"If you expect me to thank you, forget it." She shoved, found him unmovable. "It's your fault."
"Thanks. It's flattering to think the sight of me has a woman dropping at my feet. There." He traced a finger down her cheek again. "That brought some color back."
"If this is the way you do business, you can take your job and—" She ground her teeth. "Let me up."
"Let's try this." Lifting her, he plopped her down on the seat beside him. "Hands off," he added, lifting his. "Now why don't you tell me why you're ticked off at me?"
Pouting, she brushed at her smudged trousers. "You know very well."
"All I know is, I walked in the door and saw you doing a swan dive."
"I've never fainted in my life." And she was thoroughly mortified that she had done so now—in front of him. "If you want me to work on this house, scaring me into unconsciousness isn't the way to do it."
He studied her, reached into his pocket for the cigarettes he'd given up exactly eight days before. "How did I scare you?"
"By walking around upstairs, opening and closing doors, making those ridiculous noises."
"Maybe I should start off by telling you I got held up at the farm. I didn't leave until fifteen minutes ago."
"I don't believe you."
"I don't blame you." If he wasn't going to smoke, he had to move. Rising, he strolled over to the hearth. He thought he caught a whiff of smoke, as from a fire that had recently died. "Shane was there—and so was Cy Martin. He's mayor now."
"I know who Cy Martin is," she said testily.
"You should have known him in high school," Rafe mused. "He was a complete ass. Anyway, Cy dropped by to see if Shane could plow his lane. He was still there when I left. Fifteen minutes ago. I borrowed Shane's four-wheel to make the hill. Parked it and came to the door in time to see your eyes roll back in your head."
He walked back to her, stripped off his coat and tucked it over her legs. "By the way, how'd you get in?"
"I—" She stared at him, swallowed. "I opened the door."
"It was locked."
"No, it wasn't."
Lifting a brow, he jingled the keys in his pocket. "That's interesting."
"You're not lying," she said after a moment.
"Not this time. Why don't you tell me what you heard?"
"Footsteps. But there was no one there." To warm them, she tucked her hands under his coat. "Boards creaking upstairs. I started up. It was cold, bitterly cold, and it frightened me, so I went to the landing."
"You were scared, so you went up instead of out?"
"I thought you were up there. I was going to yell at you." Her smile was weak, but it was there. "I was furious that you'd managed to make me jump. Then I looked down the hallway. I guess I knew you weren't there. I heard wood scrape, and a door slam hard and someone crying. Then I bolted."
He sat beside her again, put his arm around her shoulders in a friendly squeeze. "Who wouldn't?"
"A shot," she remembered. "I was almost down the stairs when I heard a gunshot. It made my ears ring. Then the door opened, and lights-out."
"I shouldn't have been late." Unexpectedly, he leaned over and gave her a quick, casual kiss. "Sorry."
"That's hardly the point."
"The thing is, some people feel things in this place, some don't. You struck me as the cool, practical type."
She folded her arms over her chest. "Oh, really?"