Rusty, now alert at her feet, whined in commiseration. She pulled on a robe and hurried to the window, her heart too light at the thought of seeing Jake again to slow down. “You’re such a sweetie,” she whispered to Rusty as he trotted after her. “I’m going to miss you.” Her heart fell. Outside, a dark-haired stranger with a telltale bulge under his jacket stood chatting to Sam. The marshal. And Jake still hadn’t returned. She pressed her fingers to her lips, remembering the minty taste of his kiss, the possessive strength of his arms drawing her closer. Her heart fluttered at the memory of his whispered words—this isn’t goodbye. Her breathing quickened. Something must have happened to him. She hurriedly dressed and then rushed into the main room, where Sherri was setting a platter of bacon and eggs on the table. “Where’s Jake? Why didn’t he come back?” Sherri’s expression turned empathetic.
