He meant too much to her for her to put him in an awkward position. She would have to start considering that first step away.
Tomorrow was the anniversary of the battle. She felt it important, even imperative, that she stay on the farm through the day, and perhaps the next. Then it would probably be best if she moved back to Regan’s. A few days, a short transitory period before she went back to New York.
She stepped through the trees and looked at the farm. There was smoke coming out of the chimney from the living room fireplace. It was just chilly enough to warrant one. She could see the house itself, strong stone, painted wood, the silos and sheds and buildings.
It would, she realized, be almost as wrenching to leave the place as it would be to leave Shane. She’d been happier here than she’d ever been in her life. She’d found love here.
So she would be grateful, rather than regretful.
Walk away, a voice nagged in her brain, rather than risk.
Suddenly chilled, she rubbed her arms and began to cross the fallow field.
She saw the car zip up the curve of the lane and park at the side of the house. A quick, friendly toot of the horn, and the dogs were scrambling to greet the redhead who climbed out.
The air was clear enough to carry the woman’s laugh to where Rebecca stopped. And the distance wasn’t so great that she couldn’t see Shane’s lightning grin as he came around the side of the house to meet the woman.
Jealousy ebbed and flowed, ebbed and flowed, in a nasty, unpredictable tide as Rebecca watched them embrace easily. As the woman’s arms stayed linked around Shane’s neck.
Oh, no, you don’t, she warned silently. He’s still mine. He’s mine until I walk away.
They stayed close together as they spoke, and there was more laughter, another quick kiss, before the woman stepped away and got back into her car.
Shane ruffled both dogs, straightened, waved. Rebecca knew the moment he spotted her in the field, and began to walk toward the house again. The car darted down the lane between them, then disappeared around the curve.
“Hey.” He tucked his thumbs in his front pockets. “How’s Savannah?”
“Fine. I had a chance to look at some of her paintings. They’re wonderful.”
“Yeah.” With his instincts warning him to proceed with caution, Shane tried to read Rebecca’s face. “Ah, that was Frannie Spader. You met Frannie.”
“I thought I recognized her.” Because they wanted attention, and because it was a good ploy, Rebecca bent to pet the dogs.
“She just dropped by.”
“So I saw. I want to transcribe this interview.”
“Rebecca.” He touched her arm to stop her. “There’s nothing going on here. She’s a friend. She stopped by.”
It was pure self-defense that had her arching a brow. “Why do you feel you have to clarify that?”
“Because I— Look, Fran and I used to be… We used to be,” he finished, furious with himself. “Now we’re not, and haven’t been since…well, since you came to town. We’re friends.”
Oh, it was satisfying to watch him squirm. “Do you think I require an explanation?”
“No. Yes.” Damn it. He imagined himself strolling along and coming across Rebecca hugging another man. Someone would have to die. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, that’s all.”
“Do you think I have the wrong idea?”
“Will you cut that out?” he demanded, and paced away, then back again. “I hate when you do that. I really hate it.”
“When I do what?”
“Make everything a question. How do you feel, what do you think?” He whirled back to her, eyes shooting sparks of temper. “Damn it, if you had a question, it should have been ‘What in the hell were you doing kissing another woman?’”
“Do you feel a show of jealousy would be appropriate?” When he only scowled at her, she shrugged. “I’m sorry I can’t accommodate you. Clearly, you had a life before I came here, and you’ll have one after I’m gone.”