She breathed a sigh. Everything was quiet on the home front. The boys were watching the black-and-white western movies Mr. Wilkins always had playing at his house. They hadn’t even noticed she was late picking them up. As a mother, she was both glad they felt comfortable away from home and sad too. It meant they were growing up. After chatting with her kids, she explained to Mr. Wilkins her concern about the murderer. He thought she was worrying over nothing, that crime happened even in a rural area but he assured her he’d left his dogs out—Rottweilers that loved her boys—and had a loaded gun next to him. Just in case. Although he was older, he was still a good shot. Seth and Levi were as safe as they’d be with her. Probably more so. She didn’t have dogs that would bark and alert her to danger. She glanced at the couch. Her body tingled with the memory of what she and Rafe had done there. She ran a shaky hand through her hair. No man had ever made her lose control the way he had tonight.
