Bounty Hunter Read Online Free

hours
     trying to convince herself that any woman would have responded to Sam’s lavish care
     that way, would have taken his small, but constant suggestions about everything from
     her clothing to cosmetics as a sign of his devotion, as she had. Instead of as the
     early warning signals they really were; signs that something wasn’t quite right.
    The back screen door slapped against the wood frame, and Kane Hawthorne stepped into
     the tiny kitchen.
    “Sorry if I startled you. I knocked but I guess you didn’t hear.”
    Elizabeth wasn’t sure why this man, a dark stranger with the most compelling eyes
     she’d ever seen, made her suddenly feel safer than she’d felt in a long time. She
     didn’t bother to analyze it, not wanting to ruin her first shared meal in months.
     “You seem to have a talent for catching me with my head in the clouds. If you need
     to wash up—”
    “Done. I found a spring up the slope behind the barn. I let the mare loose on the
     far side of the barn. There were no bramble thickets around, so your crop should be
     safe.”
    “Thanks, that was very considerate of you. Everything’s just about ready, if you want
     to have a seat.” She gestured to the small wooden table. It canted a bit on one side,
     but it was scrubbed clean and otherwise was serviceable enough.
    “Smells good in here.” His large frame dwarfed the wooden chair.
    She turned back to the stove, unable to keep the small triumphant smile from creeping
     across her face. “After being in that musty barn, I imagine anything would smell better.”
    She turned in time to catch him staring at her again. She averted her gaze and set
     two small salads and a basket of bread on the table next to the crock of butter. She
     watched him stare at his salad for a moment, then at the bread, then finally up at
     her again.
    “I know it might seem redundant to have a saladbefore vegetable stew, but …” She shrugged uncertainly as he continued to stare at
     her. It should have made her feel uncomfortable, and in a tingling, warm sort of way,
     she guessed it did.
    She finally turned her attention to the rolls. “Help yourself. I wish I could say
     I made them, but I traded some jam for them at Dobs’s store.”
    Kane’s hand reached out and engulfed the small glass jar sitting next to the butter
     crock. He lifted it and inspected it. “So, this is the legendary jam everyone’s raving
     about?”
    She felt the warmth in her cheeks as he looked at her. “I don’t know about raving.
     But people seem to like it enough to buy it.”
    “It must be something, if you need room to make more. Boundary Gap isn’t exactly overrun
     with tourists, or residents in need of jam, for that matter.”
    “It was sort of a fluke. I, uh, noticed that the thickets bordering the fields were
     a goldmine of berries. So far I’ve found wild raspberries, huckleberries, lingonberries,
     even some wild plums—” She stopped short when she realized she was babbling.
The man asks a simple question, and I sound like Peterson’s Guide to Edible Fruit.
“Anyway,” she said, forcing a more casual note, “I scrounged around in here and found
     Grandma Fielding’s recipes for preserves. I took some to Dobs to … well, to trade.”
     She faltered for a moment, suddenly uncomfortable with just how much her story was
     revealing about her predicament.
    “Sounds as if I’m not the only one with bartering skills around here.”
    He didn’t smile, but his comment sounded sincere and went a long way toward easing
     the sudden tension.
    “Well, to make a long story short, Dobs sold some to a woman who was traveling in
     the area looking for local crafts to sell at some of the fairs farther south, around
     Sandpoint and Coeur d’Alene. She liked it and thought it would be a good seller. Dobs
     knew I needed … well, he was nice enough to pass the word on to me. Then there’s Kootenai
     River Days later this month, and Bonners Ferry has a Boundary