Summer Days - Susan Mallery Mills & Boon M&B

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that it was now all up to him.

      The woman—Heidi—jogged up to the house, the goat trotting at her side like a well-trained dog.

      “Glen, are you all right?” she asked, slightly out of breath. “What’s going on?”

      “It’s going to be fine,” Glen told her, looking calm for a man about to go to jail.

      “It’s not fine,” May said firmly. “My son is being difficult.”

      “Not much of a surprise,” Heidi muttered, turning to him. “I know you’re angry, but we can come to terms. If you’d just listen and be reasonable.”

      “Good luck,” May said with a sigh. “Rafe doesn’t believe in being reasonable.”

      He shrugged. “Everyone has a flaw.”

      “You think this is funny?” Heidi demanded, her green eyes snapping with outrage and fear. “We’re talking about my family.”

      “And mine.”

      A car pulled in behind his. Rafe saw the city seal for Fool’s Gold and a sign, Fool’s Gold Police.

      A woman in her forties got out. She wore a uniform and sunglasses. The name tag read Police Chief Barns. Rafe was impressed. Dante hadn’t just made calls, he’d gone to the top.

      Still clutching the goat, Heidi moved toward the woman. Heidi smiled, although her lips trembled, and despite his annoyance at her and the situation, he acknowledged she looked as innocent as a milkmaid. He glanced at the goat. Make that a goat maid.

      “Police Chief Barns, I’m Heidi Simpson.”

      “I know who you are.” The police chief pulled a smartphone out of her pocket and scrolled through the screen. “I’m looking for Rafe Stryker.”

      “That’s me.” Rafe moved toward her. “Thank you for coming out here personally.”

      “Your lawyer insisted.” The police chief didn’t sound pleased about the fact. “So, what’s going on?”

      “Glen Simpson claimed to be selling the Castle Ranch to my mother for two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. He took her money and gave her fraudulent documents to sign. He doesn’t have ownership of the land, never opened escrow and has spent the money. Despite his claims of wanting to work things out, he has no way of paying her back.”

      May made a soft, distressed sound in the back of her throat. “My son is clear on the facts, but he’s leaving out an important point.”

      “Which is?” Chief Barns asked.

      “That there’s no need for this to involve you and the law.”

      “I’d like to agree with you, ma’am, but your son here has filed an official complaint. I don’t suppose you can tell me that he has no legal claim on any of this? Am I getting my hopes up here for nothing?”

      “I signed the documents, as well,” Rafe told her. Which was his own damn fault. “My mother may believe in Mr. Simpson’s innate goodness, but I do not.”

      “He’s not a bad man,” Heidi insisted.

      The police chief turned to Glen. “You have anything to say about this?”

      Glen looked up at the sky for a moment and back at Chief Barns. “Nope.”

      “Then I’m going to have to take you in.”

      “You can’t.” Heidi physically moved between the chief and her grandfather, the goat still at her side. “Please don’t. My grandfather isn’t a young man. It’s jail. He could die in there.”

      “It’s not Alcatraz,” Rafe told her. “It’s a city jail in a small town. Not exactly hard time.”

      “You know this from personal experience?” Heidi asked.

      “No.”

      “Then stay out of it.” Heidi’s eyes filled with tears as she returned her attention to the police chief. “There has to be something you can do.”

      “You’ll need to talk to the judge,” Chief Barns said, her voice surprisingly kind. “Your friend here is right. It’s not a bad jail. He’ll be fine.”

      “I’m not her friend.”

      “He’s not my friend.”

      Heidi and Rafe looked at each other.

      “Can I kick him?” Heidi asked the police chief. “Just once, but really hard?”

      “Maybe later.”

      Rafe knew better than to protest. The way the two women were glaring at him, getting off with a single kick would be a light sentence.

      He wanted to point out that he hadn’t done anything wrong here, that Glen was the bad guy. But this wasn’t a time for logic. He knew his mother well enough to guess that, and he doubted Heidi was all that much different.

      Glen didn’t put up a fight. He was quickly handcuffed and put in the back of the car.

      “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Heidi said. “To bail you out.”

      “We won’t be able to set bail until the morning,” Chief Barns told her. “But you’re welcome to visit. Don’t worry. He’ll be fine.”

      The chief got in her car and drove away. Heidi led the goat away, and May turned on her son.

      “How could you arrest him?”

      Rafe thought about pointing out that he hadn’t arrested Glen—he’d only arranged to have it done. A detail she wouldn’t appreciate.

      “He stole from you, Mom. You lost this ranch once. I’m not going to watch you lose it again.”

      Her anger visibly faded. “Oh, Rafe. You’ve always been so good to me. But I can take care of myself.”

      “You just got swindled out of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”

      May crossed to him. “If you’re going to bring that up.”

      He put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. Despite her height, he was still a good half foot taller.

      “You know you make me crazy, right?” he asked.

      She hugged him back. “Yes, but I don’t do it on purpose.”

      “I know.”

      She looked up at him. “Now what?”

      “Now we get your ranch.”

      CHAPTER TWO

      HEIDI STOOD IN THE MIDDLE of Fool’s Gold, not sure what to do first. Glen needed her help, and she needed a lawyer. Not that she had any money to pay one, but that was a problem for another time. Right now, the pressing issue was getting her grandfather out of jail.

      She turned in a slow circle, seeing the sign for Morgan’s Books and the Starbucks where she hung out with her friends. There was Jo’s Bar, but no large banner proclaiming “excellent and free legal advice here!”

      Pulling out her phone, she scrolled until she found Charlie’s number, then sent a quick text: Urgent. Can we talk?

      Seconds later, came the reply: Sure. At the station.

      “The station” being the city fire station. Heidi left her truck where it was and walked the short three blocks to the firehouse.

      The firehouse was in the oldest part of town. It was a two-story brick-and-wood structure with big garage doors facing the street. They stood open in the warm April afternoon. Charlie Dixon was waiting by the red fire engine she drove.

      “What’s up?” she asked as Heidi hurried forward.

      “There’s

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