Page 19 of Trace of Doubt
With only one rocker, Denton and I sat on the porch steps to drink our coffee, and Joy curled up in my lap. I stroked her with shaking fingers. The last time I was this close to a man, I had to fight him off.
But I had dreams like any woman. I longed for a man I could trust—a man I could love and share my innermost thoughts with. He’d feel my presence when I entered a room, and we’d sit for hours content with silence and a love that promised to last through every storm.
Denton stood and climbed the steps. “Sorry. Not my intention to make you nervous.” He leaned against the porch post.
I nodded at his perception and took my first sip to regain my composure. “I’m a loner.”
“Would you prefer I leave?”
I prayed for guidance. Denton could be a great guy. If he wasthe enemy, I wouldn’t discover it by avoiding him. “I’m okay. We can talk.”
“I’ve been a widower for a couple of years, and it’s hard to climb out of the grief. But I’m ready.”
Suspicion gnawed at me. “We just met. Why is my friendship important to you?”
“You’re a mystery, Shelby. I’m curious.”
“And I’m confused.”
He waved away my question. “All I want is friendship. Nothing else. Great coffee, by the way.”
His warm smile caused me to relax slightly. “I bought it at the same place where I work—Amy-Jo’s Café.”
“I need to pick up a bag.” He pointed to his horse. “Want to meet Big Red?”
“I’d love to.”
Denton introduced me, and I petted the horse while cradling Joy.
“I have a soft spot for animals,” he said. “My apartment in Houston didn’t permit pets. Another reason why I liked it out here. Trust me, as a kid, I pestered my parents for another dog, a cat, and a horse.”
“Are you sure you don’t want this puppy?”
“Certain. I have my eye on her mama’s next litter.” We walked back to the porch steps. “Do your parents live nearby?”
I’d rehearsed this type of questioning in prison. “They’re east of here. What about yours?”
“Mine live in the Conroe area.”
“Are they in good health?”
“Remarkably good and very active. Mom is an ex-cowgirl and RN–turned–trainer for therapy dogs. Dad’s a retired police officer and a scoutmaster. He also helps Mom with whatever she needs. They’re great parents. I’m lucky.”
“Sounds picture-perfect. Siblings?”
“Two brothers, both younger. You?”
“A sister.”
“Does she live near your parents?”
I smiled. “I have no idea.”
His brow wrinkled. “You aren’t close to your family?”
“Not really.”
“From what I see, it’s their loss.”
