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had somehow never gotten around to.
    As the panic slipped away, a sense of anticipation tried to replace it. Closing her eyes, she recalled the marvelous scents of stables and horses and leather. After all these years, they remained as vivid as just a few minutes ago.
    The car turned and she opened her eyes to see the ranch house ahead of her. It looked like a haven—gleaming white clapboard in the bright autumn sunlight, a well-kept barn not far beyond and a paddock where a half dozen horses grazed.
    “It hasn’t changed much,” he remarked.
    No, it hadn’t. She’d been out here once before, for a hayride with a youth group. Once had been enough for her, but surprisingly she suddenly remembered how Jake had silenced the few who wanted to know why Nora had been invited. At least after that they’d left her alone.
    For the first time in many, many years, she felt some warmth toward him.
    He came around to open her door for her but didn’t offer a hand, as if he guessed that was too soon. She felt better with her feet on solid ground and looked around, taking in details—from the flowerpots that lined the wide porch, filled now with dying plants that struggled to hang on to just a little green, to the wooden porch swing.
    The door opened and a matronly women with pitch-black hair streaked with gray stepped out, wiping her hands on a bib apron. A wide, warm smile creased her face.
    “Nora, this is Rosa Gonzales. She and her husband, Al, work for me.”
    Rosa came down the steps, her smile fading slightly. She offered her hand, then changed her mind and touched Nora’s shoulder. “You come inside. I have lots of food for lunch, and we can eat a little early.”
    Nora didn’t argue, even though the horses drew her gaze again. Six meals a day was a pain, but an order not to be ignored. Right then she’d be more comfortable with a woman around anyway.
    The inside of the house hadn’t changed much, either, from what she remembered, but it had been well maintained.
    Rosa insisted they use the dining room, over Jake’s good-natured objections that the kitchen table would be fine.
    “Not the first time you bring a lady here,” Rosa said firmly.
    Sitting at the big polished table, with Jake at its head and her to his right, felt strange to Nora. As far as it would be possible to get from her past experience.
    More, Rosa insisted on serving them plates loaded with saffron-flavored rice and pulled pork.
    “She’s really putting on the dog for you,” Jake remarked. “She usually doesn’t object to Al and me standing in the kitchen in our work gear eating from the counter.”
    For the first time in what seemed like forever, Nora felt herself smile. It was hard not to, since Jake looked uncomfortable with this development. “Just tell me she doesn’t call you patrón. ”
    At that, a laugh sparkled in his green eyes. “Hell, no. She calls me Jake. Or other things, depending on my latest transgression.”
    The rice was perfectly spiced, the best thing she had tasted in forever. The pork was so tender it practically melted in her mouth. “What transgressions?”
    “Forgetting to take my boots off when I’ve been in the yard. I have a tendency to think floors are for walking on, but she seems to think we should be able to eat off them.”
    “She sounds like a gem.”
    “She and Al both are. I’d be lost without them.”
    “Where do they live?”
    “I don’t know if you ever saw the bunkhouse out back? Well, we fixed it up for them. Their bad luck turned into my good luck.”
    “Really?”
    “They were homeless and out of work. I needed help. They didn’t even want to be paid, but I won that battle. I think it’s the last battle I won with Rosa.”
    And that probably explained his need to make extra cash as chief of police. She stared at her plate, surprised by how much she was eating, reevaluating Jake. At least a bit. And wondering if she should eat any more than she had. She didn’t trust her stomach to