She was going ignore both men’s invitations in favour of a long relaxing bath at the homestead, but a tiny, insidious thought of Ryan coming down the drive to double-check she really didn’t want to go to the movies kept popping into her head. Caught between a rock and a hard place, she decided shooting was the lesser of the two evils. Plus, she didn’t want Stirling to kill the Easter Bunny either. When she got to his weatherboard home, Jaime didn’t even know why the man had invited her. He was brooding, non-communicative and as surly as ever. As she’d arrived at his back door (taking into account Ryan’s pointer from her first night at Polly’s Plains), he’d met her on the verandah. That had nipped, right in the bud, her finding out more about the man through his belongings. Damn. He had two roast beef rolls in his hand, dripping with gravy and partially wrapped in tin foil. Buster was gambling at his heels, ears perked, only taking his eyes off the food to lick the drops of gravy off the ground.
