Page 75 of Backlash

“I don’t.”

“Don’t you?” He cocked his head toward the lane and Nate’s truck and trailer. “You could take a lesson or two from Paula Edwards.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning being mistress of your own hou

se—raising me a passel of grandkids.”

Tessa thought about the baby she might be carrying. What would her father say? Surely he would figure out that the child was sired by Denver. She steered her thoughts clear of such dangerous ground and said, “So where were you during the women’s movement?”

“Right here watchin’ ’em burn their bras and what-have-you, protestin’ and carryin’ on. And all the time I’m wonderin’ why they don’t have the sense to know a good thing when they see it.”

“I guess it depends on your perspective,” Tessa said, squinting. Nate’s rig turned away from the lane and rumbled out of view.

“All I know is that I’m almost seventy and haven’t got one grandson to ride on my knee.”

“Talk to Mitchell,” she advised.

“I already have. But you—you’re the one who should be thinking about settlin’ down.”

“I’ll remember that,” she said dryly, her lips pressed together.

“And I’m not talking about Denver McLean.”

“Give me some credit, Dad. I know how you feel about Denver, and I know how Mitch feels about him.” Besides, she thought, he hasn’t asked me.

“And what about you?” her father asked gently, touching her shoulder. “How do you feel about him?”

“Denver’s an enigma,” she whispered, her voice catching.

“You think you’re in love with him again,” her father deduced, sighing loudly. “And don’t deny it. I can see it in your eyes.”

“I don’t hate him, if that’s what you mean.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it, Tess. But there’s just no reason for you to go pining for the likes of Denver McLean.”

“I’m not pining for anyone.”

“Good,” he said, sounding unconvinced. He swatted at a yellow jacket buzzing near his head. “I guess I’d better see if Mitch needs some help with the combine.”

Relieved that the conversation was over, Tessa walked through the back porch and into the kitchen, which smelled of spices and simmering meat. Milly was busy ladling gravy over pot roast.

“Denver with you?” she asked, without looking up.

“He’s still in town.”

“Well, if he gets back after I leave, tell him to call that partner of his.”

“Van Stern?”

“Right. He called a half hour ago. Left a message. Denver’s to call him immediately.” She paused to look over her shoulder. “He sounded real upset.”

“About what?”

“Didn’t say, but I gathered it was important.”

Great, Tessa thought, frowning to herself. Now what?

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