of ruffled petticoat. The dress was red, the petticoat black, yet the sunny smile of the woman wearing them had him thinking of church choirs.
Hell. At the sight of all that skin, he knew something of his was rising up and ready to belt out a hymn anyway.
"Oh, good," she said, sliding into the seat opposite him. "You're early too."
Every instinct on alert, he regarded her warily. He didn't trust chameleons, and Kitty's ability to go from harlot to farm girl and back again was unnerving. Interesting, but unnerving.
His mind flashed to that woman - Kitty's mother! - striding through the darkness. Definitely interesting.
"Kitty?" There was a wealth of surprise, and maybe disapproval, in Pearl's voice as she walked up to their table, steaming coffeepot in hand. "Are you ... are you sitting here with Dylan?"
"Of course," Dylan answered for Kitty. Puzzled, he glanced between the two women and noted the faint flush crawling up Kitty's neck. He narrowed his eyes. "What would you like to order?" he asked her.
Kitty's shoulders squared. "Just coffee, Pearl. Thank you."
The older woman's brows rose, and she filled the cup sitting in front of Kitty with an almost belligerent air. Dylan remembered that Pearl was known for her uncompromising manner, but this was something else entirely.
Kitty gave her a swift smile, then focused her attention on doctoring the black stuff with a dollop of cream and the contents of three packets of sugar. By the time she was stirring the ghastly concoction she'd made, Pearl had moved on.
"What was that about?" Dylan asked.
"That?" Kitty picked up the cup between both hands. Her lips, unpainted but lush, went into a full pucker as she blew on the coffee.
Dylan's hands involuntarily squeezed his own mug. She blew again. "Oh. You mean Pearl?" One bare shoulder lifted. "She's usually okay to me, but now I gather she's unhappy that her husband has become a regular at Bum Luck."
"That place is reopened?" It had been a biker hangout when he was a kid, and the way he remembered it, the whole town had breathed a sigh of relief when the bar closed.
"Mmm." Kitty sipped at her coffee and sighed with pleasure.
Dylan's hands squeezed again. "Still," he said, trying to refocus, "what does that have to do with you?"
She gazed into her cup. "It's my mother who reopened the place."
The image of the blond woman popped into his mind again. Kitty had her mother's height and straight-arrow posture, but while the older Wilder was undeniably beautiful, she lacked the arresting and innocent prettiness of her daughter. He shook his head. "I repeat, what does that have to do with you?"
Kitty's bare, smooth-skinned shoulder shrugged again; then she lifted her eyes and met his gaze. "You know how it is in Hot Water. The past, the present, the mother, the daughter - we're all inextricably coiled."
She was right. It was the town's charm and it was its bane. It was why he'd left and it was what he missed most. He found himself half smiling. "I tried to explain that to Honor Witherspoon, though I'm not sure she believed me."
Kitty's blue eyes were back on her coffee. "Is that right?"
He remembered the darkness, the palpable taste of Honor's fear. She'd been alone for two weeks when he'd joined her in captivity, and he'd calmed her while they waited for rescue by spinning stories about Hot Water. She'd been distracted, then fascinated by his description of small-town life. To his surprise, he'd not been able to get the place out of his mind since. It was as if, once released, the memories refused to return to the dim corner where he'd shoved them when he left Hot Water.
"Honor was scared shitless after two weeks with the kidnappers," he said. "We thought they'd go for the exchange - well, it was worth a try anyhow - but the bastards reneged and threw me in the cellar with her."
"She was kept in a cellar?"
He chuckled dryly. "It was a wine cellar, if that makes you feel any better. But as you can imagine, she was pretty shook by the time I showed up on the scene." Still, she'd struck him as a beautiful woman, one he might have been interested in if he hadn't met her in his role as rescuer. Yet even after their release, he hadn't felt anything more than brotherly toward Honor. "She whacked me with a magnum of champagne."
"No!" Kitty let out a little laugh. "I know I shouldn't