Like Arrows (Cedar Tree #6) Read Online Free PDF Page B

had a bad feeling about this land deal. Normally everything goes through me: setting up meetings, planning trips, sorting documents, writing letters. In the past couple of months, Martin's been evasive and secretive. He's having people come in for meetings I never arranged for him. He's booking his own flights to Texas—this San Antonio trip is the third one in two months. The kicker is, other than asking me to do a title search way back when, I haven't seen any paperwork or documents, until he handed me this letter. It was the second time he asked me to personally deliver something to the Walker farm."
    Looking from a set of intense blue eyes to an almost familiar, and certainly more intimidating set of dark ones, I straighten my shoulders and push on. "I can do it," I offer, lifting my chin to show my determination."
    "What? What are you talking about?" This from Malachi whose eyes I meet full on for the first time since I overheard him say what's been ingrained in me since childhood.
    "I have a key," I offer by way of explanation.
    "Hell no."
    "Was planning to do some overdue filing this weekend..."
    "I said no."
    His bossy tone rubs me the wrong way and I plant my index finger squarely in his chest. "Who are you to tell me what to do?"
    Malachi stands unmoving, simply looking down at me with those eyes that show a lot more emotion this close up. A soft chuckle from behind me reminds me of the sheriff's presence. Maybe not so smart to blurt out my intentions when the county's top lawman is in attendance. I back away from Malachi, realizing how ridiculous I must look, my five foot three form facing off with his six and half feet—or thereabouts—leanly muscled length. No wonder the sheriff is amused.
    "Hate to say it, tempting as it is since you have a valid reason to be there, but I can't let you do that," he says, his smirk disappearing. "Until we find out what we're dealing with it could be unsafe. You should just go about your business and leave the investigating up to us."
    Typical brush off.
    With the letter in hand and a promise to be in touch before Monday, when Martin's supposed to be back, the sheriff takes his leave.
    "You heading out too, Mal?" he says when he's about to get in his patrol car, looking behind me where I can sense his friend lurking behind me.
    "Yup." Comes the answer from much closer than I'd expected. A steady look is directed over my shoulder, lasting a touch more than is comfortable, before he slides behind the wheel and backs out of my drive.
    Now what?
    I turn slowly and am faced with the broad expanse of what is visible of his chest under the thick parka. The man is not moving, forcing me to tilt my head way the hell back to look at him.
    "Excuse me." I try to get him to move.
    "I can hear the wheels in your head turning, so I'll tell you again. Do not get yourself involved. Do not find an excuse to go on a solo expedition"—I bristle at the bossy tone, when he bends down and gets right in my face—"And do not go into the office until you hear from us." Then he grabs me by the shoulders and sets me aside so he can slip past me and out the door. Well.
    I try to stay pissed as I watch him back up as well, but the hot tingle where his hands touched my body is too distracting.
    _
    Saturday mornings I meet Kerry for yoga at the Heart and Core Yoga Studio on Main Street. I'd told Kerry some time ago when she caught me dozing off in the middle of a conversation, that I had a history of almost constant fatigue. She immediately invited me to go with her for her yoga classes. She said it helped her sleep better at night and actually gave her more energy during the day. I always avoided any type of exercise other than walking, simply because any time I tried to do more, my joints would ache for days after. I'd been told swimming was a good way to get some movement in without putting undue strain on the joints, but that would involve wearing a bathing suit. That is so not gonna happen. I don't