She would do better to consider her future. She had seriously contemplated leaving. This morning she’d gone so far as to drive into town, meaning to inquire at the train station about one-way fare to St. Louis. Instead she’d stopped at the offices of the Rocky News to see the publisher. Not only was Gus McAllister pleased to see her, but he expressed delight at her editing of Vernon’s articles. He had more work for her if she was interested.

She’d given him no answer yet—she felt too emotionally raw to make any rational decisions just then—but she would have to choose soon what to do.

Certainly there were advantages to accepting his job offer. It would give her some measure of independence for one thing, and allow her eventually to repay her debt to Sloan for another. She wouldn’t have to leave Janna and the life she had made here. She wouldn’t have to leave Sloan….

Heather bit her lower lip to stop it from trembling. She wasn’t certain she could bear to stay. Her heart couldn’t stand another buffet like the one he had delivered last night.

A soft rap on the parlor door interrupted her thoughts. She took a steadying breath, and by the time Caitlin entered, Heather had herself under control.

“Sloan is here,” Caitlin said. “I told you he would come.”

She felt her heart wrench painfully.

“Do you want to see him?”

“No, but I suppose I must.”

“He’s brought Janna. If you’d like, I’ll keep her in the kitchen with me while you two talk.”

Heather managed a smile of gratitude. Her friend had been a pillar of strength.

Caitlin smiled in return. “Just remember, you can stay here as long as you want.”

When she had gone, Heather wiped her burning eyes. The last thing she wanted was for Sloan to see her cry.

She kept her back to the door, but she could tell when he entered the parlor; she could feel the raw, sheer power of his presence.

When he greeted her in a low, rasping voice, she ventured a glance at him over her shoulder. His expression was inscrutable but he appeared to be still feeling the effects of the liquor he’d drunk the night before. He had shaved the stubble from his face, but his eyes were bleary and bloodshot. When he met her gaze, he seemed uncertain. He was fingering his hat in his hand.

As the awkward moment drew out between them, Sloan cleared his throat. He was keenly aware of her distress … aware of his own. At just this moment he felt as uncomfortable as he’d ever felt with a woman. He was still smarting from the tongue-lashing Wolf had given him, while Cat had looked as if she wanted to take him out to the woodshed.