Hideaway - Hannah Alexander Mills & Boon Silhouette

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out a hand, bracing himself for the man’s exaggerated grip. He didn’t wince when his knuckles squeezed against each other. “Breakfast will be ready in about thirty minutes. It’s our Saturday special—”

      “No time for that today, Gideon, we’ve got other things to worry about.” The man loomed a little too close and tall, a sure bet he had conflict on his mind.

      Dane suppressed a groan. At six feet even, he was barely an inch shorter than the mayor, but he’d never learned to intimidate quite so well. “Time for a cup of coffee?”

      “I need to know where your boys were last night.”

      Not this again. “All snug in the house as soon as the milking was done.”

      “You know that for sure? You have padlocks on all your outside windows?”

      Don’t react. “I have squeaky floorboards, and I’m a light sleeper. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on, Austin?”

      The mayor kicked at a rock with the pointed toe of his boot and gestured across the lake toward the town of Hideaway. “Someone set a boat afire on the new dock last night.”

      Dane sniffed the air. He’d caught the scent earlier, but several neighbors heated with wood stoves and fireplaces, so he’d thought nothing of it. “Was anybody hurt?”

      Austin shook his head. “Edith Potts called the county sheriff this morning—she found her cat lying on the front porch, shot through the side.”

      That was even more disturbing. In spite of Austin’s suspicions, the fire could have been an accident. The cat could not.

      “Know anybody who’d do those things?” Austin’s gaze combed the outskirts of the ranch.

      “Not a soul.”

      “What about that new boy you got last month? Black kid with that stupid mop-head hairdo. What do you know about—”

      “I know where Gavin was last night, Austin. Don’t try to drag my kids into—”

      “Didn’t I hear somebody calling him Blaze? I hear he’s not doing too well in school.”

      “He’s just settling in.” Temper, Dane. Control the temper or suffer the consequences. “I’ve told you before, my kids aren’t delinquents.” They were just unwanted teenagers who’d fallen between the cracks in the social system.

      “Yeah? How long were you in the hospital when your kid Bruce Wickman ran over you with the tractor?”

      “That was seven years ago,” Dane said curtly. “He was here by mistake.” Bruce was still a touchy subject between them. One of several.

      “How do you know your little Blaze isn’t a mistake?”

      From the corner of his sight, Dane saw “little Blaze” walking up the hill with Willy—all five feet ten inches of brawn. Time to get rid of this joker before tempers flared or feelings got hurt.

      “Austin,” Dane said, forcing an edge to his tone, keeping his voice low, “I appreciate your coming out to check on us, but your fears are unfounded. Why don’t you wait until the sheriff checks out the source of the fire before you start pointing fingers in our direction again?”

      “Don’t blow me off like—”

      “It seems I remember you were the most outspoken against the new boat dock. If the sheriff knew that, he might be more likely to check you out.”

      “You know I wouldn’t—”

      “And didn’t you and Edith Potts have some heated words a few weeks back about her property line?” Most of the time Austin Barlow was easy to handle. He hated bad press.

      “Hi, Mr. Barlow,” Willy called.

      Austin turned and looked the boys over, nodded, then turned back to Dane.

      “Thanks for coming by, Mayor.” Dane opened the truck door and stepped back. “Sorry you can’t stay for breakfast.”

      Dr. Jim Brillhart was seated behind his minuscule desk in the director’s office by the time Cheyenne arrived.

      She slumped into the empty chair across from his desk. “So, what’s up, Jim?”

      He hesitated for a full second before unfolding his long legs from their cramped position. He stepped around the desk. “Can I get you a cup of coffee? Ardis brought some doughnuts. I know you like the chocolate-iced ones.”

      Cheyenne studied his expression. “No, thanks. I’m not really hungry right now.” Something was making Jim edgy. “Is everything okay?”

      He closed the door and returned to his chair, folding himself beneath the desk once more. “I noticed you’re scheduled for two weeks of vacation. Going anywhere special?”

      Please don’t tell me you need me to work. “I hadn’t made any plans. Why?”

      “I was just checking your records, and you have an anniversary date coming up next month.”

      That had to be it. He wanted her to work. “Yes, and I haven’t had a vacation for a year.”

      “Exactly.” He tapped the tip of a pen on the desk, watching the movement of his hand.

      “Is there some trouble covering the shifts?” It wasn’t as if she had something special planned.

      He stopped tapping. “I don’t need you to work.” He straightened and scooted forward, still looking at the pen. “In fact, if you haven’t used up the four weeks before your anniversary date, you’ll lose what you don’t take, according to company policy.”

      “I was afraid of that, but I just couldn’t find the time….”

      “I have a proposition for you. I would like you to take all four weeks, starting now. In addition, I’d like you to take additional leave time.”

      “Additional?” She tried to read his expression. “Why?”

      He met her gaze, held it, sighed. “You need it.”

      “I’m doing fine. I don’t—”

      “I heard about your episode this morning. It’s obvious to me and to the staff that you’re still struggling with your sister’s death.” His words tumbled over one another. It was well-known to the staff that their director hated confrontation.

      “I dropped a clipboard, for Pete’s sake. Big deal.”

      “Arlene said you were shaking visibly.”

      Cheyenne made an ostentatious show of looking at her watch. “It’s been barely forty-five minutes since that happened. Arlene sure didn’t waste any time.”

      “And the fact that this annoys you tells me you’re still being affected by grief over Susan’s death, because I know you, Chey. You don’t get rattled that easily.” His chair squeaked as he leaned forward to place his elbows on his desk. “Face the facts. You had a devastating experience, and you haven’t been given the time to deal with it. I’m giving it to you now.” He held up an April schedule. “I’ve already removed your name.”

      Cheyenne stiffened. “Over a silly little incident this morning? You can’t be serious.”

      “That kind of thing has happened more than once in the past month.”

      “Three times. Yes, Jim, I know that. I’ve had some trouble sleeping, but don’t you think that’s normal after a loss like mine?”

      “Sure. It’s perfectly understandable after what you went through, and you need time to deal with the loss. You’re one of our best doctors, Chey, and your emotional health is important to everyone here, including your future patients. You know how quickly ER docs burn out.”

      “Save the lecture, I’ve heard it all before.” This was crazy.

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