Free A Man of His Word by Sarah M. Anderson Page A

a good one in him.”
    The we said Indian first, FBI second. “You don’t buy the suicide ruling?”
    Yellow Bird scratched his throat. “Officially, that’s what happened. The case has been closed for two years.”
    â€œUnofficially?”
    Yellow Bird smirked, which gave his face a hard edge. Not a man to be taken lightly, that much was certain. “You know that by this time next year, where we’re standing will be under about ten feet of water?”
    Unofficially, Yellow Bird was still on the case. “I’m aware that that’s the current plan.”
    â€œThings can always change.” Yellow Bird pulled a card out of his jacket. “Unofficially.”
    Dan watched as the Crown Victoria pulled away, then did a slow circle to see if anyone else had witnessed the meeting. The lot was still empty, and he didn’t see any faces at the narrow windows.
    What the hell had that been about? For some reason, the conversation had struck Dan as being less about Tanner Donnelly and more about Armstrong Holdings. If he didn’t know any better, he would have sworn that, unofficially, Yellow Bird was leaving a door open, just in case.
    Damn hunches. Dan had no idea if this one was right.
    Â 
    As far as Rosebud was concerned, the rest of the week was simultaneously better and worse than that first meeting with Dan. He showed up at nine each morning, sat in the wobbly chair and took notes while Rosebud reviewed her case for the upcoming hearing on the preliminary injunction against the dam construction. It should have been boring, dry work, but it wasn’t.
    On Tuesday, Dan brought homemade chocolate-chip cookies. Wednesday was brownies and Thursday was cupcakes for the whole office. By Friday, he knew the names of everyone in the building and brought in extra cinnamon rolls for Rosebud to take to Aunt Emily. She couldn’t tell if he was just buttering them—her—up or if he’d been doing his homework and knew that bringing gifts was a Lakota custom, but either way, it seemed to be working.
    Judy was officially crushing on the man, and Rosebud couldn’t blame her. He was easy on the eyes, smart as a whip, quite possibly richer than sin and just all around thoughtful. Add in the fact that not only did he not wear a ring, but he didn’t even have the telltale faint tan lines. And one thing was certain: Dan Armstrong was eminently crushable.
    Rosebud kept her defenses up, but she got the feeling that was a waste of energy. Dan was nothing if not a gentleman. He didn’t make another attempt to touch her, much less kiss her. He didn’t even bring up that kiss again. Instead, he did areasonably good job of acting like the whole thing had never even happened. Conversation was kept strictly to the facts of the matter, and the fact was, he seemed to believe her about Tanner.
    She decided that he’d been telling the truth—or something close to it—about keeping that kiss from his uncle. That should have made her happy. As much as she’d enjoyed it, she just couldn’t bring herself to throw her body at the man, and it was clear he wasn’t asking her to. He was a gentleman of the highest order.
    Except that she was having dreams about that kiss—and more. In the dreams, the kiss was just the beginning. One night, they went riding and wound up a tangled mess of naked arms and legs on the banks of the Dakota. The next, an old-fashioned tepee hid them from the world. She was waking up hot and all kinds of bothered, only to have to ignore everything she actually liked about Dan to go to work. By Friday, she was officially irritated with the whole situation.
    At least she wouldn’t have to see him this weekend. Assuming her car could get her there in one piece, she was going to drive to her alma mater, the University of South Dakota. She needed to find out a hell of a lot more about Dan Armstrong, and she needed a computer with