“Morning.” Jake rose and grabbed a red mug off the counter to hand her, then gestured her into the seat next to him. Congeniality softened his tone, but his eyes were granite hard. The thick fragrance of Colombian beans greeted her. She sniffed appreciatively as she sat, ignoring the set of Jake’s jaw.

“It’s decaf,” Quinn muttered with a glare at his own cup.

“I told you I wasn’t making two pots.” Jake reclaimed his seat.

“You three look like you’re heading out to work the ranch.” Sophie took a small sip and sighed as warmth filled her.

“We are.” Jake nodded toward the tumultuous clouds. “We have repairs to make all over the ranch, at least before the next storm hits—which should be late tonight or early tomorrow morning.”

“How’s Mrs. Shiller’s house?” Sophie asked Quinn.

Quinn shrugged. “I went by this morning and met with the fire marshal. The damage isn’t as extensive as we thought last night. The living room and stairwell sustained both fire and smoke damage, the kitchen just some smoke. We haven’t been able to track down Mrs. Shiller or Lily Roundtree yet, but they’ll check in with Lily’s niece one of these days. We have repairmen there already.”

“Any news on the notes?” she asked and Jake stiffened.

“No. Your prints were the only ones on the paper. And the handwriting isn’t familiar.” Quinn shook his head. “There are a lot of people who don’t want any development in the area. The tribe faced organized opposition when we built the casino even though we’re autonomous on our own land.” He rubbed his chin. “Though this seems like just one individual.”

“So was the Unabomber,” Jake said soberly. “My money’s on the Concerned Citizens Group.”

“Maybe,” Quinn allowed. “I’ll head out tomorrow and talk to Billy Johnson.”

“Rockefeller,” Sophie said with a small grin. Had her bout with the ketchup pissed off Billy enough that he’d try to kill her?

Quinn leaned forward. “Have you remembered anything? Noticed any strange cars around the neighborhood? Or any people walking or jogging down the street?”

Sophie shook her head. “I haven’t noticed anything out of the ordinary.”

“That’s what I figured. I have deputies going door to door in Shiller’s neighborhood. Maybe somebody saw something.” Quinn took another drink of the unleaded brew and grimaced.

Silence sat comfortably around them until Colton pushed back from the table, his chair scraping across the thick wood floor. “Come on, Quinn. Let’s go saddle the horses.” He nodded to Jake. “We’ll meet you at the barn.” He dropped a quick kiss on Sophie’s head and left.

Quinn unfolded himself to his feet and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder when he passed her. “We’ll find who started the fire. You’ll be safe here today, just stay close, all right?” He gave her a gentle squeeze before following Colton out of the room.

“Will you be all right here for a few hours?” Jake leaned forward and took one of her hands in his.

Sophie nodded, his broad hand warming her more than the coffee, his dark eyes smiling at her. “I’ll be fine. I thought maybe I’d try out the studio today. I mean, since your mom and Leila went to so much trouble.”

A dimple twinkled from his pleased grin. “Do you need help with that?”

“No. And I’m not promising to stay.”

“I know.” He stood. “We need to talk. But right now I have to go make sure the steers are safely contained.”

“It’s a nice space to paint, and I may do the exhibit for Juliet.” She wrapped both hands around the warm cup.

“No pressure.” One knuckle under her chin tipped her face up for his lips to brush hers.

“Right,” she murmured with a raised eyebrow as he chuckled and moved across the kitchen.

“I’m not sure how long we’ll be, but you stick close to the ranch, all right? I’ll have my cell,” he said.

Sophie nodded as he left the kitchen and turned back toward her coffee. The fire had been meant for her. To harm or just scare, she wasn’t sure. Now she was staying at Jake’s, right where he wanted her. Maybe she should fly back to California for some perspective. But the canvases and oil paints beckoned her from the bedroom. It wouldn’t hurt to at least see how well the studio worked. She could just start one painting, since her day was free. It didn’t mean she was moving to Montana for any length of time.

Reassured, she finished her coffee before dodging into the bedroom where she pulled on a pale sweatshirt, gathered her art supplies, and darted out the front door. Her hair blew around her face as she ran toward the garage, climbed the wooden steps to the landing, and pushed open the door. Dim light cut through sparkling dust mites as she slammed the door with one booted foot. The room was as perfect as she remembered.

With a small smile, she glanced out the wide southern window to the storm lurking just over the lake. The urge to paint the scene bubbled through her veins, and she set up her easel and settled a pristine white canvas in place. She spread oils onto a board, chose the correct brush, and started to slide paint into a mood.

Several hours later, Sophie ran through the front door as darkness fell early from the oncoming storm. It had held itself at bay the entire day, almost as if it posed over the lake just to assist in her brush strokes. The phone rang as she finished stirring an aromatic beef stew in a Crock-Pot for Jake, who’d called earlier and hoped to be back soon.

“Hi, Sophie, it’s Melanie from the general store. The delivery guy just dropped off your new charcoals.”

Sophie fought to keep from asking why the petite teenager had known to call her at Jake’s. There weren’t many secrets in the small town. “How late are you open today?”

“About another hour; we want to miss the storm.”

“Okay, I’ll be right there.” She cast a wary glance upward then grabbed her keys and ran to the Jeep. It’d be at least an hour, maybe more, before the storm hit and she needed the charcoals to sketch out her paintings for the next day.

The storm held off as she drove the fifteen miles to the general store across from Doc Mooncaller’s. She parked, dodged inside, and paid Melanie for the box of charcoals just as the girl was shutting down the lights for the day.

Fat raindrops began to fall as she pulled into the street to head back to Jake’s, her new supplies perched safely on the backseat. The passenger door flew open and a lanky teenager leaped inside; Sophie jumped and slammed the brakes.

“Sorry if I scared you.” He turned sorrow-filled brown eyes her way.

Fear caught the breath in her throat. “I know you. You were in the crowd at the Concerned Citizens meeting.” Sophie eased the Jeep to the side of the road. The slam of drops on metal drowned out the sound of the running engine.

The kid nodded his blond buzz-cut head, his slender hands running along his dark jeans before he wiped his nose on the back of one sleeve. “I’m Jeremy.” He had to be fourteen, maybe fifteen.

“Hi.” For some reason, she felt calm.

“Jeremy Rockefeller.”

“Ah.”

“I, um…” A deep red blush stole across his features. “I wanted to apologize. For the fire.”

Her heart clutched. “You set the fire?”

“Yeah. I didn’t know you were pregnant.” His eyes filled with tears.

Sophie whirled on the boy. “What difference does that make? It was okay to kill me otherwise?” Fury lit her tone and she stifled the urge to shake the kid.

“Kill you?” Jeremy vehemently shook his head. “Jeez, lady, I wasn’t trying to kill you. Mrs. Shiller was out of town and you had that big tree right outside your window. I knew you’d be all right. Everyone can climb a tree.”

“So what were you trying to do?”

“Be a man. Stand up for what was right.” He wiped the back of a hand across his eyes.

“By leaving scary notes and firebombing an old woman’s house?” Sophie’s voice shook.

“Dumb. I know. But your development would’ve raped the land. I just wanted to do something. For once.”

Sophie sighed. The kid’s misery was obvious. It certainly couldn’t be easy being raised by the odd Rockefeller couple. “So why confess?”

“I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I just feel so bad.” His words rang true.

Sophie’s thoughts reeled. The kid was obviously scared. And remorseful. Finally, with a sigh, she said, “We have to tell the sheriff.”

“I know.” Sniff.

“But if you promise to channel your aggression better and work for Mrs. Shiller one day a week for the next year, I won’t press charges.” She’d been a scared kid with crappy parents at one time, too.

“Really?” Hope filled his brown depths.

“Really. But I can’t guarantee Mrs. Shiller will agree and not press charges. And I don’t know what the sheriff will do.” Shit. She really didn’t want to know what Quinn would do.

“It’s a deal, anyway.” He held out a skinny hand and they shook.

“Okay.” Sophie pulled back onto the road and circled around the fountain to the sheriff’s office. Quinn met them at the curb, probably having seen them from his window. Rain curled through his thick black hair and plastered his denim shirt and faded jeans against his body.

“You okay, Soph?” His eyes revealed nothing as Jeremy slowly exited the vehicle.

“I’m fine. Jeremy has a confession to make, and I don’t want to press charges.”

Quinn’s eyes hardened on the boy as he slammed the car door. He rapped three knuckles against the window and waited until she rolled it down a bit. “I’ll need a statement from you.”

“Nope. I have nothing to say. It’s over as far as I’m concerned.”

Quinn shook his head. “Jake might have something to say about that.”