“You didn’t have to come.” Sloan gave him a look of cool indifference. “I can take care of myself. I have for years.”
Her words were like a straight-armed shove intended to push him away; they were difficult to ignore. But he managed it.
“I found out something that I thought you might want to know,” he began.
“And what would that be?” Showing little interest in his reply, Sloan carried her boots into the bedroom.
Trey had no choice but to follow. He stopped in the doorway and waited until she emerged from the walk-in closet, empty-handed. “It seems that this time maybe I was wrong.”
“This is a red-letter day, isn’t it. I’ve always had the impression the Calders were never wrong about anything. I think I’d better sit down for this one.” Sloan perched herself on the edge of the bed, hands braced at her side, striking a slightly regal, if mocking, pose.
It took every ounce of will to keep his temper in check. “It’s possible that our people were a bit standoffish with you tonight. Care to know why?” Trey challenged.
“Oh, you’ve found an excuse for them, have you?” There was an unmistakable taunt in her wide-eyed look of innocence and interest.
“I’m going to take an educated guess and say that you bought Max Rutledge a Christmas present.”
“Naturally. I get him something every year. What of it?” She tossed the challenge right back.
“You might have mentioned it to me.” Trey couldn’t keep the annoyance and frustration out of his voice.
“Why? I already know your opinion of him, and it isn’t one I happen to share. It would have only started another argument, and I would have sent Max something whether you liked it or not.”
“But it would have been better if I was the one who took the gift down to the commissary and arranged for it to be shipped to him. When you showed up with it, word traveled like a shock wave across this ranch.”
“What did? You mean that I know Max?” She tipped her head at a perplexed angle.
“You’re damn right!” Trey said with force. “Good God, Sloan, everyone on this ranch knows about the trouble he caused. And here you are, sending the man a package. As far as they’re concerned, it’s an act of betrayal.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Sloan declared in outrage.
“Not to them, it isn’t!” Trey paused a beat, reining in his temper. “You’re right. I wouldn’t have liked the idea of you sending him a present, but I wouldn’t have stopped you. So why the hell did you have to mail it here? Why couldn’t you have stopped at the post office in Miles City after one of your doctor’s visits?”
“My God, Trey, you make it sound like I should be ashamed that I know him—that it’s some dirty secret the world shouldn’t know. And all because of the prejudice you and your family have for him. It’s even infected the people who work for you. Do you know how revolting that sounds?” Sloan demanded in righteous anger. “And if you think that I’m going to let a bunch of small-minded people dictate to me who I have contact with, you’re wrong!”
“Dammit, Sloan, I’m only thinking of you. Before this happened everybody liked you. They had accepted you. Now you’ll have to win their trust all over again. Loyalty to them isn’t just a word; it’s a way of life. In their eyes, you’ve crossed the line.” Trey saw the objection forming on her lips. “I’m not saying that’s right or fair. It’s just the way it is.”
Before Sloan could respond to that, the phone on the bedside table rang, an echo of it coming from the sitting room. She started to reach for it, then pulled her hand back.
“You might as well answer it. It’s for you, anyway,” Sloan declared, then added caustically, “Probably that redhead from The Oasis.”
His half-narrowed gaze locked on her in shock. “Why are you bringing that up? We settled that weeks ago.”
The phone rang a second time. “Aren’t you going to answer that?” Her chin lifted with the saccharine challenge, and the smile that followed had the same sweet coating. “That’s right. I’m sitting here. It does make it awkward for you, doesn’t it?”
Uttering a barely smothered imprecation, Trey crossed to the nightstand and snatched the receiver in mid-ring. “Yes,” he muttered, none too pleasantly.
“Is that you, Trey?” Cat’s voice came across the line, full of uncertainty and question.
Trey released a long, silent breath and cast an irritated glance at Sloan. “Yeah, it’s me.”
“It didn’t sound like you. I—”
He never heard the rest as Sloan walked up and jerked the phone out of his hand. “Who is this?” Hot demand was in her voice.
“Sloan!” Cat said in surprise. “I was about to ask Trey if you were all right. When Jobe Garvey told me you’d gone to the house, I got worri—”
“I’m fine. Just tired. Here’s Trey.” She shoved the phone back in his hand and turned away, all tense and frustrated, too much so to pay attention to whatever Trey said to his aunt.