overhear. Then he walked away without a word.
But Kino lingered, then spoke. “Asphyxiation,” Kino said. “No blood work yet.”
“Mechanical or...?”
“Clay, it’s an ongoing investigation. Okay?”
Kino gave him a pained look as Gabe, now Kino’s boss, retraced his steps, coming to a stop beside Kino.
“Her cows aren’t sick, are they?” asked Clay.
Gabe adjusted his felt hat so the brim shaded his eyes that now glittered like a hawk’s. “Stay out of it, Clay,” said Gabe. “It’s bad business.”
Chapter Eight
Izzie waited in her pickup outside the offices of the tribal livestock manager because Clay had called. Left a message. Said it was important.
Finally Clay appeared, carrying a saddle over his shoulder as if it weighed nothing. She straightened and stared, drinking him in like a glass of cool water on a hot day. It was well past five. His clothing was dirt-smeared and dusty. He tossed his saddle in his truck and removed his work gloves.
She slid out of her pickup. At the sound of the door closing, he turned in her direction.
His brow quirked and a smile played on his lips. But it vanished by the time she reached him. He smelled of horse and sweat. Why did she find even that appealing?
Clay propped himself against the closed gate of his battered truck. He was tall and handsome, his dark eyes glittering as he looked her up and down. Did he notice that she’d changed out of her work shirt and into a gauzy peasant blouse? That her jeans were clean and her lips glossed? Izzie swallowed back her nervousness. This was about business, she reminded herself. Yet she had taken time to brush out her long hair. Now she was embarrassed that she had dressed as if going on a date. She tucked her hands in her back pockets as her heart fluttered and kept walking until she was close enough to see his long lower lashes brushing his cheeks.
“You wanted to speak to me?”
He nodded. “You look pretty.”
So he noticed. She blushed.
“Want to go somewhere more private?” she asked and then thought her words sounded like an invitation she had not meant to extend.
His brow quirked again.
“I mean, so we won’t be interrupted.” She pressed her hand to her forehead as she made matters worse. What was wrong with her? She didn’t generally trip over her own tongue. Must be the lip gloss.
Clay chuckled. “I know what you mean, Isabella. My truck or yours?”
“Mine.”
“Good choice.” He extended his hand, and she led the way. He scooped up his saddle and followed, dropping the gear into her truck bed. She glanced at it and then to him.
“Some things have been going missing around here.”
“Ah.” She reached for her door, and he beat her there, opening it for her. She could get used to this, Izzie thought, as she slipped behind the wheel. He rounded the hood, giving her time to admire his easy gait and powerful frame. The good girl after the town’s bad boy. The cliché made her wince. But she’d never gotten over him or her body’s reaction every time she got near him.
She pressed a hand to her flushed face as he swept up into the cab.
“The quarry?” he asked, instantly choosing the place where they had spent happier days.
“Sure.”
The drive took only fifteen minutes, but it felt like forty as the silence stretched. She actually blew out a breath of relief when she put her truck in Park. They walked side by side to the water and sat on the log everyone used as a bench to watch their friends leap from the top of the quarry into the deep water below.
“Do I make you that nervous, Izzie?” he asked.
“Clay, I’m all tangled up around you.”
“Because of Martin?”
And there it was, the three-hundred-pound gorilla in the room, the topic they had never spoken about.
“There is a lot about Martin and me that you don’t know,” she said.
“That so?”
“I thought you wanted to talk about my cattle.”
“Sure. My brother tells me that the three we found up on
But Kino lingered, then spoke. “Asphyxiation,” Kino said. “No blood work yet.”
“Mechanical or...?”
“Clay, it’s an ongoing investigation. Okay?”
Kino gave him a pained look as Gabe, now Kino’s boss, retraced his steps, coming to a stop beside Kino.
“Her cows aren’t sick, are they?” asked Clay.
Gabe adjusted his felt hat so the brim shaded his eyes that now glittered like a hawk’s. “Stay out of it, Clay,” said Gabe. “It’s bad business.”
Chapter Eight
Izzie waited in her pickup outside the offices of the tribal livestock manager because Clay had called. Left a message. Said it was important.
Finally Clay appeared, carrying a saddle over his shoulder as if it weighed nothing. She straightened and stared, drinking him in like a glass of cool water on a hot day. It was well past five. His clothing was dirt-smeared and dusty. He tossed his saddle in his truck and removed his work gloves.
She slid out of her pickup. At the sound of the door closing, he turned in her direction.
His brow quirked and a smile played on his lips. But it vanished by the time she reached him. He smelled of horse and sweat. Why did she find even that appealing?
Clay propped himself against the closed gate of his battered truck. He was tall and handsome, his dark eyes glittering as he looked her up and down. Did he notice that she’d changed out of her work shirt and into a gauzy peasant blouse? That her jeans were clean and her lips glossed? Izzie swallowed back her nervousness. This was about business, she reminded herself. Yet she had taken time to brush out her long hair. Now she was embarrassed that she had dressed as if going on a date. She tucked her hands in her back pockets as her heart fluttered and kept walking until she was close enough to see his long lower lashes brushing his cheeks.
“You wanted to speak to me?”
He nodded. “You look pretty.”
So he noticed. She blushed.
“Want to go somewhere more private?” she asked and then thought her words sounded like an invitation she had not meant to extend.
His brow quirked again.
“I mean, so we won’t be interrupted.” She pressed her hand to her forehead as she made matters worse. What was wrong with her? She didn’t generally trip over her own tongue. Must be the lip gloss.
Clay chuckled. “I know what you mean, Isabella. My truck or yours?”
“Mine.”
“Good choice.” He extended his hand, and she led the way. He scooped up his saddle and followed, dropping the gear into her truck bed. She glanced at it and then to him.
“Some things have been going missing around here.”
“Ah.” She reached for her door, and he beat her there, opening it for her. She could get used to this, Izzie thought, as she slipped behind the wheel. He rounded the hood, giving her time to admire his easy gait and powerful frame. The good girl after the town’s bad boy. The cliché made her wince. But she’d never gotten over him or her body’s reaction every time she got near him.
She pressed a hand to her flushed face as he swept up into the cab.
“The quarry?” he asked, instantly choosing the place where they had spent happier days.
“Sure.”
The drive took only fifteen minutes, but it felt like forty as the silence stretched. She actually blew out a breath of relief when she put her truck in Park. They walked side by side to the water and sat on the log everyone used as a bench to watch their friends leap from the top of the quarry into the deep water below.
“Do I make you that nervous, Izzie?” he asked.
“Clay, I’m all tangled up around you.”
“Because of Martin?”
And there it was, the three-hundred-pound gorilla in the room, the topic they had never spoken about.
“There is a lot about Martin and me that you don’t know,” she said.
“That so?”
“I thought you wanted to talk about my cattle.”
“Sure. My brother tells me that the three we found up on
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