“It means,” Brynne said pointedly, drawing out that last word a little, “that you’re a man living alone, and you take your coffee black. And, most likely, when you entertain, the kitchen isn’t the focal point of the evening.”

Eli sat down again, cupped his hands around his coffee, gave a ragged chuckle. “That’s a flattering take on the situation,” he said, “but the only woman who spends any time around here is my sister. Sara comes out to cook ‘a decent meal’ a couple of times a month, and brings the kids with her.”

Brynne was oddly relieved to hear that, though she knew Eli wasn’t claiming to be celibate. He was too good-looking and too unabashedly masculine for that.

“I’m not involved with anybody right now,” he went on, surprising Brynne more than a little with the frankness of that statement. “Not romantically, anyhow.” A pause. “What about you?”

Brynne looked down at her coffee, considering her reply. “I’m in the recovery phase,” she said.

“You’ve been back in the Creek for a while now,” Eli pointed out. “Six, eight months?”

She blinked back sudden, unexpected and totally unwanted tears. “There’s no time limit,” she said, somewhat defensively.

He reached across the table then, laid one strong hand over hers, lightly. His palm and fingers were warm, and calloused.

That last part surprised Brynne a little, since, dangerous though it might be at times, Eli’s job didn’t involve manual labor.

She turned his hand over in hers, examined it. Ran the pad of her thumb gently over a callus.

Eli supplied an answer without being asked. Was the man psychic, or just incredibly perceptive for a member of the opposite gender?

“I work with horses when I can. Over at Cord’s place.”

It wasn’t a surprising thing to learn, especially not in rural Montana, where horses were part of the lifestyle, but Brynne found it interesting. She loved horses herself, though, growing up in town, she hadn’t been around them much and, truth to tell, they made her a bit nervous.

“I didn’t see a barn or a corral when we came in,” she said, in a questioning tone.

“My job doesn’t really allow for a setup of my own,” Eli replied, sounding sad.

“Maybe you’ll take up some other kind of work, or retire or something,” Brynne speculated, but she was uncertain and it showed.

“I’ll always be a cop, Brynne,” he said, with a certain finality. “It’s always possible that I’ll lose an election at some point in the future, but if that happened, I’d end up working with one of the state agencies.”

“You wouldn’t even consider doing anything else?” She was over the line, pressing the issue this way, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.