sometimes.”
He smiled. “I don’t mind. I’m pretty blunt myself from time to time. It sort of goes with the job description.”
“And which one would that be?” she teased. “Breaking horses or working on a new unified field theory?”
He laughed. “Both, I suppose.” He rocked the swing into motion and looked straight ahead. “The feds noticed that I had a gift for algorithms, so they send a black sedan to pick me up in the summer and take me off to D.C.”
“Wow,” she said softly. “What do you do there?”
He sighed. “It’s all classified. Very top secret. I do code work. I’m not allowed to talk about it.”
She winced. “I put my foot in my mouth again.”
“Not at all. You didn’t know.” His dark eyes slid over her face intently. “Your major was what, English or education?”
“I did a double major,” she said. “Both.”
“What about your minor?”
She hesitated.
His thick black eyebrows lifted and he smiled. “Hmmm?”
She cleared her throat. “Anthropology. Specifically, archaeology. I went on digs for four years.” She gave him an apologetic glance. “I know, your people think of archaeology as grave digging. . . .”
“I don’t,” he said. “I minored in anthropology, too, as well as biology,” he said surprisingly. “I loved being able to date projectile points and pottery sherds. It was fascinating. You forget, I’m not all Crow. My mother was born on the reservation, near Hardin, Montana. But my father was white.” His face closed up at the memory.
She never touched people. But her small hand went to his shoulder and rested there, lightly, feeling the taut muscles. “We all have bad memories.”
His head turned. “I’ll bet you don’t.”
“Well, my parents loved each other, they said, but they still had knock-down, drag-out fights every so often,” she said. “I learned to hide in the stable until they calmed down.”
He chuckled. “I never had to do that. But my father wasn’t much of a father.”
“Was he a teacher?”
He shook his head. “An astrophysicist,” he said with distaste. “He still works in the aerospace industry. NASA, I think. I haven’t had any contact with him since.”
“I’ll bet he’d be proud of the man you became,” she said, and then flushed, because it was a little forward.
He looked down at her and frowned. “You think so?” he asked, surprising her.
“You’re kind to strangers, you love children, you break horses without harming their spirit, you know about Schrodinger’s cat. . . .”
He chuckled. “You’re good for my ego. You know that?” he teased. “I guess a lot of us are prey to low self-image, especially people of color.”
“You’re a nice color,” she said warmly. “Light olive skin. I’m just pink. I can’t even tan.”
He studied her fair hair, long around her shoulders, and her pretty, pink face. He smiled slowly, a smile that made her toes curl inside her shoes. “You’re a nice color, too,” he said huskily. His fingers went to her hair and touched it softly. “Your hair is naturally this color, isn’t it?” he asked.
“Yes.” Was that high, squeaky tone her actual voice? She was surprised at the way it sounded. “Well, I do use a highlighting shampoo, but I don’t color it.”
“It’s beautiful.”
Her breath was coming like a distance runner’s. Her eyes fell on his mouth. It was chiseled, with a thin upper lip and a full square lower one. It was a mouth that made her hungry for things she barely remembered. Her late husband had been gone so much that intimacy had gone by the wayside, for the most part. At the end, they were more friends than lovers. And she couldn’t remember ever feeling such hunger, even for him. Perhaps it was her age, or that she’d been alone too long. She felt guilty, too, just for entertaining the thought that Parker would be heaven to kiss.
He was staring at her mouth, too. His fingers tightened on her hair. “This would be,” he whispered, “a very bad idea.”
“Oh, yes,” she whispered back, shakily. “A very, very bad idea.”
But even as they spoke, they were bending toward each other. Her head tilted naturally to the side, inviting his mouth closer.
“I might become addicted,” he whispered a little unsteadily.
“Me, too . . .”
He leaned closer, his big hand clutching her hair, positioning her face. His head bent. She could almost taste the coffee on his mouth. She was hungry. So hungry!
“Katy,” he breathed, and his lips started to touch hers.
“Mom? Parker? Where are you guys?”
They broke apart, both flushed and uneasy. Parker got to his feet and moved away from Katy without looking at her.
“We’re out here, sprout!” he called. “Ready to go?”
Teddie came barreling out the front door, dressed to ride. “Yes! I’m so excited!”
“We’ll take it slow and easy the first time,” he told her, grinning, although he was churning inside about what had almost happened. He managed to get himself together in the small space of time he had while Teddie rushed toward the stable.
He turned and looked at Katy, who was standing up, looking all at sea and guilty.
He went back to her, towering over her. “It’s okay,” he said softly.
She swallowed. “I’m . . . I mean . . . I think . . .” She looked up at him with her face taut with indecision, hunger, fear, guilt.
He touched her cheek gently. “We’ll take it slow and easy, Katy,” he said huskily. “No pressure. Okay?”
She took a deep breath. “Okay,” she agreed, and her eyes grew soft.
He smiled in a way he never had. “Suppose I pick you and Teddie up on Halloween night and drive you around to the venues for candy?”
She hesitated just a second too long.
His face tautened. “Or is that a bad idea? You’d rather not be seen with me in public . . . ?”
She went right up to him and reached up to touch his hard cheek. “You know me better than that already. I know you do!”
He let out the breath he’d been holding. “Sorry,” he bit off. “Life is hard sometimes when you’re a minority.”
“I’ve never been like that,” she said. “I’d be proud to be seen with you anywhere. I was just worried about, well, gossip. Small towns run on it. You might not like being talked about. . . .”
He actually laughed. “I’ve been talked about for years. I don’t mind gossip. If you don’t.” He hesitated. “That lawyer’s coming out here next month, isn’t he?”
“He’s a pest,” she said shortly. “He invited himself and I can’t convince him that I’m not interested.”
“No worries, kid,” he teased. “I’ll convince him for you.”
She smiled slowly. “Okay,” she said.
He chuckled. “I’d better go help Teddie saddle Bartholomew before she ends up in a pile of something nasty.”
She smiled from ear to ear. “She’ll love riding. Until she gets off the horse,” she added, because she