nephew, Zach, in the other. Her older nephew, Ryan, was following behind them.
The boys were looking a little scared.
She glanced up at the sheriff. “There’s no need to talk about arresting me in front of my nephews. They don’t need to be any more upset than they are.”
The sheriff snorted. “The only reason they might be upset is that they think I’m going to stop you from giving them their quarters. That’s what they wanted to know about. Besides I wouldn’t talk about arresting anyone in front of their kids if I could help it. Or even just holding them for questioning, either.”
“Well,” Katrina said with a nod. “I appreciate that.”
“I’m not the bad guy,” the sheriff added. But he still held his hand out for her purse when Charley brought it in the office.
“I can open my own purse,” she said.
“Got to check it out for—you know,” he said with a meaningful look at her nephews.
Which, of course, stopped her protest. She didn’t want him getting specific.
Instead, she smiled at the boys. “Everything’s all right.”
Both boys were still frowning.
“Of course it is,” Conrad added with enough confidence that the boys relaxed.
The sky was spitting rain by the time Conrad grabbed his jacket and got everyone ready to go over to the café. Uncle Charley had already gone ahead and the sheriff was sitting outside in his car filling out paperwork. The lawman hadn’t gotten an answer when he called the number on the back of that receipt. Conrad figured the man couldn’t finish his report until he at least talked to Leanne and Walker, though.
Conrad put the Closed sign on his door.
“What if someone needs you?” Katrina asked when she saw what he’d done. “You can’t just close your business in the middle of the day. You’re the only gas station here.”
He shrugged. “The pumps work with a credit card. And everyone knows to look for me at the café if they really need help and I’m not around here.”
Katrina shook her head. “This isn’t how it’s done in Los Angeles.”
“I expect not,” Conrad agreed as he opened the door. So that’s where she lived.
Conrad took a deep breath when he stepped outside. The air smelled of damp earth and the sky was dark gray. There’d be no more sunshine today. He had only one umbrella so he turned and gave that to Katrina. Little boys never minded rain.
“My mom says we can’t walk in the mud unless she says it is okay,” Ryan announced after he stepped out the door. The tin roof of Conrad’s shop covered the concrete slab around the gas pumps, too, but the area beyond that was getting wet.
“Walk on the road,” Conrad said. Katrina and the youngest boy had come out behind Ryan and waited on the slab. “There’s no mud on the asphalt.”
“Maybe we could go off the road a little,” Ryan suggested hopefully as he stepped to the edge of the pavement. “I can carry my shoes so they won’t get dirty. I see a worm out there.”
Katrina turned around. “You don’t want to get the floor of the café all muddy when we go to breakfast.”
Conrad laughed. What boy that age was worried about a floor? “That worm is long gone. Besides, you’ll have to keep your feet and your shoes clean if you want your aunt to take your picture. Your clothes, too.”
“Oh,” Ryan said with a nod. “I guess so.”
Conrad kept his hand on the boy’s shoulder as he led the way to the café. “People don’t really take that many pictures around here. We’re too close to the Black Hills, I guess. They get more striking pictures there.”
“Are we going there, Aunt Kat-rr—” Ryan gave up on the name and just looked up at her. The boy seemed anxious and Conrad watched him carefully as he continued. “You’re still going to take our pictures, aren’t you?”
Conrad relaxed. The boy just wanted his quarters. He was greedy, not afraid.
“I hope so, sweetie,” Katrina said softly as she guided Zach down the street.
She held the umbrella over her head, but the rain slanted in sideways and Conrad could see that her hair was getting damp. He hoped her black jacket didn’t get too wet. Her jeans would survive a soaking, but the leather looked imported. She had probably gotten it at Rodeo Drive down in Beverly Hills. He was getting ready to caution her to be careful of the rain, when she stepped over a crack in the asphalt in her high heels and he forgot all about the weather.
He almost had to stop and catch his breath again. The sight of those black patent leather straps wrapped around her delicate ankles made him think of the grand Hollywood movie stars of old like Marilyn Monroe. Those shoes of Katrina’s were all steam and sizzle. He hoped that none of the ranch hands from the Elkton place were at the café. They’d see those shoes as an invitation to flirt shamelessly. She even had her toenails painted a deep red. He’d never seen feet look so pretty in the rain.
“I have some boots you can borrow,” he said.
Katrina turned around, a stricken expression on her face. “You’re right. I can’t go to pri—” she stopped herself. “I couldn’t go with the sheriff in my high heels. I meant to put tennis shoes in the trunk, but they’re in my car—not my sister’s.”
“They’re nice shoes,” Conrad felt obliged to say. He wasn’t the kind of man to be taken in by nice footwear, however. He hoped that, if there were any ranch hands at the café, they didn’t decide to help her get out of town before the sheriff got all his information. Some of them would do that for a woman wearing shoes like that.
They finished walking down the road together.
“Nice place,” Katrina said as they started walking up the steps to the café porch. There was an overhang so rain wasn’t hitting them where they stood. Katrina lowered her umbrella and shook it out. Ryan was already up to the door and Zach was holding on to Katrina’s leg.
“I’ll carry the umbrella in for you,” Conrad said, but all he did was stand there looking at her. He told himself he was making sure no one could tell she was suspected of a crime before they went inside. He didn’t know what clues he was looking for, though.
Strands of Katrina’s hair were wet and hanging down. She was no longer as perfect as she had been when she drove into his gas station and he liked her better for it. Drops of rain glistened on her cheeks. Her eyes were warm and a little shy.
If this were one of those old Hollywood movies, Conrad decided he would be saying something romantic about now. He tried to make the notion go away, but it lingered in his mind. It was just that all of the talk lately about him getting married was stirring around in his mind. He needed to put it to rest. She certainly wasn’t the kind of woman he intended to become involved with. He already knew she was trouble. She cried. She liked old bent-up signs. She shouted to make herself heard by an old man she thought was deaf. She drank cold coffee. He wanted to like his wife, not love her. He’d learned how much love could hurt when his mother died. Katrina was just too intense for him.
And she had rain dripping down her cheeks. He reached out and wiped a drop away.
“It’s not another tear,” she said. “I was just caught by surprise earlier. I’m really not that much of a crybaby.”
Another raindrop slid down her cheek and he caught that one, too. Her skin was cool and smooth like polished marble. “You had cause.”
She seemed surprised at that. He winced. He had no business saying something like that. He needed to bury his emotions. For all he knew, she could be lying about her sister—and the car. She might not be striving to be a photographer or a good aunt. She might even have known