eight

Jessie soaked in the Jacuzzi bath for an hour. It was a truly glorious luxury, especially now, and she thought she could stay there forever. She certainly didn’t want to expend the effort to get out.

Her body was all shades of gray and purple and red. Her wrist was wrapped in a tight elastic bandage. That was on the outside. She winced when thinking about the inside.

Every bone, every ligament, every muscle in her body hurt.

So did her pride.

She recalled every ignominious moment of her return to the ranch house …

The entire Clements clan had gathered outside. Sarah had taken over and hovered over her like a mother hen, seeing to each of the open wounds, using a pair of tweezers to extract thorns.

Ross had looked at her wrist again. “You should have it x-rayed,” he said. “I’ll drive you to the hospital.”

She hadn’t wanted that. She knew he must be concerned about Carefree, and probably the last thing he wanted to do was nurse a minor injury of a careless rider. “Go see about Carefree,” she’d pleaded.

It had finally been decided that Cullen and Sarah would take her to the hospital. April, full of apologies, had decided to go along.

Jessie had been reluctant, but she’d realized they were not going to let her go without having the arm checked first. She’d felt swept away by a tide of concern. It was a strange, unsettling feeling. She’d always taken care of herself before.

An hour later, an emergency doctor at a small hospital confirmed what she knew. Nothing was broken. Not even a bad sprain. Wrap it with a tight bandage and she would be as good as new in a few days.

She’d apologized profusely for putting everyone to so much trouble. Part of her had appreciated the worry and concern and cosseting. Another part merely wanted to crawl into a hole and nurse her wounds by herself …

She sank deeper into the tub with its jets. Alex had heard about the accident and showed up at the hospital. He’d glared at April, then uttered his own apologies for having left her. Jessie felt she was drowning in recriminations—and self-recrimination.

Sarah had wanted her to return to the ranch, to stay there at least one night, but Jessie had wanted to come back to the peace of her room. She’d wanted to think, to sort out all the feelings that had lodged themselves in her mind. So many.

She ran a soapy washcloth over her face, then gingerly over her body. She remembered the strength of Ross’s arms, even the comfort she felt in them. But she also remembered the humiliation of being so incredibly stupid. How could she have lost April?

For only a split second, she considered the possibility that perhaps April …

But no. There was no reason. Could be none. She was making up villains because she wasn’t willing to take full responsibility. And it had been obvious that everyone had been worried sick over her mishap. It had warmed her, even though she’d been terribly embarrassed and filled with guilt at causing so much trouble. She remembered how everyone was waiting, the smiles when Ross had helped her from the horse.

A family. Worried about her. She simply didn’t know how to react.

She moved. And groaned. At least no one would hear it here. A family was fine, but …

Jessie knew if she didn’t get up now, she probably never would. She heaved her battered body up and wrapped a towel around herself, then went to the dresser where she’d put her clothes. The top drawer held a nightshirt, a robe, and her undergarments along with the liquid silver necklace she’d purchased for herself at college graduation. She’d had no one there to celebrate with her, so she’d marked the occasion by driving to a jewelry store and impulsively buying the necklace.

Jessie took out the worn but comfortable oversized nightshirt, then checked the corner where she kept the necklace. It wasn’t there. Her heart dropped precipitously. Her hands searched the bottom of the drawer under the other clothes. Then she found it on the other side of the drawer. She stood straight, the necklace clutched in her hands. She knew she had left it in the left-hand corner.

She systematically went through the other drawers. Not sure exactly what might be required, she’d brought more clothes than she needed. Now she saw other things out of order. If she hadn’t missed the necklace, she might never have noticed that the slacks had not been smoothed down, nor that the shirts had been disturbed.

Someone had been in the room and had gone through her possessions!

She couldn’t prove it, but she knew it. She felt someone else’s presence in the room. A sense of violation intruded through all the other emotions. She shivered, not from cold but from the feeling of being watched. Her mind flitted back to the burglary of her home. Coincidence?

Chills ran down her spine. There couldn’t be a connection.

Awkwardly, she pulled on the nightshirt and buttoned it, then went to the windows of her cottage. Only her car was parked in front of her casita. She couldn’t see the window or parking area for the next one. Trees separated them.

She could see the second story of the main lodge. She suddenly had the feeling of being watched. Or was it because someone had been in the room?

Why?

Jessie closed the curtains and painfully limped to the bed, punching on the television remote. She wanted noise. She stretched out on the bed, grateful that it was more comfortable then her own. Cullen had certainly spared no expense.

Cullen. He would most certainly have keys to each room. She tried to remember everything Alex had told her about him. He’d served in Korea with honor but, unlike his uncle, he’d never lost his sense of direction. He’d been successful in banking, then had put together the consortium to build the Quest. He most certainly wouldn’t be interested in her possessions.

She ignored the television and her mind relived the day. Alex had left twice during the day. Marc had also been gone most of the day. So had, for that matter, Ross. How many others had an opportunity? But she kept returning to the original puzzle. Why would anyone want to go through her possessions?

She changed position and pain jabbed through her arm. Jessie repressed a few choice expressions, then rose painfully and went to the bathroom. Alex had stopped at a convenience store and picked up some double-strength aspirin before returning Jessie to the Quest. She gulped down several.

Her mind was still spinning. She wanted it to stop. There was no way she could solve any of the puzzles tonight.

Tomorrow was Sunday. The last day of the reunion. She had planned to leave on Monday, but now she might stay another day. Visit the library. And the newspaper if there was one. Even the courthouse. Perhaps she could learn more about what happened fifty years ago. Could that have anything to do with her? With the questions—and fear—whirling in her head? In the meantime, she would ask questions.

With that promise to herself, she started to drift off. She turned down the volume of the television, but left it on, comforted by the humming sound. She turned off the light.

She only wished she could turn off the questions. And warm the chill that replaced the euphoria she’d felt earlier in the day.

Ross ran his hands over the sorrel. He was usually reliable, well-mannered. And Dan’l had told him that Jessica had a good seat, that she seemed competent.

He blamed himself for not going with them. He’d thought she would be safe enough with Alex, and then the bastard had left them. After that, Ross wasn’t sure what happened.

April had claimed that she thought Jessica was right behind her when she turned into a path that wound up into the rocky cliffs. When she had stopped to warn her of the steep path, Jessica was gone.

He was also angry with Alex. The damned lawyer had said he would accompany the women. Ross had expected him to do so.

He was equally angry with himself. He’d had errands that afternoon. Errands that couldn’t be postponed. But he should have postponed them. He didn’t like the fear that had knotted his stomach when April had come galloping in. It had already been dark, and he knew how easy it was to get lost in the hills and mountains that surrounded the ranch.

He’d found himself liking Jessica and her wry sense of humor. He hadn’t liked thinking of her out there. Alone. Too much could happen.

It had taken several hours to locate her. He’d been amazed, though, to find her traveling in the right direction toward the ranch. She’d been thrown, which had to have hurt like hell, and yet she’d tried to get back on her own. It’d been foolish but game.

But one look at her, and he’d known she was operating at the limit of her endurance. He’d been surprised at the tenderness he felt when she’d rested trustingly against him.

Damn, he didn’t want to feel tenderness. He didn’t want to get involved with a woman. Particularly this woman, who might hold his future in her hands. He couldn’t afford losing his objectivity.

He’d had many brief affairs in which both he and the woman understood it would be exactly that and no more. His Apache blood had proved an aphrodisiac to some and a deterrent to others. He hadn’t cared much either way. He only knew he wouldn’t brand a woman with that mark. Nor saddle one with a man with a police record.

He finished his inspection. He’d realized immediately that the limp wasn’t serious. But he’d looked for something, an indication that the saddle or blanket had been tampered with in some way. From everything he knew of Jessica, she was a good rider. Of course, it had been a long time. Still …

He didn’t trust Marc, not when the congressman really wanted something. Nor Alex. Over the years, Ross had had many dealings with him, and he knew that Alex took chances. Oddly enough, it had been the family outlaw—himself—who’d insisted they not stretch the truth on loan statements or lease applications. But then, he admitted, he’d never trusted anyone who had anything to do with the law. Justice had always been for families like the Clementses. Not for families with names like Sanchez, his mother’s and grandmother’s name.

He ran his hand down Carefree’s neck. “Good boy,” he murmured softly. He’d found nothing suspicious. For a moment, he wondered why he’d even looked.

It was a case of mixed signals. Nothing more. And Jessica had learned a lesson last night. If she was plucky enough to ride again, he would teach her something about cutting horses. If she stayed that long. Alex had said she planned to leave Monday.

But she would be back when she learned the details of the trust.

For how long?

To stay. Or to sell? So much depended on one woman’s decision.

After this night, she would probably be only too eager to sell a tradition.

Hell, a tradition, and a losing proposition.

But dammit, all he needed was a few years to prove that the Sunset could make a good profit, if not a great one. That was all in the hell he needed.

He closed his eyes, wondering how badly he wanted those years. And what he would do—when it came down to it—to get them. How much of his soul would he trade for them?

Jessie took another hot bath in the morning and plotted her next moves. Then she changed her airline ticket, delaying her return to Atlanta for a few days. Because Alex, or the family, had paid top price for them, there was no problem.

Then she called Sol. He was obviously pleased—and relieved—to hear her voice. “Ben and I have missed you.”

“I miss you, too. How’s Ben coping?”

“He’s pining. He sits next to me, but he’s always facing the door. His tail starts beating when the door opens.” Then he added quickly, “But he’s eating well.”

“Ben always eats well,” she said wryly. She hesitated, then added, “Would it be too much trouble if I stayed a few days longer?”

“No, of course not. You’re more than due for a vacation, and Ben is good company.” Then curiosity crept into his voice. “Is it true? Was your father Harding Clements?”

She had explained everything to him before she’d left Atlanta, and he’d been more than a little intrigued. He loved historical mysteries and this seemed to qualify as one.

“I think so,” she said. “I gave them blood for the DNA test, but they have a picture of him, and I’m pretty sure it’s my father. I also look very much like Sarah did when she was my age. She was Harding’s sister.”

“Ahhhhhhh.” She heard the long sigh across the miles. Then he asked, “Did you find out why he left?”

“That still seems the big mystery,” she replied. “That’s why I want to stay. I want to do some research. Library. Court records.”

“Then stay as long as you feel it’s necessary, Jessie. I know how important this is to you.”

“Thanks,” she said. “I’ll be back in a few days.”

“And Jessie?” She heard a hesitancy in his voice. “I wasn’t sure I should tell you, but in light of the burglary in your house, I think you should know. The shop was burglarized last night. I haven’t done a complete inventory yet, but they ransacked our desks and got into the safe. Thank God, there wasn’t much there. Just Saturday receipts. A few hundred dollars.”

She stilled. Another coincidence? They were beginning to pile up. “Maybe I should come home.”

“No, no, of course not. There’s been other burglaries in this center. I probably shouldn’t even have said anything, but …”

She smiled to herself despite her apprehension. Sol was open and honest, and couldn’t keep any secret unless pledged to secrecy. Then he would go to his grave with it. “You’ll let me know if you find anything else missing?”

“Of course. You have a good time. Solve those mysteries to your satisfaction.”

“I will. Say hello to Ben.”

“Of course. I’ll tell him you said to give him an extra dog biscuit.”

“Are you spoiling him?”

“Rotten,” he answered.

“And you told me you didn’t like dogs.”

“Ben is different. And I didn’t say I didn’t like them. I just … never had time for them.”

“Wait until Christmas,” she threatened.

He chuckled. “We’ll talk about that when you get back.”

She said good-bye, and thanked him again, and hung up the phone.

Another burglary. And someone had searched her room. What could they be looking for? Or was it still another coincidence? She swallowed hard, wondering whether Sol might be in danger. And yet none of the invasions had been violent. Even the burglar at her home had obviously just wanted to get away. Still, Sol was like a father to her. He had given her a job her sophomore year, realizing from her constant visits that she loved books as much as he did. She had worked for him for three years until she received her degree in literature and discovered that it equipped her for few jobs.

Sol had an independent income from his family. He owned the store just because he loved books, but now he was in his sixties, and he had an itch to write a book, to add to the history he loved so well. When he’d offered her a partnership with a very low down payment, she’d seized the opportunity. She hadn’t realized then that she was hiding from life, from risks, from painful commitments. A bookstore was the perfect place to do that. She lived vicariously, but safely, through books.

She hadn’t known it, in fact, until she mounted Carefree yesterday, until she felt the old power of a muscled body beneath her, the thrill of the rushing wind, the warm caress of a hot sun. She’d forgotten how it felt to be so alive, to experience so many sensations and emotions, and plain unadulterated joy.

Jessie knew one thing now. When she did return to Atlanta, she would start riding again. Somewhere. Somehow.

Ignoring all the stiffness and painful bruises, she dressed, made a cup of coffee from the coffeemaker in her room and took it outside. The morning sun was bright, intense. It bounced off Coffee Pot Rock, the massive red rock formation shaped like its name. The hues were spectacular, and the raw rugged beauty filled her with awe. And something else.

A sense of belonging? A kind of rightness?

Could a place really be part of one’s soul, or was everyone affected by the sheer magnificence of the area?

And loneliness. She had discovered that last night.

She shivered despite the heat. It was late June, and the day already hot. Not like Phoenix, but warm enough. After finishing her coffee, she thought about breakfast. A number of the family staying at the resort had planned to eat breakfast together. But she wasn’t up to that yet this morning. April was staying here, and her brother, as were assorted other first and second cousins.

Jessie didn’t relish seeing April this morning, not before breakfast. She didn’t want either apologies or, she feared, a certain amount of smugness that Jessie had not only been thrown but had also gotten herself lost. She felt her face flush as she thought about last night.

She hadn’t had any time to look around Sedona on her own. She would check out the local bookstores to see what they had in literature about the area, then find the library.

It would be closed today, but she planned to be there bright and early tomorrow morning. Her conversation with Sol had spurred her determination to find out more about the family. Independently.

She went back inside the room. It had lost some of its charm last night. She considered moving to another hotel, but the horse was already out of the barn. She doubted whether she would have another visitor.

Sighing, she turned off the coffeemaker and located the keys to the rental car.

Marc glared at his daughter. “What in the hell were you up to?”

April flinched, but he didn’t relent. Dammit, she could have ruined everything.

“I didn’t think you wanted her to get too fond of the Sunset.”

“So you drove her into the arms of Ross. Her protector. Is that what you wanted?”

“How would I know that he would be the one to find her. It could have been my brother. Or you. Then you two could have been heroes.”

“It was reckless and foolish. You might well have made her suspicious.”

April shook her head. “She blamed herself. And well she should. I didn’t plan it. I just saw the opportunity when she didn’t keep up with me.”

“And Ross?”

April shrugged her shoulders. “Who cares about Ross?”

“I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

She shrugged.

“He doesn’t want you. That’s it, isn’t it?” Marc said with a hint of cruelty. “You’ve always wanted what you can’t have.”

“I want what you want, Daddy.”

“Then don’t go off on your own. Jessica needs to be handled very carefully. I want her to trust me. She won’t if my daughter abandons her in the middle of nowhere.”

“I’m sorry. I just thought …”

He sighed. “You thought you would outsmart your brother. You don’t have to compete with him, baby.”

Her eyes flashed. Damn. April had always been competitive, especially with her brother. For some reason, she thought she had to outperform him to win approval. She’d always resented Hall, the son who’d been named after their great-grandfather. Marc sighed. Great things had always been expected of Hall, little from her. A good marriage for April would have suited him fine.

But that had never suited April. She’d wanted to be his campaign manager when she wasn’t anywhere near ready for the position. She resented the fact that Marc had brought Hall immediately into a prominent position with the campaign. He partially understood. She’d been stuffing envelopes for him when Hall was out playing baseball. She’d come to consider herself indispensable. And, in many ways, she was. But she was also too assertive, too abrasive with the others on the campaign staff. She’d never learned that a politician gathered more flies with honey.

He was convinced that her desire to best her brother had prompted her to lose Jessica. She wanted to show him up, to make Marc see that she could be as tough as any man.

Just how far would she go?

He didn’t know, and that frightened him.

“Just don’t do anything else without asking me first.”

She bit her lip, and he wasn’t sure whether she understood how important it was. It wasn’t just the sale of the ranch at stake. It was those bonds. And if anyone had a key to them, Jessica did. They couldn’t scare her off.

“Swear?”

“I promise.”

“Good. Now let’s go have breakfast. Perhaps Jessica will be there.”

“Not another apology,” April complained. “I made one last night.”

“And you’ll make fifteen more if necessary,” he said.

“All right,” she said reluctantly.

“How would you like to go with me to the meeting in Phoenix next week?”

Her eyes shone. The defiance faded from her face. She’d been wanting to sit in on some of the meetings with key supporters. He had recently taken Hall to several.

“It’s done, then,” he said. “And always remember there are many ways to trap your quarry. The best is not always the most obvious.”

Jessie told herself that walking was the best possible cure for sore muscles. She wasn’t sure she believed it. Not when every step was agony.

The car wasn’t much better. Thank God, it was her left wrist that was sprained. She rested that arm on the armrest, using her fingers sparingly. Her right hand did all the work.

Armed with a good breakfast from a diner, she drove to the old center of town, stopping at the tourist center which, happily, was open on Sunday. After loading herself down with chamber of commerce information, she headed for the bookstore in the next block.

She spent an hour there, prowling over every book with even a hint of history in it, then wandered the short streets that made up what was one of three separate entities that composed the city of Sedona. According to the map, this was the old town. Further out was the government complex, including the library. Then there was Tlaquepaque, the arts and crafts village.

But these streets were lined with souvenir shops and storefronts hawking Jeep trip explorations and hot air balloon excursions. She saw a number of people getting into colorful Jeeps, and she longed to get in with them. She longed to be anonymous. But it was already getting late.

She was due at the ranch for the final reunion supper and to say her good-byes to those family members who were leaving tomorrow.

With her maps and books on the seat beside her, she drove out to the ranch. More food. More drink. More people. More puzzles.

And Ross Macleod.

Embarrassment burned deep inside her whenever she thought of him. How could she have been so foolish as to get lost?

Would he even be there? He seemed to make elusiveness an art.

Once again, cars were parked all over the yard, including Alex’s. She decided to head over to the barn first and see how Carefree was. She would also beg the horse’s pardon.

She had no more than slammed the door of the car shut when Alex emerged from the house and came directly to her. “I called this morning. You didn’t answer.” His tone was a little querulous.

“I wanted to explore. You don’t have to take care of me forever.”

“I wish I had,” he said, reaching out and taking her hand. “If I had even imagined that …”

“That I would make a total idiot out of myself. Not your fault, Mr. Kelley.”

“I shouldn’t have left.”

She tried to change the subject. “Did you get your client’s son out?”

“He was out when I got there. I think they got impatient and contacted the judge directly.”

“They can do that?”

“In a small community some people can do anything they want.”

Jessie stored that piece of information in her mind.

“In any event, I apologize. Next time I will stay by your side.”

Jessie wasn’t sure she wanted that. She sidestepped the offer. “You have no idea how much I enjoyed that ride. Until the end,” she added wryly.

He grinned. “Indefatigable, huh?”

“Well, I do have a few aches.”

“I bet you do,” he said. “But you look good.”

“With all my new fine colors. Purple, mauve?” She asked the question as she looked ruefully down at the quite evident bruises and the tight bandage around her wrist.

Alex eyed it, too. “You shouldn’t be driving with that wrist.”

“It’s my left. And I can use it slightly.”

He shook his head. “At least we know you have the Clements stubbornness.”

She nodded. “I want to see how Carefree is.”

“I’ll go with you.”

At the moment, she didn’t want that. She wanted a word with Ross if he was there. She wanted to apologize once more. She might not see him again. Although she was convinced in her own mind now that her father was indeed the missing Clements brother, the blood tests could still prove differently If so, she would not be returning. Even if it did prove to be Clements blood, her home was in Atlanta. Her brief visit in Wonderland was nearly over.

“I’ll see you in the house later,” she said.

He hesitated as if he wanted to say something. She didn’t want him to feel guilty about last night, but he apparently did. Everyone was feeling guilty, and she hated that. It was her fault. No one else’s. Still when she looked at him, she wondered where he had gone yesterday. Had it been to her room? And why? There was no one to ask, because there was no one she knew well enough to trust.

She knew that sad truth would color everything she did or thought or said today. The magic had left. An enigma remained. But she sought to reassure him. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”

He grinned. “I hear even Ross was impressed with the way you found your way back.”

“Partially back,” she corrected. “And he didn’t seem impressed. He was angry and had every right to be.”

Alex frowned. “He thinks more of those horses than he does of people.”

“I find nothing wrong with that,” she replied tartly. “People should have sense enough to take care of themselves.”

He ignored her defense of Ross. “All the same, you kept your wits when many wouldn’t have.”

And if she hadn’t? She most certainly would have been found. This was no longer the wild west. She was never in any danger. There were roads and walking trails and markings. At worst, she would have spent a few uncomfortable hours.

“It was an adventure,” she said.

He raised an eyebrow. “And you’re going riding again?”

“Of course. Every rider knows you have to get right back on a horse.”

“Not today. Not with that wrist.”

For some reason, she took that as a challenge. “Perhaps.”

Jessie gave him a brief nod, and headed toward the barn. There would be no nuances there. Ross was blunt and honest.

She thought. She hoped.

But during the day she’d told herself not to trust anyone. Not until she discovered who had an interest in her room. She had to remember that.

Ross wasn’t there. But Carefree was. He nickered softly when she approached and ran a hand down the side of his head. Apparently, she was forgiven for yesterday’s mishap. He was standing easily enough, though she saw that his leg was neatly wrapped. “Ah, Carefree,” she murmured. “I’m sorry. You should be out, kicking up your heels with the other horses.”

“Oh, I think he enjoys the pampering.” The deep soft drawl startled her, and she spun around.

He had approached so quietly that she couldn’t believe he was only two feet behind her.

“Here,” he said, thrusting half a carrot in her hand. He was wearing a faded denim shirt and an equally worn pair of Levi’s.

The gesture surprised her. She looked up into his dark eyes. She wished she could fathom them, to know what emotions lay behind them. But they were as enigmatic as before. “Thank you,” she said and held out the carrot to Carefree. The horse took it carefully from her hand and chomped on the treat.

“He’ll be fine,” he said after an awkwardly silent moment. “No lasting damage.” Ross regarded her critically, as if she were one of his charges. “What did the doctor say about your arm?”

“A minor sprain, just as you diagnosed,” she said. “No more than I deserved.”

“I should never have let you go without telling you more about these horses. They’re trained differently from the thoroughbreds your father handled. They can stop on a dime and when you tighten the reins, they step backward rather than stopping. Carefree is a hold back horse, not a cutting horse, but he was trained in many of the same maneuvers.”

“What’s the difference?” she asked.

He looked at her carefully, almost as if he were measuring the stamina or worth of a horse. Jessie had seen owners and trainers scout horses with that same speculative look in their eyes. She had to fight to keep from squirming under his perusal.

“He’s not quite as quick or quite as agile.”

“I think he’s agile,” she said wryly.

The side of his mouth turned up in what could be construed as a half smile. He changed the subject. “I hear you’re leaving tomorrow.”

No offer to ride again. Just an objective, neutral statement.

“That’s the plan,” she said just as neutrally.

He raised a dark eyebrow, and she wondered whether he’d caught the significance of her wording. He didn’t comment on it, though, and she felt a rush of disappointment. A word of regret would have been nice.

“I imagine you’ll be back. You can try that sunset again,” he said.

“Will you come with me?”

“Someone sure as hell will,” he answered. “And it won’t be April.”

“It wasn’t her fault,” she protested. “If I’d stayed with her …” Her voice trailed off as she saw his expression. She could feel the heat of it. He’d not let it show before, but anger apparently had been simmering inside him. She wondered if some of it was directed toward her.

A muscle jerked in his cheek. “Don’t be too trusting, Miss Clayton.”

“Does that mean I shouldn’t trust you either?” she asked. A shiver ran down her spine again, just as it had this morning.

“Hasn’t anyone warned you about me?” he said with a small enigmatic smile.

She shook her head.

“I’m the black sheep. The wild one. You should be particularly wary of me. Alex would tell you that.”

“Alex hasn’t told me anything about you.” It was only a small untruth. Alex had said very little.

He shrugged. “I imagine he will once the DNA match comes in.”

“Why then?”

Ross Macleod shrugged. “I have to go,” he said. “An appointment. I just came to look at Carefree, but he seems to be doing fine.” He hesitated, then said with just a trace of irony, “Have a good trip home.”

He walked off then. She hesitated a moment, then followed him to the door and watched as he strode over to the least imposing vehicle in the horseshoe-shaped drive: a dusty, blue pickup truck. He didn’t look back as he got into the driver’s seat.

She ducked back into the barn, not wanting him to see her staring after him.

An appointment? On Sunday during a family function. Or was he avoiding them all again. Avoiding her.

Don’t be too trusting. She wanted to kick him. How could he say something like that, then leave so abruptly?

A warning? About who? Or what?