Free Adrienne deWolfe by Texas Lover

struggling to keep her tone matter-of-fact. "She remembers little of the incident, other than that she was thrown against some rocks and left for dead."
    Wes stiffened visibly. She could have sworn he grew taller by an inch.
    "And her leg?"
    Rorie glanced after Merrilee, her heart aching for the child. "It was injured in her fall. Fortunately, a traveling preacher and his wife happened across the campsite and found Merrilee before the coyotes did. They did what they could, but they were no doctors. By the time they brought her to Jarrod, the bone had set and there was little he could do."
    "Jarrod?"
    "Yes," she said coolly, her guard on the rise again. "My husband."
    Those keen, searching eyes at last focused on her, and Rorie fidgeted, although she couldn't say why.
    "So your husband was a doctor, eh?"
    "He still is."
    Surprise registered on his features. "Was Jarrod the same sawbones who treated Boudreau's gunshot wound?"
    Rorie studied him narrowly, but she saw no reason not to answer. "No, Jarrod was long gone by then."
    "I see."
    She bristled at the speculation in his soft voice. "And now, Mr. Rawlins—"
    "It's Wes, remember?" The mischievous light returned to his eyes. "At least, it was this morning."
    An acute twinge of embarrassment pierced her chest. "Yes, well, I believe you have a barn roof to repair."
    His grin was slow and lazy and filled with a heart-tripping warmth. "And a fence, and a swing, and maybe even a toy and a shoe."
    She blinked, uncertain how to respond to his offer. She would have liked to say that Shae would fix the children's things, but ever since Gator's murder, Shae had been devoting his spare time to guns, which worried her immensely.
    She needn't share with Wes her fear that Shae was obsessed with vengeance, she told herself. Nodding, she turned to hurry away.
    "Miss Rorie?"
    She hesitated, surprised to hear her childhood nickname. No one ever called her that anymore, although she remembered the last time clearly. It had been her fourteenth birthday, and her mother had whispered her name as she'd kissed her cheek. The next day, Mama had died, and Papa had relegated her to a nanny. Rorie had seen little of him after that, except, of course, when he'd needed an accomplished hostess for his political dinners.
    Uncertainly, she glanced over her shoulder at Wes. "Yes?"
    "He was loco, you know."
    His voice was just gentle enough, just compassionate enough, to make her turn back around.
    "Who?"
    "This Jarrod feller. For letting you go, I mean."
    Her throat tightened. For a moment, it was all she could do not to give in to tears. She knew Wes Rawlins had a gift for flattery, yet the sincerity in his manner was hard to discount. Maybe it was because she wanted so desperately to believe in that particular truth.
    "Thank you. Wes."
    He smiled again, looking pleased by her concession. Tipping his hat, he turned and strolled toward the barn.
    It might have been the perfect reconciliation, except for one thing. He hooked his thumbs over his gun belt, and Rorie was reminded once again that her handyman was something more than he professed to be.

 
     
     
    Chapter 5

     
    Sometimes Wes amazed himself. The damnedest things could come out of his mouth.
    Take, for instance, the wisecrack he'd made the day before when he'd said Jarrod Sinclair was loco. Wes didn't know where the hell that had come from, but after blurting it out to salve Rorie's feelings, he'd realized he'd meant it. Every word. Just like he'd meant his compliment, when he'd told her she had pretty hair.
    Usually he flattered sweethearts, not murder suspects, and the lawman in him cautioned the flirt that he was taking too much pleasure out of this investigation. The last thing he needed, or wanted, was to feel sympathy for a woman he might have to arrest.
    Although the darker side of a female's nature had always appealed to Wes, he wasn't going to risk his badge or his personal freedom over a dalliance with Rorie—even if he did find