He was a member of the school board, which meant he held her job in the palm of his hand. He was a member of the city council, once again, a very heavy influence on her job. He was the president this year of the business leaders’ association as well as the cattle ranchers’ association. Okay, so that didn’t have a lot of bearing, just a lot of influence over the other two.
He was a very busy man.
So what was he doing here wasting his time with her?
She could pretty much guess at this point. It was just so out of character for him to really care that she could only stare at him in bemusement.
And where was his driver? Because everyone knew Marshal Roberts didn’t drive himself anywhere. But she hadn’t seen anyone else in the unassuming pick-up truck sitting at her curb and no one was at the door with him before he came in.
Though she honestly couldn’t say she had ever heard of Marshal Roberts visiting any of Rafer’s past girlfriends, lovers, friends, or various associates. He’d always pretended his grandson didn’t exist in any capacity or area of his consciousness. If one mentioned Rafer, she heard he turned away or stared back at them as though they hadn’t spoken. He had his tricks and maneuvers that didn’t quite match his presence here tonight.
“I hear you spent a few days at the Triple R ranch?” His head jerked around, his gaze piercing as he asked the question almost casually.
As though he would catch her doing something, or an expression on her face that would give him an answer of some sort.
She was tempted to simply roll her eyes again, just to show him she wasn’t in the least intimidated. Though, actually, she might have been, just a little bit intimidated.
“I did,” she admitted.
There was no denying it after all. Martin Eisner had seen her kissing Rafer before she left. That spurt of reckless challenge that Rafer always awakened in her had ensured she didn’t walk away from him without throwing caution to the winds. Caution and his belief that she could ever be ashamed of having a man like Rafer Callahan in her bed.
It wasn’t shame that held her back. It was that debilitating fear. That overriding knowledge of the risk he could bring to her soul and her survival.
It wasn’t one of her brightest moments, though, she admitted, but definitely one of her most honest.
He turned back to her, his hands pushing the edges of his silk business jacket back as he shoved them into the pockets of his nicely pressed blue jeans.
That was a rancher. Jeans and a silk business jacket.
It was standard for for this particular baron of Corbin County, as he and his two cohorts were called.
His head tilted to the side as he watched her carefully, a hint of curiosity in his gaze.
“What a contradiction of expressions on your face,” he mused thoughtfully. “Tell me, Ms. Flannigan, is he aware you’re in love with him?”
A frown jerked between her brows. “I’m not in love with, Rafer, Mr. Roberts. There are just—” She paused. Her teeth clenched as she fought for the reason. “There are just things between us. That’s all.”
“Things?” Arrogant and mocking, and fully aware of his own sense of knowledge, the arch of that dark brow assured her he believed otherwise.
“Exactly. Just things.” She cocked her hip as her arms tightened over her breasts. “Do you mind telling me what you need? I’m rather busy with lesson plans and so forth tonight.”
If he intended to threaten her with her job, then she would allow him the opportunity now rather than later.
He didn’t speak immediately. He just continued to stare at her thoughtfully for long moments. Finally, he gave a small shake of his head as his lips quirked knowingly.
“I’m going to assume you’re aware you could lose every friend or acquaintance you have in this county,” he said then, his voice soft. “Tell me, Ms. Flannigan, are you certain you want to continue in this relationship that seems to be developing between you and Rafer, considering the risks and losses you’re looking at?”
Someone else who called him Rafer.
She could see the frown on Rafer’s face now, especially considering the fact that there had been times it had seemed he was uncertain if he wanted her calling him by the full version of his name.
“He doesn’t like being called Rafer,” she stated. “He only tolerates it from me, you know.”
And she was rather possessive of the privilege. Rafer had been known to get into fistfights over that name. But it seemed to suit him so very well.
“He’s never tolerated it from anyone else, but his full given name is Marshal Rafer Callahan,” he stated, and for a moment she saw something, sensed something she never had in her life. Pure, icy grief. “His mother loved her father,” he said softly then.
And the rumor had been that the father had cherished his daughter.
“Your middle name is Rafer?”
“As is his,” he inclined his head slowly. “But you’re digressing, Ms. Flannigan, and being much too curious. I asked you a question.”
“My friends won’t walk away if they’re my friends.” She shrugged. “If they do walk away, then I don’t need them in my life.”
His lips quirked as an expression of insultingly sardonic amazement crossed his face. “How incredibly innocent. And stupid.” He paused then, his jaw tightening before he said, “Haven’t you already lost one friend because of the Callahans? I believe she even told my granddaughter that you were so besotted with him and the child you carried for such a short time that nothing else mattered to you.”
She breathed in deeply, fighting the pain that wanted to tear at her soul. She couldn’t believe Amelia had actually told anyone in that horrible family about the child she carried.
“Does anyone else know?” she whispered, wondering if Rafe knew, or if there was a possibility of any of the Callahans learning of it.
He snorted at the thought. “My granddaughter told only me, and Amelia hasn’t even told her father as far as I know.”
Cami rather doubted that. If she had told Marshal Roberts’s granddaughter, supposedly her best friend and co-worker, then her father, Wayne Sorenson, knew as well.
She had prayed Amelia would keep that to herself.
“My granddaughter understands family loyalty,” he assured her as though it were a question. “Trust me, it wasn’t information we wanted bandied about.”
Of course it wasn’t. God forbid that the grandson he had disowned would dare to have children of his own. Or that any woman would desire to have his child.
“Did you have a drink to celebrate the loss of your great-grandchild, Mr. Roberts?” she asked painfully, certain he would have. “I hope you enjoyed it.”
Her voice rasped, the inability to hold back her pain in front of this man was galling.
“No, Ms. Flannigan, I did not.” The flash of some emotion she thought could have been regret flashed in his gaze. “I grieved, just as I grieved when I lost my daughter.”
“You still had your grandson. Did you grieve when you disowned him?” Anger was beginning to churn inside her now. What the hell made him think he was wanted here? “You’ve had more than twenty years to show him you grieved and what have you done, Mr. Roberts? Better yet, why are you even here?”
She didn’t want to deal with him. He had broken his grandson’s heart. If his daughter had been living, he would have destroyed her if what he said was true, and she had loved him so dearly she had named her only child after him.
“I’m here to reason with you, because you carried my great-grandchild at one time,” he said softly. “And because I know you grieved when you lost that child. I don’t want to see you hurt further, Ms. Flannigan. And regardless of what you think, I don’t want to see Rafer hurt anymore than he has already been. It may be in your best interests to consider severing the relationship now. Or convincing him to leave Colorado altogether. His chances at happiness would be greatly improved if he would do so.”