A wave of sorrow lapped at Nate’s heart, as it always did when he thought about Jeff’s senseless death, though it was far milder than the tsunami of grief and anger that had engulfed him after the news reached him overseas. If either of them had to die, it should have been him—a man who put himself in deadly situations every day, taking enemy fire, at the mercy of IEDs and ambushes.

Instead, Jeff was the one whose life had been cut short. And the loss continued to send out ripples of grief, disturbing the placid surface of his world.

Perhaps it always would.

Swallowing past the tightness in his throat, he forced himself to focus on Grace’s last comment. “Yes, it was tragic. But it was also avoidable. Farm equipment and alcohol don’t mix. He knew that.”

“He wasn’t over the legal limit.”

“No, but he was close. And I have to believe that was why he forgot to activate all the safety switches before investigating why the header on the combine wouldn’t turn. If he had remembered to follow protocol, he would have realized the combine hadn’t finished its last cycle and was still under pressure—and he wouldn’t have gotten sucked in.”

Or lost both his legs.

Or bled to death in the field before anyone could respond to his frantic 911 call.

Even three years later, the whole scenario sickened him.

She touched his hand, a mere whisper-soft contact, but it was a balm on his soul. “I’m very sorry for your loss, Nate.”

“I appreciate that.” He hesitated—then covered her hand with his, sending a clear, intentional signal.

Her breath hitched, and sparks began pinging off the walls.

Message received.

But all at once she pulled her fingers free and stood. “I, uh, have to go.” She snatched up her tote from the floor and fled toward the door, like a spooked deer trying to elude a hunter.

What on earth?

He hadn’t imagined the electricity between them moments ago, or during their previous encounters. It was as real as a summer lightning storm in Missouri. And until today, he’d gotten the distinct impression she was receptive to the high-voltage current that energized the air whenever they were together.

Yet the dynamics had changed since their last visit, and he had to find out why before she bolted. Before the roadblocks she was erecting sent them spinning off course.

“Grace.”

She hesitated as he murmured her name, her hand on the knob. Slowly turned. Every angle of her taut body said she was poised for flight. “Yes?”

He stood. “Tell me what’s going on.”

She clasped the handle of her tote with both hands, squeezing it tight. “What do you mean?”

If she wouldn’t offer up the answers he wanted, he’d have to play twenty questions.

“Have I offended you somehow?”

“No. Absolutely not.”

Good to know.

Rather than invade her personal space and perhaps reactivate her flee instincts, he kept his distance, maintaining an open, approachable posture. “I thought we were establishing not only a professional rapport but a friendship. Now you’re backing off. Shutting me out. Why?”