It was sad that Grace had such a bad opinion about guns and cattle. But then, she was really religious. It made sense that she’d have firm attitudes. Clancey was religious, too, but she wasn’t rigid in her beliefs. She simply thought that the way people chose to live was between them and God, and it wasn’t her place to judge them.

She went back to work, hoping that the daily routine would keep Morris out of her thoughts, even temporarily.

Grace went out to look at the cattle with Banks, her arms folded tight over the simple dark coat she was wearing.

“I have about a hundred head of Santa Gertrudis,” he told her. “I have two full-time cowboys who keep them safe from predators and help me around the place.”

“It smells terrible,” she murmured.

He was faintly offended. “We keep the lots clean,” he said defensively. “But cattle do function, and when it’s fresh, it smells.”

She turned away, looking over at the big barn. “What do you have in there?”

“The milk cows and a couple of Australian shepherds that we use to help us herd cattle.”

She made a face. “I don’t like dogs. There weren’t any in the village where I lived overseas.”

He’d already driven her around the ranch, showing her the newly painted fences and the pastures and the cattle. He’d given her a tour of the house, as well. To say that she hadn’t been impressed was an understatement. Probably the collection of guns in his gun case had something to do with that.

He drew in a quiet breath and sank his big hands into his pockets. “Coffee?” he asked.

She glanced at her watch again. “Heavens, I’m going to be late for my meeting! Can we go now?” she asked, looking up at him.

There was no joy in her eyes, no interest, no nothing. He wondered absently where she’d gone, that passionate young woman who’d kissed him so hungrily just before her fiancé was killed. She was a different person altogether now.

“Certainly we can,” he said politely.

They walked to the SUV.

“It’s so lonely here,” she said, glancing around. “No close neighbors at all. How do you stand it?”

“I like the solitude,” he said simply.

“Well, to each his own,” she sighed.

Which was, if anything, an understatement.

He dropped Grace off at her church and left her with a smile. She gave him one, too, an impersonal one that she might have given a stranger.

He hadn’t planned to, but he stopped by the office. Clancey was having a quick lunch at her desk while she keyed old files into the computer. She looked up, surprised, when he came down the steps.

He scowled. “What the hell are you eating?” he asked shortly.

“Grits,” she said. “Why?”

He made a terrible face. “Grits? For lunch?”