The Pride of Jared MacKade (The MacKade Brothers 2)

"Your brother, Sheriff MacKade, finds me attractive."

"Yeah." He leaned over th

e sink to splash cold water on his face. "He likes you."

"He likes me," Savannah repeated, baffled. "Why?"

"Partly because you don't like him. Dev can be perverse. Partly because I do, and he's loyal." He rubbed his dripping face with a dish towel. "And partly because he's got good instincts and a fair mind."

"Are you trying to make me ashamed?"

"No, I'm telling you about my brother. Rafe's cocky and driven. Shane's good-hearted and laid-back. Devin's fair." Thoughtfully, he laid the towel aside. "I guess it bothers me that you can't see that."

"Old habits die hard." But she could see it, had seen it. "He was sweet with Emma."

Satisfied that he'd found a chink, he grinned. "We've all got a way with the ladies."

"So I've noticed." She took the beer from him and helped herself. "Would you like to stay for dinner?"

"I thought you'd like to go out."

"No." She smiled at the yellow tulips on the table beside him. "I'd like to stay in."

Big Mae, who had run the Tilt-a-Wheel in the carnival where Savannah had worked one educational season, had always said if she ever found a man who could cook and who didn't turn her stomach at the breakfast table, she would give up the high life and settle down.

After being treated to Jared MacKade's Cajun chicken and rice, Savannah thought Big Mae had had a very valid point. She sipped the wine Jared had gotten into the habit of tucking into her refrigerator and studied him over the candles on her dining room table.

"Where'd you learn to cook?"

"At my sainted mother's knee." He grinned. "She made us all learn. And, as she had the most accurate and swift wooden spoon in the county, we learned good."

"Close family."

"Yeah. We were lucky that way. My parents made it easy—natural I guess is a better word. Growing up on a farm, everybody has to pull their weight, depend on each other." His eyes changed, and looked, Savannah thought, somewhere else. "I still miss them."

A little jab of envy reminded her that she hadn't known either of her parents well enough to miss. "They did a good job with you. With all of you."

"Some people in town would have said differently once. Some still would." The smile was back in his eyes. "We got our reps the old-fashioned way—we earned them."

"Oh, I've been hearing stories about those bad MacKade brothers." Smiling over the thought, she rested her chin on her fist. '"Swaggering around town' is how Mrs. Metz puts it."

"She would." His smile changed, edged toward the arrogant. "She's crazy about us."

"I thought as much. I was getting the car filled the other day at the Gas and Go when she pulled into the station and got Sharilyn out there by the pumps to reminisce." And, Savannah remembered, to try to pump out a little gossip.

"Oh." Jared cleared his throat. "Sharilyn, huh?"

"Who has some very fond memories of you... and a 1964 Dodge."

To his credit, he didn't wince. "Hell of a car. How's old Sharilyn doing?"

"Oh, she's fine and dandy. Says, 'Hey.'" Amused, she switched gears. "So, which one of you bad MacKade brothers was it who stuffed the potato in the tail pipe of the sheriff's cruiser?"

Jared ran his tongue around his teeth. "Rafe got blamed for it." He lifted his wine. "But I did it. We always figured whatever one of us did, all of us did, so whoever took the heat deserved it."

"Very democratic." She rose to put the dishes in the sink. "I could have used a few siblings on the rodeo circuit. There was never anyone to pass the blame to."

"Your father was rough on you."