she wasn’t careful. She’d seen people who had done that and she understood them, but she swore she’d never be one. She had dreams and they’d come true even if she had to give up sleep every night.

When she walked back down the hallway from her room, the bathroom door was closed and she could hear the shower.

He was back. One more thing to worry about. Add that to her list.

She tried not to let thoughts of a nude man in their house concern her, but as soon as Dakota reached the kitchen, Maria whispered, “Did you open the door to see if he has tattoos?”

“No.” Dakota sat down at her now cold, still untouched, breakfast. “And before you start, nothing happened last night.”

Maria was busy wrapping tiny loaves of cinnamon bread. “I know that. I know you. But I can always hope. You haven’t had many dates lately. Maybe even a Hamilton would look good.”

Dakota almost said, Since the accident five years ago. Since the night Mom died and Maria lost her sight.

She’d never forget stepping out of Maria’s hospital room and looking around for her mother, needing her hug, even if she was twenty. That moment, reality hit her like a sledgehammer to the heart: she was alone. There would be no more hugs from Mom. Dakota had walked out of the hospital and sat in the dark parking lot, crying, for hours. Until no more tears came.

She’d never cried again. She worked to take care of Maria and keep things together. There was no time, no thought of dating.

Now, watching Maria, she remained silent. They talked about everything else, but not the accident. Not that day. Mom had flown over to Dallas to ride home with Maria for Christmas. The roads were bad. Maria had worked the late shift at her café and crawled into the back of the car to sleep. Mom was never good driving on snow.

Dakota should have been the one to go, but she’d wanted to relax at home after she got back from college. She’d fallen asleep before dark, before the ice storm moved across the plains.

The phone woke her hours later. The sheriff’s call. He’d been kind and honest, but she knew his call had changed her life forever.

She should have been in the car that day. She would have been the one driving. Maybe somehow she could have avoided the wreck on the icy highway. Then Mom would be alive, Maria would still be running her restaurant in Dallas, and she’d be... Dakota closed her eyes and let out a breath before she let her might have been settle in her thoughts.

She might be graduating from architecture school about now.

Maria broke into Dakota’s dark thoughts. “You need to get out on a date, little sister. Have some fun. Have an adventure. I’m fine here. I’ve got my work and my books. I’m happy.”

Dakota forced her tone to be light. “I’m happy too. And I’m doing fine. I slept with a biker last night, didn’t I? How much more excitement can I take?”

They both laughed as the bathroom door creaked open and steam filled the hallway. The man who stepped out was bare chested, with jeans riding low on his hips. He had a towel wrapped around his neck but his tanned chest and back sparkled with moisture. His hair was slicked back, reminding Dakota of a handsome pirate in one of Maria’s books.

“You mind if I finish dressing in the hallway?” he asked, staring straight at Dakota. “It’s so foggy in there I can’t see a thing.”

She couldn’t turn away, but managed to swallow a few times and whisper, “No tattoos.”

“Darn.” Maria looked disappointed. “I already had that picture in my mind. Since he hangs out around fires, do you see any scars?”

Dakota stared, not really knowing what to expect. She couldn’t have imagined a man who looked as good as the man standing before her. “Yes,” she whispered back, knowing that Blade could hear them. “No tattoos, but a few interesting scars.”

He didn’t react as he scrubbed his hair with the towel, then finger-combed it back into place with one deep plow. He pulled on a white T-shirt and then a collarless sweater of army green. “I left my boots on your porch. Got them covered in another layer of mud when I parked your pickup and jumped the stream to where my bike was. Luckily, last night I’d dropped my saddlebags on the porch when I looked at the house. My clothes and camera survived the night.”

When he looked up at her, Dakota forced her gaze down at her food.

He ignored her as he walked past her stool and took his place at the bar. “All right if I finish breakfast, Chef Maria? Then, if Dakota is still speaking to me, I thought I’d catch a ride into town.”

Another favor?

She nodded, trying to decide what she was so mad about. That he’d spent the night? That he’d hit it off with Maria and not her? That he was good-looking and obviously knew it?

Maybe Maria’s first suggestion was right. They should have killed him the minute they found out a Hamilton was alive. He might not look dangerous, but he looked good enough to drive her crazy.

“Sure, she’ll take you in.” Maria smiled. “I’ll put a few loaves of cinnamon bread in a bag for you. If you want any more breakfast, eat up quick because she’ll be flying out of here any minute. She may be the only one in her office, but she thinks she has to open on time.”

As Maria poured his coffee, he glanced at Dakota and asked, “How does she do that?”

“She’s holding the cup. She feels the weight and the warmth as the cup fills,” Dakota said. “And she’s blind, not deaf. If you want to know something, ask her.” Her words came out hard, cold.

“Sorry,” he said to Maria, ignoring Dakota again. “I’ve never been around anyone blind. You’re a great cook.”

“For a blind person?” Maria added.

“No. For anyone.” Blade might not have experience, but he was a quick learner. “This is the best breakfast I’ve had in years. Most of the time I’m traveling and it’s fast food at an airport or continental breakfast at the hotel.”

“You travel lots?” Dakota asked.