Free Twice Kissed by Lisa Jackson Page B

if he got involved with your prettier sister, so what if he married her and now is wanted for questioning in her disappearance?
    She swallowed hard.
    This was all so damned bizarre. And scary.
    Barkley began making a racket in earnest.
    “Shh! Barkley, hush!”
    Careful not to burn herself, she plucked the waffles from the toaster and dropped them onto a plate about the time she heard the pipes groan again as Becca turned off the water.
    Thane rapped loudly on the front door.
    “It’s open,” she called over Barkley’s disgruntled growls.
    “Hey, don’t you remember me?” Thane stepped into the cabin, and the stupid dog’s rear end went into immediate motion. His apprehensive growls turned into an embarrassed snort. “I thought so.” Thane paused to rub Barkley behind his good ear.
    “Looks like you won someone over,” she said.
    “It’s a start.” He squatted, patting Barkley’s graying head, then spied the suitcases.
    Maggie’s stomach tightened as he scrutinized her. “You decided to come back to Denver with me?”
    “Yep.” She called down the hallway, “Becca—breakfast.”
    “Coming.”
    With a curious lift of his eyebrows Thane straightened and sauntered into the kitchen area. “What changed your mind?”
    “Not you. Excuse me.” She moved around him and opened the refrigerator door.
    “Talk to the police again?”
    “What? No.” Retrieving a carton of orange juice she avoided touching him, found a glass in the cupboard, and poured. “You want some?”
    “Nah. Just coffee.”
    “Help yourself.” The phone rang loudly, and she picked up the receiver as she managed to set the glass of juice on the old table. Becca, wearing cutoff overalls and a T-shirt, limped with one crutch into the room, slanted a wary glance at Thane, then slid into her seat. “Hello?” Maggie said into the mouthpiece as Thane poured coffee and she reached around him to find a sticky bottle of syrup on the second shelf of the pantry.
    “Maggie? Charlie here. Emma said you called, asked us to take care of the stock while you’re gone.” Charlie and Emma Sandquist lived on the next ranch over. Maggie had spoken to Emma this morning while her husband was out feeding his cattle.
    “Where’s the butter?” Becca asked, and Maggie pointed to the counter. Thane handed the dish with a half-used cube to Becca, and she regarded him with a suspicious, puzzled expression.
    “That’s right. I shouldn’t be gone more than four or five days,” Maggie said, propping the phone next to her ear with her shoulder as she stretched the phone cord and handed Becca the bottle of maple syrup. “A week at the most.”
    “It don’t make no never mind,” her neighbor replied. “A few days either way won’t make much difference.”
    “I really appreciate it. And if I can ever return the favor, just let me know.” While she gave instructions about the horses and dog, she finished putting a few dishes into the dishwasher and swiped crumbs, syrup, and coffee spills from the counters. Thane had moved out of the way and stood, drinking from a chipped mug she’d gotten as a wedding-shower gift years before. When she finally hung up, Becca was done with her breakfast and had, with the use of one crutch, returned to her bedroom.
    “You packed?” Maggie called down the hallway as she checked her watch.
    “Just about.”
    “I’ll help her carry it out.” Thane left his cup in the sink.
    “Wait a minute.” She grabbed hold of the crook of his elbow, then dropped her hand quickly. “Let’s talk about what’s going on here. Yes, I’m going to Denver to find out about Mary Theresa, but I think I should just buy a plane ticket and fly there.”
    “Rather than go with me?” One cynical eyebrow cocked, and she felt her blood pressure elevate a bit.
    “Right.”
    “Why?”
    She thought about hedging again, but decided at a time like this the truth was the best, if the last resort. “Because I don’t trust you,” she