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leave you out in a bean field. Your brother tells me we can’t reach your father. Is there anyone else I can notify? Someone must be worried by now.”
    â€œBrother?” JD squinted up at the silhouette hovering somewhere behind his left elbow. What in hell was she talking about? He wished he could focus. The doctor must have given him something for the pain. “We’re traveling,” he managed to say. “There’s no one expecting us. What time is it? Do we have time to find a motel?”
    She drifted closer and took the glass he’d emptied. “It’s almost nine, and you’re in no condition for driving, even if the truck is, which I doubt. And the next motel with any chance of a vacancy this time of year is about fifty miles down the road. I told the sheriff I’d keep you here for the night. He said he’d talk to you in the morning.”
    â€œCrap!” He didn’t realize he’d roared the word until Tinkerbelle stepped backward, away from him. He considered apologizing, but “Damn it to hell” emerged instead.
    â€œMy feelings exactly, Mr. Smith,” she said dryly. “It’s been one of those days. I’d offer you some ice cream, but it’s melted all over the rug of my car. It blends well with the blood. But my aunt wouldn’t like it if I offered any less than my full hospitality. May I fix you some soup, perhaps?”
    He damned well didn’t want soup. The ceiling fan whirling lazily over his head created something of a humid breeze, but it sure as hell didn’t cool things off any. Hadn’t they heard of air-conditioning out here? JD felt his shirt sticking to his back. That ice cream would have tasted good right about now. “I’ll pay for your rug,” he grunted. He had too many things to think of at once, and his head just wasn’t up to it. “Just bring me some more water, please.”
    â€œHow about iced tea? And perhaps some cheese and crackers? They’re not too heavy. Maybe they’ll stay down.”
    He hadn’t had cheese and crackers in years, not unless it was goat cheese on fancy rye crackers of some sort at one of those parties Jimmy had insisted he attend. Somehow, JD knew Tinkerbelle didn’t mean goat cheese on rye. Soda crackers and Velveeta would suit him nicely right now. He nodded.
    He kept his eyes closed and pretended the breeze from the fan was cool as she drifted away again. He didn’t hear her coming or going, but he could catch her flowery scent as she passed. The kitchen must be nearby. He could hear her talking to Jackie. She talked with the kid much more easily than she did with him. Of course, Jackie probably didn’t swear at her.
    Jackie returned with the tray, and JD almost felt disappointment. He didn’t waste time puzzling on that. He glanced at the boy’s pale, wary face and decided he’d better sit up and pretend he wasn’t dying. Learning the responsibilities of fatherhood at his age and in this condition seemed pretty ludicrous, especially after thirty-two years of doing what he damned well pleased.
    Just throwing his foot over the edge of the couch warned he would die sooner than later if he tried that again. Gritting his teeth, JD propped the bandaged foot on a convenient coffee table and sat up against the back of the couch. It had a good high back, one a man could feel comfortable with. The seat sank down deep so he could sprawl, and he sighed with relief once his foot settled. He sipped the iced tea and decided Miss Toon was right. He definitely preferred this over water.
    â€œWhat are we going to do about the sheriff?” the boy whispered.
    â€œWhy does she think you’re my brother?” JD whispered back.
    The kid shrugged. “Heck if I know. You don’t look much like a father, I guess.”
    If his head didn’t hurt so damned much, that thought might make him laugh. Ever since he’d discovered