Cutter (Gail McCarthy Mystery series) by Laura Crum Read Free Book Online

long hours and got paid big bucks. Thus this property, the house and barn, and the fact that Kris could stay home and ride her horses and take care of her daughter, instead of work. On the other hand ...
    "I'd better be going," I told Kris as I turned toward my pickup. "Got a hot date," I added.
    "Who with?"
    "Lonny Peterson, you know him?"
    Kris shook her head. I wasn't surprised. Team ropers and endurance riders operated in very separate spheres-they weren't likely to have run into each other.
    "Don't want to be late," I grinned as I waved good-bye. I waved to Rick, too, as I passed him on the driveway, and he waved back, with a friendly smile.
    But it wasn't really potential lateness that had urged me to leave, it was Rick. Or my feelings about him. I wrinkled my nose. Not so much about him. About them.
    Rick Griffith was a handsome, confident man with an easy smile-and an underlying arrogance, I added to myself. Usually in a suit and tie and with a briefcase in his hand, he exuded a polite, civilized essence of power. It wasn't anything he said or did particularly-to do him credit, his manners were impeccable-just the sense that he always expected to dominate any situation. I tended to avoid him.
    As I drove down the driveway with its white-board-fence-lined meadows, I pondered my reaction to Rick. I knew plenty of men like him and I could deal with them; it was the element of Rick and Kris that bothered me here. I both liked and admired Kris as a person, but I didn't admire the way she seemed to kowtow to Rick.
    Kowtow? Come on, Gail, I told myself, why shouldn't she be nice to Rick? He's her husband; she probably likes him. But I couldn't rid myself of the impression that she deferred to him, an attitude I thought profoundly unnecessary, given Kris's obvious strength and intelligence.
    For all that I envied her the house, barn, and land, as well as the freedom she had to pursue her sport-a freedom composed of both time and money-I wouldn't trade places with her. I was pretty sure I wouldn't, anyway.

Chapter FIVE
    I was less sure ten minutes later when I walked through my own front door. Bret and Deb were arguing at the kitchen table and Blue yipped and snapped grumpily at my calf when I accidentally stepped on his toe.
    Bret's laugh, Blue's yip and Deb's angry "Goddammit, Bret" seemed to blend in a hectic cacophony; my little house, usually a peaceful sanctuary, felt like a zoo.
    Soothing Blue down first, I rubbed his ears and told him I hadn't done it on purpose.
    Bret was still chuckling. "Did he draw blood?"
    I shook my head. "He never does."
    Deb was staring at me in astonishment. "Why in the world would you want to own a dog that would bite you?"
    Still rubbing Blue's head, I answered the question as honestly as I could. "I like his personality. He's ornery and stubborn and independent and smart as a whip. It's sort of like having a pet coyote. He's interesting."
    Deb obviously didn't see anything appealing in an ornery, stubborn, smart dog, so I quit trying to explain. "He's my friend. Hi, Deb," I added.
    A tall girl with short, spiky dark red hair that she wore in wildly tousled styles, big green eyes, a slight dusting of freckles, and a figure that could have graced the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue, Deb was normally an outspoken, friendly extrovert. At the moment, she looked mad as hell.
    "Hi, Gail." She gave me a stormy smile and turned back to Bret with the air of someone writing off a bad investment. "And if you think you can walk back in any old time and keep living rent-free with me while you go out in the evening picking up women, you can think again."
    Having fired that off, she sent another apologetic smile and a "see you later" my way and headed for the door without another word or look at Bret.
    He watched her go, looking relieved, I noted, not distressed. My heart sank a little. It was a good bet he was going to want to stay for a while.
    Settling myself at the table where Deb had been, I counted