Summer Nights (Fool's Gold #8)(33)

“So, you’re a friend of Annabelle’s,” Alfred, or maybe Albert, said to Shane. “She’s a pretty lady.”

“Yes, she is.”

Beady dark eyes stared into his. “You best not take advantage of her, boy.” Thick, white eyebrows twitched menacingly. “She’s special and while my brother and I aren’t as young as we used to be, we can still shoot a squirrel a quarter of a mile away. You get my drift?”

Shane nodded, not sure if he should believe the old guy, but not willing to test the theory.

“Unless you intend to marry her,” his new friend said with a tooth-gapped guffaw. “Which I’d say makes you a lucky bastard. She’s a looker. And has good taste in reading. Don’t know if she can cook, though.”

Shane held up both hands. “Annabelle and I are friends.”

“Bullshit. There’s a man and a woman and there’s being dead. Not much in between. My Elizabeth and I have been married seventy-two years. You think we save ourselves for Saturday night?”

That clear definition of too much information was accompanied by an elbow nudge and a wink. Shane took a step back, tried to smile and wondered if anyone would notice if he simply turned and jogged down the road, back to town. It was maybe ten or fifteen miles. He should be motivated enough to do that with no problem.

“Albert, come look at what I brought. I found a new author I think you’re really going to like.”

Twenty minutes later, his stomach protesting the moonshine Alfred had insisted he sample, Shane leaned his head back against the passenger seat of her car and closed his eyes.

“How did you find them in the first place?” he asked.

“They called the library one day last summer and asked if someone could bring them some books. That there was too much traffic in the city for them to feel comfortable driving there.”

“Sure. Because Fool’s Gold has what? Eight traffic lights?”

She laughed. “It’s probably a lot to them. I think the brothers come down the mountain three or four times a year. It’s a different world, but they’re good people.”

Easy for her to say. She hadn’t been threatened by a horny man pushing a hundred.

“I don’t think I want to meet any of your other library patrons,” he told her.

She laughed. “Don’t worry. You’ll like Ava. She’s lovely. A computer programmer who has MS. She gets to the library when she can, but when her MS acts up, it’s easier for me to bring books to her.”

“A computer programmer who doesn’t read

ebooks?”

“Some people prefer the feel of paper in their hands. It’s a tactile thing.”

He could relate to being tactile, but not about a book.

* * *

ANNABELLE HELD OUT THE small gift bag she’d brought with her. “I know casseroles are traditional, but I’m not the greatest cook so bringing one was risky.”

Montana held open the front door to her house and laughed. “If you could see my freezer, you would so not be apologizing for anything that isn’t edible. Seriously, we have enough food to last until 2021. I had to send casseroles home with both my sisters and my mom.” She hugged Annabelle. “Thanks for coming.”

“Thank you for inviting me.”

Montana glanced in the bag, then looked up, her brown eyes bright with excitement. “Really?”

“Her new summer trilogy on audio. I thought you could listen while you did the baby thing.”

“You’re so thoughtful. Thank you. Please—come in.”

Annabelle stepped into the large house. Sunlight poured in front of the second-story window above the double door. Hardwood floors gleamed. The foyer led to a large living room, with a dining room big enough to seat twenty off to the left. Even so, the house had a homey feel. Despite the size of the rooms, Annabelle sensed there was plenty of love to fill every corner.

Montana led her past the formal living room, through a restaurant-size kitchen and into a bright family room. Little Skye lay in a bassinet, her tiny hands waving when she saw her mom.

Annabelle felt her chest tighten a little at the sight of the infant. She didn’t consider herself overly maternal, but she’d always thought she would have a family someday. Her divorce had put those dreams on hold. Now she had to figure out a way to resurrect them again.

“How’s motherhood?” she asked as Montana got each of them a glass of iced tea. “Are you sleeping?”

“No, but I’m napping, so that helps.”

They walked into the family room and settled on the large sectional. Montana stared at her daughter and smiled.

“The new mother thing is terrifying, but just when I think I can’t take it or don’t know what to do, someone stops by to visit or calls and gets me through it. Mom is great. She had six, so if anyone knows what she’s doing, it’s her.”

Annabelle nodded, doing her best to only feel happy for Montana and not sad for herself.

She always heard that during a divorce, parents argued about who was allowed to see the children more. In her case, her parents had fought about who got stuck with her. Neither had wanted custody and she had a feeling if there had been a way to return her to sender, they would have done it.

The baby waved her arms again. Montana glanced at Annabelle. “Want to hold her?”