Daisies in the Canyon(24)

I told you not to shit in your nest, her inner voice reminded her.

“Earth to Abby,” Cooper said.

“What?”

“You asked what I was doing here. I was talking, but you were a million miles away.” Cooper pointed at the brush pile. “Rusty called and wanted an opinion about burning this pile of brush. It’s polite to call the neighbor if you’re about to set fire to something this close to his ranch.”

“Fire?” Bonnie asked.

That single word caused Abby to remember the heat of his hands as they roamed over her body, the warmth of those few minutes of afterglow, and the way her heart raced every time his hand touched hers.

“Hey.” Cooper reached across the fence and touched her on the arm. “Are you okay?”

“I was just wondering why we needed to burn all this,” she said a little too quickly. Hopefully, he didn’t feel the delicious little shiver his hand had caused to flutter through her whole body.

Rusty sat down on the biggest log in the pile and nodded toward the brush pile. “It would take years for this to rot and go back to dirt. We’ll start the burn after dinner and it should be down to embers by evening. There’ll be four of us keeping it from spreading and the wind is still so it shouldn’t spark, Cooper.”

“I’ll come on back and help after I get off work, barring any catastrophic thing at the courthouse,” Cooper said.

“I’d appreciate all the help you want to give.” Rusty checked the time on his cell phone. “Hey, it looks like it’s dinnertime. Shiloh was putting a roast in the oven when we left. You might as well come on up to the house and eat with us, Coop.”

“I never turn down a home-cooked meal and it is my lunch hour. See you in a few minutes.” Cooper jumped the fence the same way he had before and Abby bit down so hard on the lemon drop that it shattered in her mouth.

You’ve tasted the fruit of the evil tree and it was pretty damn fine, but now you have to leave it alone, the voice in her head said. “Hush,” Abby said aloud.

“Are you talking to me?” Bonnie asked.

“I was arguing with the voices in my head,” Abby said.

“Happens to me all the time. You know what Jerry Clower said about that?”

Abby frowned. “Who?”

“The comedian Jerry Clower?”

“Yes, I do. He said that if you’re arguing with yourself, then you’re about to mess up,” Abby said.

“That’s right. Listen to the voices. They’re probably smarter than you think you are,” Bonnie said.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“I thought my grandparents were old-fashioned and downright mean to me, but believe me, when I listen to the memories in my head, they steer me right,” she said.

“And did they tell you to leave Kentucky and come to Texas?” Abby removed her gloves and followed Bonnie toward the truck.

“Damn straight, and they tell me every night not to let you run me off,” Bonnie said.

“Me? What about Shiloh?”

Bonnie shrugged. “She don’t intimidate the hell out of me like you do.”

Abby crawled up in the back of the truck and backed up to the cab before sitting down. She wasn’t about to tell Bonnie that she intimidated her, too.

If there was a pothole in the path back to the house, Rusty went out of his way to hit the damn thing. By the time he parked in the backyard, Abby was ready to tear down the blasted vehicle and change the shocks herself. She bailed out of the bed of the truck and saw the sheriff’s car sitting in the front yard.

Maybe that was the trick to the whole mistake—think of him as the sheriff and not as Cooper, the man who’d created such turmoil in her heart and life.

She’d pulled the stocking hat off and stuffed it into her jacket pocket. Now her hair was a mess, her face was dirty from piling up the twigs and limbs that had gotten past the blade on the front end of the tractor, and her pocket was empty of candy. That was enough to put any woman in a foul mood.

“Well, Mama, what would you tell me to do right now?” she whispered.

The voice in her head giggled.

The table was set for four, but Shiloh added another setting with a smile when Rusty told her that Cooper was joining them. She was dressed in cute little designer jeans and a Western shirt that she’d tied at the waist, showing an inch of taut belly when she reached for the salt and pepper. Her dark hair was pulled up in a messy bun on the top of her head and she wore white socks on her feet.

Abby went to the sink to wash her hands. “What have you done all day besides put a good meal on the table?”

“Cooked. Cleaned the living room and did my laundry. I figure we can each take a room that we are responsible for keeping clean. I’ll do the living room. You and Bonnie can fight over the kitchen and the bathroom. Oh, and talked to my mama. Have you called your mother since you’ve been here?” Shiloh asked.

“My mother died twelve years ago. I was eighteen and had just finished basic training,” Abby answered softly.

Shiloh laid a hand on her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Abby. I don’t know what I’d do without my mother. She’s been my support system my whole life—she and her sister, my aunt Audrey.”

“Thank you.” Abby’s hand went up to cover Shiloh’s. “Mama was mine until I lost her.”