Big Sky Country

Taking a sidelong glance at Hutch’s ruggedly handsome face as they walked, Joslyn was surprised to see that he looked solemn. He was gazing in the direction Jasper had gone, and his mouth had hardened a little.

The grin was definitely a thing of the past.

He shoved a hand through his dishwater-blond hair and came back to himself, as if from some vast distance, just as they reached the gate between Kendra’s property and the rental beyond.

Hutch opened the tall wooden gate with a jerk that made the partially rusted hinges squeal in protest and shouldered his way through.

Joslyn was right behind him. She felt responsible for Jasper—after all, he’d made his great escape on her watch.

Plus, she was curious.

In the old days, the gate had opened onto a vacant lot where she and the other kids in the neighborhood used to play softball. It hadn’t occurred to her to wonder who lived there now that there was a house of sorts.

The sight of Slade Barlow standing on the little patio brought her up short.

So did the silent static immediately arcing between him and Hutch.

Jasper sat next to Slade, a little behind him, panting from the heat and recent exertion, calmly watchful.

“I thought this dog looked familiar,” Slade said quietly, his arms folded as he regarded his father’s son. Everyone knew that Slade and Hutch were half brothers, but it was a subject people whispered about—no one discussed it openly, as far as Joslyn knew.

“I’m here to take Jasper home,” Hutch replied. Every muscle in his back and shoulders seemed tight, from Joslyn’s perspective. He dropped his gaze to the dog, gave a low whistle. “Come on, fella.” He beckoned. “Let’s get going.”

Jasper thumped his tail against the ground a couple of times, but he didn’t move from Slade’s side.

“I’m not sure he’s ready to leave quite yet,” Slade observed. His gaze moved to Joslyn, and he gave a slight nod to acknowledge her presence, his mouth quirking up ever so slightly at one corner, as though something about her amused him.

That got under her skin.

“He belonged to Hutch’s father,” she said helpfully, and immediately wished she’d kept her mouth shut. There was a lot going on here, and it wasn’t entirely about the wall-leaping stray.

“I remember seeing him riding shotgun in Carmody’s truck,” Slade allowed.

Jasper still didn’t move. Neither did Hutch.

Slade made a clicking sound and started in Hutch’s direction, clearly hoping the dog would follow. Jasper stayed put.

Short of picking the animal up bodily and lugging him back through the gate to his pickup, Hutch seemed to be out of options.

“I’ll be damned,” he muttered.

Slade shrugged one powerful shoulder, and Joslyn found herself wondering, incomprehensibly, what he’d look like without a shirt.

To break the spell, she leaned down and patted her palms against her blue-jeaned thighs, summoning Jasper.

“Time to go home,” she cajoled cheerfully.

Jasper merely gazed at her, switched his tail again, just once, and held his ground.

“Suppose I bring Jasper out to the ranch later on,” Slade suggested easily. It was obvious that he was enjoying this little standoff, and that annoyed Joslyn—not that he would have cared whether she was annoyed or not. He was looking directly at Hutch, not at her; she might have been transparent. “I’d like to take a look around anyhow.”

Beside Joslyn, Hutch stiffened slightly. “That figures,” he said, and though he spoke mildly, the remark had a sharp point to it.

Slade didn’t flinch. If anything, he seemed intrigued by the situation, charged though it was.

The scene reminded Joslyn of the famous gunfight at the OK Corral down in Tombstone. Except that nobody was armed.

Thank heaven.

“I’ll bring the dog out to Whisper Creek in a little while,” Slade reiterated.

Hutch didn’t reply. He just nodded once, abruptly, and turned and headed toward the gate in the ugly wall. Maybe he hoped Jasper would follow, but that didn’t happen.

Jasper had evidently made up his mind to stay.

Joslyn looked in Hutch’s direction, then back at Slade.

Hutch might have gone, but the strange charge lingered in the air, a silent rumble like the prelude to a summer thunderstorm.

Slade lifted his eyes to the mansion behind Joslyn, and something flickered in their too-blue depths. “Are we neighbors?” he asked, his tone idle.

Joslyn felt her cheeks turn warm. “It would seem so,” she said. “I’m renting Kendra’s guesthouse.”

“Ah,” Slade said, as though her response explained a lot. Global warming, say, and strife in North Africa.

She didn’t want to leave without the dog. It was the principle of the thing. So she tried one more time.

“Jasper?” she said, with just the faintest note of pleading in her voice.

Jasper cocked his head to one side, looking apologetic but remaining where he was. It was almost as though the dog had been searching high and low for none other than Slade Barlow and, now that he’d found him, it was trail’s end.

He was home free.

Wondering why she felt so rattled—there was a thrumming inside her that was both unnerving and singularly pleasant—Joslyn offered Slade a faltering smile. “Well, I have company, so I guess I’ll go....”

“See you,” Slade said.

She turned and hurried through the gate, leaving it open just in case Jasper changed his mind.

Fat chance of that happening.

Doubling back through the flower beds and the rose garden, Joslyn saw that Kendra was just pulling up in her sporty blue convertible, a shiny BMW. Hutch, probably exasperated over being rejected by his father’s dog, especially in favor of Slade Barlow, stood near his truck.

Kendra got out of the BMW, hauling her gigantic purse with her.

Wine bottles clinked together inside.

“Hello, Hutch,” she said, sounding shy.