“What is it with you and making dinner?” he asked in disbelief. “What are you? Julia Crocker or something?”

I groaned. “It’s Julia Child and Betty Crocker. And no, I’m just a normal person going home to make dinner like most normal people do.”

“Baby, there’s nothin’ normal about you. Get over to the pool hall in ten minutes.”

“Skeeter!” I protested, but he hung up. Damn him.

A car behind me honked, and I realized I was still at the stop sign. I drove through the intersection and pulled into the parking lot of the Burger Shack, going over my options.

First, I could ignore him, but I was certain he’d send someone for me or even come himself. How would I explain that? Which of course was what he was hoping would drive me to my second option: go to him and do as he asked. But if I jumped as soon as he called, I’d be setting a bad precedent. Maybe we could figure out some sort of compromise. I had Muffy with me right now, and I really didn’t want to expose my poor dog to the seedy underbelly of Henryetta. She’d already endured enough.

Instead, I sent a text. I’ll meet you tomorrow morning. But not at the pool hall. I can’t be seen there after what happened on Thanksgiving. Pick a place where no one will know me or my truck.

He took so long to answer, I was sure I was gonna turn up dead in a ditch, just like Mr. Sullivan from the bank. Instead, he texted me back five minutes later as I was pulling into the Mexican restaurant’s parking lot.

Fine. I’ll let you know when and where.

My mouth stretched into a smug grin. Round one: Rose 1, Skeeter 0.

But my smile fell just as quickly. I was a fool if I thought I could best Skeeter Malcolm. Not that I had any desire to. I just wanted to stay off his radar, but I suspected that was a pipe dream.

Maeve hadn’t arrived yet, so I took the aluminum pan of enchiladas into the kitchen and put them into the oven to keep warm. Then I went back outside with Muffy, shivering in the cold northern wind, thinking about Violet. Could I trust her? Over the past several months, she’d manipulated me and turned on me time and again . . . Part of me yearned to have my sister back in my life, but I knew I had to be careful.

Mason’s car turned down my gravel drive, catching me by surprise. It was barely five o’clock. Butterflies took flight in my stomach, and I wondered if that feeling would ever go away. I sure hoped not.

He got out of his car, and I walked toward him, surprised when he swept me into his arms and kissed me with abandon.

“What are you doin’ home so early?” I asked when I regained my senses.

“I wanted to celebrate getting the leg brace off before my mother showed up.” He kissed me again before lifting his mouth inches from mine.

“You’re definitely off to a good start.”

Without another word, he bent down and scooped me into his arms.

“Mason! What are you doin’?” I shrieked as he took a step forward.

“Now that I officially live here, I’m carrying you across the threshold. Something I couldn’t do with that damn leg brace on.”

Muffy heard my cry and came running over, then stood barking at Mason’s feet.

“I don’t think Muffy approves,” Mason said.

I giggled as he climbed the porch steps, still holding me fast. “She’s worried that you’re going to ravish me.”

“Then Muffy has cause to worry.” His mouth lowered to mine, and he kissed me again. Muffy’s bark changed, though, and it was accompanied by the sound of a car crunching on gravel. Mason stiffened and looked over his shoulder before setting me down on the porch.

I glanced around him to see a sheriff car coming down the drive. “That can’t be good,” I murmured.

“No. I suspect it’s not.”

The car pulled to a stop, and a female deputy I didn’t recognize got out of it. She was short and a bit stocky, with unruly red hair that she’d tried to tame with a messy bun. “Mr. Deveraux,” she said. “There’s been a development you should know about.”

Mason gave her a quick nod, then turned back to me. “I’m sorry, Rose. I have to go deal with this.”

“What’s it about?” I asked, anxiety churning in my stomach.

“Official business. Nothing for you to worry about.”

Only he looked so serious I couldn’t help but be anxious. He started toward the steps, and I grabbed his arm to stop him. “Mason?”

He pulled me to him for a gentle kiss. “Sweetheart, don’t look so worried. Everything’s fine. Why don’t you take Muffy inside? I’ll be there in a minute.”

Muffy was yipping at the woman who didn’t appear to appreciate her watchdog behavior. Maybe Muffy had an aversion to redheads after all of Hilary’s nonsense.

The deputy turned to look at me, making me uncomfortable with her piercing stare.

“Muffy. Come on,” I hollered toward her.

She stopped barking and sulked as she crawled up the steps.

“That’s got to be one of the mangiest dogs I’ve ever seen,” the deputy said in a disgusted tone. “Are you sure she’s caught up on her shots?”

Mason’s back stiffened. “Deputy Hoffstetter, do you have a purpose for being here other than to insult our family pet?” He sounded furious, and I felt like cheering.

The deputy’s face reddened, and she shot me a glare before muttering something too low for me to hear. If it was an apology, it was a poor one.