She grabbed Derrick by the upper arm and propelled him toward the porch.
Quinn didn’t take the hint. He followed. “I’m not done with him. Or with you.”
“If you’re pressing charges, do it, but leave us alone.” Just go away.
She opened the door, gave Derrick her meanest look, willing him inside before this situation got worse.
A powerful left hand clamped on the screen door. “He could have been hurt. Someone with no gun experience in the woods this time of year is asking for trouble.”
Derrick, who never knew when to shut up, cast a derisive glance at Quinn’s bent right arm. “Is that what happened to you?”
Both adults froze. Gena lifted her gaze to Quinn’s face, which was suddenly as dark and empty as midnight.
He swallowed. “As a matter of fact, yes. I was stupid.”
“Well, I’m not. So bug off.”
“Derrick!” Gena, aching a little for the man she’d vowed to despise, entered the house and gingerly settled the rifle in a corner. Quinn followed as if he’d been invited. Which he definitely had not been.
“I’m going to my room.”
“No, we’re going to talk about this. Sit.” She pointed to the couch.
Rolling his eyes, Derrick slumped onto the cushions and crossed his arms.
To Quinn, she said, “I apologize for any problem he caused. Thank you for bringing him home. I’ll handle it from here.”
Her heart was hammering like a woodpecker against her rib cage. She wanted Quinn to go. Even if he didn’t remember, she did.
His hair glistening from the mist, Quinn stood in her living room bunched inside his jacket looking as blustery as the weather.
“Has he had a hunter education course?”
Derrick’s education was neither Quinn’s business nor his problem. “Tell me where you live so I can be sure he doesn’t return.”
“A fishing cabin about a mile west.”
She nodded. “I know the place. I thought it was empty.”
“I thought the same about this house,” he said with a quick glance around her cozy living room. “Satterfield place, wasn’t it?”
“My grandparents’ house. Yes.” She waited to see if he made the connection. He didn’t. Nervous, uncertain, she patted her hands together and said with only the slightest venom, “Well, now that we know each of us is out here, we can be careful not to cross paths again.”
Very, very careful.
Quinn frowned and didn’t seem the least inclined to leave. “I don’t like poachers. If the boy is going to hunt, he needs a license and you need to teach him to obey trespassing laws.”
Gena’s face tightened. “He’s not your concern, Mr. Buchanon.”
“He was today.” He squinted at her. “Do I know you?”
Her pulse thumped. “No.”
“But you apparently know me.”
“Everyone knows the Buchanons.” She kept her voice casual. Unlike an invisible bookworm named Gena, the Buchanons were known to everyone in Gabriel’s Crossing. Notwithstanding the four gorgeous sons and three pretty daughters, they owned a construction company and had built half the houses in the town. Maybe more.
“Then I’m at a disadvantage. What’s your name?”
Gena hesitated. If they were neighbors, which they clearly were, she couldn’t act weird. “Gena Satterfield. This is Derrick.”
Derrick glared at both adults with the “I hope you die a painful death” stare.
The tumblers rolled around behind Quinn’s eyes. “Satterfield,” he mused. “Yeah.”
She held her breath.
Finally, he said, “Ken and Anna Satterfield lived here, right? Good folks.”
Relief seeped through her. He remembered her grandparents. That was all. Nothing suspicious in that. “Yes. They passed away, and the house was empty for a while until Derrick and I decided to move to the country.”
“You decided,” Derrick said, making his feelings on the subject crystal clear.
Quinn glanced at the sullen boy, holding his gaze steady until Derrick looked down. Gena’s blood chilled in her veins. Go away. Stop looking at him.
As if he’d heard her thoughts and decided to comply, Quinn turned toward the door. Before stepping outside, he said to Derrick, “Fences are there for a reason. Pay attention or pay the consequences.”
He slammed the door behind him.
The living room trembled with the sound for several seconds before Gena pointed a finger at Derrick. “You are not ever to go anywhere near that man or his property again. Got it?”
He made a noise in the back of his throat and rolled his eyes. And Gena could only pray he listened.
Copyright © 2016 by Linda Goodnight
ISBN-13: 9781488007507
The Rancher’s Texas Match
Copyright © 2016 by Harlequin Books S.A.
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.
www.Harlequin.com
The Rancher's Texas Match Page 20