She regarded him with skepticism. “Hank and Dooley’s?”

“Hardly,” he said, grinning at last. “But the boss lady has a certain way about her that I find intriguing.”

Her heart fluttered at the compliment. “Is that so?”

He nodded. “Besides that, she owes me dinner. Our deal’s not over.”

“I thought you’d forgotten about that. Besides, the two weeks were up long ago.”

“We missed a few nights,” he reminded her.

“I never gave you a rain check.”

“But you wouldn’t renege on a deal, would you? Doesn’t that go against that conscience of yours?”

“I suppose.”

“That’s settled, then. And just so you know, I have a real hankering for apple pie.”

“Stella’s is good,” she told him.

“But I’ll bet yours is better.” His gaze caught hers. “Still warm from the oven with a big scoop of vanilla ice cream melting into all the little crevices.”

Karen swallowed hard. Somehow he had managed to make a perfectly ordinary slice of pie sound like something wickedly sensual. Or was that just her state of mind?

“How about it?” he asked. “Pie for dessert?”

She gave him a resigned look. “I’ll see what I can do.”

He winked at her. “I’ll be counting on it.”

Don’t, she thought to herself after he’d gone. Don’t count on me, Grady.

Because the truth was, if push came to shove, she had no idea which of the men in her life she’d choose…a ghost or the flesh-and-blood man who was tempting her more and more each day, despite his entirely too unpredictable comings and goings.

Grady heard the argument long before he spotted Hank and Dooley.

“I say we’ve got to tell her,” Hank shouted fiercely. “The woman has a right to know that someone deliberately cut this fence.”

“Mrs. Hanson’s got enough on her mind,” Dooley argued. “We’re taking care of it, aren’t we? There’s no harm done. Why get her all worked up about a problem that won’t exist after today?”

Grady crested the hill and spotted the two hands squared off, a section of barbed wire in Hank’s hands.

“I’m telling you she needs to know that somebody’s out to get her,” Hank countered. “She ought to be calling the sheriff. This isn’t right.” His gaze narrowed as he looked at Dooley. “Or is there some particular reason you don’t want the sheriff involved?”

The old man drew back his fist and aimed a punch straight for Hank’s face. It landed solidly, snapping the younger man’s head back.

Grady leaped from the saddle and got between the two men. “Okay, enough. What the hell’s gotten into you two?”

Whatever distrust they felt toward him was apparently less than they were feeling about each other at the moment, because both men started hurling accusations so fast and furiously, Grady could barely keep up.

“Hold it!” he commanded finally. “One at a time. Dooley, you first.”

Hank glared at Grady as a look of satisfaction spread across the old man’s face.

“Like I was trying to tell this pea-brain here, the boss already has too much on her mind,” Dooley said. “There’s no need to worry her with this latest incident, since we’re taking care of it.”

“The incident being that someone deliberately cut the barbed wire?” Grady concluded.

“Exactly,” Hank said, holding out the section of wire. “Cut through, clean as a whistle. This is new fence, too. Put it in myself just last spring.”

Grady didn’t like the implication one bit. Once again, someone was trying to sabotage the Hanson operation. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the blame was going to fall on his shoulders sooner or later. That raised those same two interesting possibilities again. Either someone wanted to force Karen out of business for their own reasons, or they wanted to cast more doubt on his integrity simply to keep her from selling to him.

“Who owns the land on the other side of the highway?” he asked Dooley.

“Tate McDonald.”

The name meant nothing to Grady. “Has he been around long?”

“Bought the place eight, maybe nine years ago,” Hank said. “About the same time I came to work for the Hansons.”

“Has he been looking to expand?” Grady asked.

Both men exchanged a look, then shook their heads.

“He’s not here much,” Dooley said. “Spends most of his time in California, from what I hear. His foreman runs the place. They keep a small herd over there, nothing like what Duke Walters had when he owned it.”

That didn’t mean that McDonald didn’t aspire to having a much bigger operation in the future. Grady resolved to find out what he could about the man.

He already knew that the land to the west had been owned by the same family for sixty years-the Oldhams-and that the property due north belonged to Jack Fletcher, a cantankerous ex-rodeo star who trained horses and whose daughter, Maggie, had a difficult streak of her own. None of them struck him as the kind of people who’d try to force a neighbor out of business, but he’d have Jarrod Wilcox do some checking, just in case.

Grady took the piece of wire from Hank. “I’ll hang on to this. For the time being, let’s not say anything to Karen. Both of you keep your ears open when you go into town. See if anybody’s bragging about being up to some mischief out this way. I’ll check out this Tate McDonald.”

Both men regarded him skeptically. “Isn’t it to your advantage if somebody is stirring up trouble for Mrs. Hanson?” Hank asked. “If she goes under, you can buy this place for next to nothing.”

“I’ve already made her an offer for a good deal more than the land is worth. I won’t renege on that.”

Dooley snorted. “Doesn’t mean you wouldn’t like to get it for less.”

“You can believe me or not, but I’m not interested in ruining her,” Grady said flatly. “She’ll get a fair price if she decides to sell. And if she sells, it won’t be because I’ve done something to make her desperate.”

Dooley regarded him intently. “And you swear you’re going to get to the bottom of this latest damage?” he asked.

“I swear it.”

Once again, the two men exchanged a look, then seemed to reach a conclusion.

“All right, then,” Dooley said. “But we’re keeping an eye on you.”

Grady bit back a grin at the warning. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Karen was getting better at gauging Grady’s moods. She didn’t allow herself to consider what that meant. All that mattered was that he hadn’t been himself since he’d returned from working on the downed fence. He was virtually silent all through dinner and as soon as he’d finished his serving of pot roast, he excused himself.

Karen scowled as he rose from his place at the table. “Okay, that’s it. Sit back down, Grady Blackhawk.”

Clearly startled by the command, he stared at her. “What?”

“I said to sit down.” She frowned until he’d complied. “Now tell me what has you in such a foul mood.”

“I’m not in a foul mood,” he insisted, looking vaguely bewildered by the accusation.

“Okay, maybe that’s the wrong word, but you certainly aren’t yourself. You haven’t been since you got back.”

“I just have a few things on my mind.”

“That’s obvious enough. What things?”

“Nothing worth mentioning,” he insisted.

“Or nothing you want to get into with me?” she challenged.

A guilty expression passed across his face. “Why would you say something like that?”

“Because you usually have plenty to say. Because you’re the one who wanted to share these little getting-to-know-you meals, and you haven’t said two words all evening. Because you all but begged me to bake you an apple pie, and now that I have, you’re about to walk out the door without even tasting it. I’d say the evidence is overwhelming.”

A grin tugged at his lips. “Is that so, Sherlock? Any other clues you’d care to mention?”

“No, I think that about does it,” she said, arms folded across her chest. “I’ve said my piece. Now it’s time for you to say yours.”