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another gnaw on a chew toy, and it squeaked. His tail wagged happily, and understanding hit her with all the subtlety of a two-by-four.
    “It’s not what you’re thinking.”
    Her head snapped to the side. Rafer stood in the doorway. He’d thrown on jeans, but not much else. His hair was mussed and a five o’clock shadow darkened his jaw, yet his eyes were sharp. He stood with one hand propped against the archway, the other trailing over his chest.
    Cassidy’s felt as if her heart was about to burst out of hers.
    “What is this?”
    He shrugged. “He’s over here a lot. I put out some things for him.”
    Her jaw dropped. “You yell at me, yet you put out the welcoming mat for him?”
    “I’ve never yelled at you.”
    “Snapped at, then. Chewed on a bit.”
    His eyes hardened. “He gets away from you too easily, Cassidy. You don’t know what could happen to him when he gets loose.”
    “You think I don’t know that?” Her hands fisted at her sides. “Why do you think I’ve tried, like, fifteen different ways to keep him safe?”
    A dark expression flittered across Rafer’s face, and his gaze jerked away. His hand slid down his stomach and his thumb anchored itself around the waist of his jeans. She was momentarily distracted by the mouthwatering sight, but only momentarily.
    “You’ve been playing with me this whole time.” The lump in her throat felt huge. The disappointment shouldn’t have been so painful. She’d known what she was getting into when she’d let him kiss her.
    Yet she’d hoped…
    “It hasn’t been a game,” he said gruffly. “None of this has been a game.”
    “No?” She took two quick steps forward. “You lure my dog over here so you can berate me for trespassing on your property. You play with my feelings and…take advantage. What would you call it?”
    His gaze flashed back to her. “What feelings?”
    She brushed the question aside and pointed at her dog. “You made me think you hated him.”
    “I didn’t mean—” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I don’t hate him.”
    “Obviously. You bought toys for him, you lying son-of-a-bitch.”
    He pushed away from the wall and walked towards her slowly, all tightly bound energy and emotion. “If I was a bit… irritable …the first few times we met, I had a justified reason.”
    “What? Because I’m a Wilson?”
    “Yes,” he snapped. He raked a hand through his hair. “I didn’t know you then. I thought… I thought maybe the old man sent you to rub salt in the wound.”
    “What wound?”
    His face twisted, and he nudged a red ball out of his way with his bare foot. It wasn’t quite a kick, but Thunder dropped the squeak toy and looked up at him with baleful eyes.
    Cassidy felt a twinge of something other than anger. “What wound, Rafer?”
    That muscle in his jaw ticked faster, but she watched him steadily.
    He rubbed a hand over his heart. “I didn’t buy these things for Thunder.”
    It took her a moment to understand. When she did, she looked around quickly. “You have a dog?”
    In resignation, Rafer dropped to his haunches and turned the bowl of food. The name Lucy was printed on the side in block letters. “I did.”
    Did. As in past tense. Cassidy’s stomach squeezed, and she instinctively looked at the fishing picture. The Dalmatian. Dread danced down her spine. “Oh no. What happened?”
    Rafer stayed on his haunches and reached out to scratch Thunder under the chin.
    She edged closer. “What happened to her?”
    He shook his head abruptly.
    “Please tell me.”
    He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Your grandfather killed her.”

Chapter Four
     
    The air left Cassidy’s lungs as if he’d punched her. It couldn’t be. The feud was not that bad. Not that…vicious. Her grandfather could never, ever do such a thing. He was loving and patient.
    At least with her.
    Her knees wobbled, and she gradually let them go. Kneeling down, she tentatively placed her hand on Rafer’s knee.