They paused at the passenger side of his truck and he couldnât help himself.
Tyler took her in his arms and kissed her deeply, longingly.
They ended the kiss when he heard people approaching one of the cars parked near them. He opened the passenger door and helped her inside and then he walked around the car to get into the driverâs seat.
âThat was an almost perfect ending to a perfect evening,â he said and started the truck engine.
âI donât even want to hear what would make it a perfect ending versus an almost perfect ending,â she retorted drily.
He grinned at her. âAh, weâve reached that point where you can now read my mind.â
She returned his grin. âNot really. Youâre just that predictable on certain subjects.â
âIs being predictable a bad thing?â he asked.
âNot necessarily. I think in most cases it could be a good thing,â she replied.
At that moment the back truck windshield shattered and a thump resounded as a bullet struck the dashboard.
* * *
We hope you enjoy this dramatic series:
The Coltons of Oklahoma: Family secrets always find a way to resurface â¦
Chapter 1
The jail-cell door clanked shut behind Greta Colton. She turned and grabbed the bars, staring at her brother on the other side.
âRyan, you know this is all a mistake. I didnât kill anyone. Iâm innocent. I didnât kill Kurt.â She watched in horror as Ryan turned his back on her and walked away. How could he believe she was capable of murder?
âRyan, please.â She grasped the cell bars more tightly, frantic for him, for anyone, to believe her. âIâm not a murderer,â she screamed, but he didnât stop walking away from her.
Greta sat up and looked around, disoriented as to time and place. Her pounding heart slowed. She was safe in her king-size bed in her bedroom. A glance at the clock on the nightstand told her it was just after four in the afternoon.
She was safe beneath her sky blue comforter with the afternoon sunshine drifting through the lacy white curtains at the window. She released a sigh of relief.
The nightmare sheâd just suffered had become a familiar one over the past three weeks, ever since she really had been arrested for the murder of ranch hand Kurt Rodgers.
Sheâd decided to take a short nap after lunch but had slept longer than she had intended. Lately, sleeping had been far easier than being fully conscious and in the present.
The moments before and since sheâd been released from jail had been fraught with anger, sadness, lies and questions. It wasnât just Greta who had been through hell but her family, as well.
She got out of bed and walked to the nearby window. From this vantage point she could see much of the green pastures and impressive outbuildings of the family ranch, the Lucky C.
But ranch business was the last thing on her mind. A lie had got her out of jail, ruined her engagement and destroyed her motherâs happiness in planning a wedding. For the past two and a half weeks, Greta had been living like a hermit, trying to cope with everything that had happened to forever change her life.
She left the window and headed for the shower in the luxurious bathroom just off the sitting area in her bedroom. It was time for her to face the man who had lied for her, the man who had sworn that on the night of Kurtâs murder he was in a hotel room with her in Oklahoma City.
She had been in a hotel room in Oklahoma City, but sheâd been all alone, certainly not with Tyler Stanton, her future brother-in-law. She definitely hadnât been carrying on a torrid affair with Tyler, as he had implied to the police when heâd offered up the alibi that had ultimately released her from jail.
It didnât take her long to shower and dress in a pair of tailored brown slacks and a russet blouse that she knew complemented her slender figure. She pulled on a pair of brown suede dress boots and slipped inside her right boot the knife her father had given her when sheâd turned sixteen years old.
Her father had worried about her having the run of the ranch, dealing with ranch hands who appeared to be good guys but might be a danger to her, so heâd gifted her with the knife for self-protection. Heâd also told her not to pull it on somebody unless she had the guts to use it.
When closed, it was a beautiful mother-of-pearl palm-size case, but with a click of a button it became a wicked nearly-five-inch-long weapon. Thankfully, she had never had to use it or even take it out of her boot.