"You still don't want to go?"

"No, I'm not in the mood. Why don't you go on alone?"

He sipped the hot coffee and lowered the cup, staring down into the dark liquid.

"No, go ahead and fix something if you want. I thought you might like an evening off."

She avoided his eyes by examining the contents of the refrigerator. "We have a lot of left-overs and Scruffy is getting ridiculously fat."

"Left-overs are fine." He swirled the coffee in his cup. "Speaking of Scruffy, have you seen him lately?"

She pulled a couple of bowls out of the refrigerator. "No, but there's nothing odd about a Tom cat wandering off for a few days. He's done it before and I'm sure he'll do it again."

He nodded, setting his cup on the counter. "While you're heating that stuff up, I think I'll go out and lock Princess in the barn. I think she's ready to foal and it looks like a storm is brewing out there."

With that, he exited the kitchen.

She was setting the last bowl on the table when he returned. He came through the door, his hands behind him and a smug look on his face.

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"I have some bad news."

She eyed him suspiciously. "What?"

"Scruffy isn't a Tom cat." He pulled his hands from behind his back and held them out to her. Cupped in his hand was a tiny black kitten, its eyes still closed.

She gasped, reaching out to touch the kitten. "Oh, how darling." She glanced up at him. "Is it the only one?"

He shook his head, a wry smile twisting his lips. "Five more."

"Oh my gosh." She delicately plucked the kitten from his hand and cuddled it against her cheek. "It's so soft."

He watched her with an amused expression as she petted the kitten and talked to it. Finally he reached out his hand. "I'd better put it back before Scruffy comes looking for it."

She reluctantly relinquished the kitten and watched him retrace his steps to the barn. He hated cats, but he carried the kitten all the way to the kitchen and back simply to show her one. She smiled wistfully and turned back to the table. Why did he try so hard to cover his feelings?

The kittens were a catalyst to crumbling the walls of tension that had been built between them. Over supper they talked of the expected foal, the ranch, and everything but why they hadn't talked much for the last four days. Finally she cleared the table while he sat back with a cup of coffee. After she washed several dishes, she heard a chair scrape the floor behind her. Cade was beside her, lifting the towel from the hook and a pan from the dish rack.




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