Delaney's Sunrise. Rhonda Lee Carver

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      Feeling refreshed, she bounded downstairs. Mrs. Graves was working in the kitchen. Dee glanced across the room, admiring the modern stainless steel appliances and new cherry wood cabinetry. It was about time Abe got rid of the old stove and dated decor. This was a kitchen she could create culinary art in.

      “Hello, Mrs. Graves.”

      Mrs. Graves glanced up from kneading dough, gave Dee a brisk nod, then continued to pound the tan blob on the counter with a wooden rolling pin.

      Dee leaned against the cutter-board island, glancing across the mound of sliced apples, a variety of spices and a bowl of butter. “Those apples smell delicious.”

      Pausing again, Mrs. Graves brushed a loose curl off her forehead. “They’re from the trees in the grove. Apple is Abe’s favorite pie.” A hint of a smile lifted the corner of her thin mouth, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

      How could she forget apple was Abe’s favorite? She’d made him more than one pie while she lived on the farm. “Well, I’d be happy to lend a hand. Apple pie is one of my specialties.” She stole a piece of apple and popped it into her mouth. The crisp, sweet and juicy fruit brought her taste buds alive as her mind conjured up an array of recipes she could create with them. Recipes to seduce a man right out of his boots. She cleared her throat–and her mind. “I bet these make great pies.”

      With a tired sigh, the older woman shook her head. “With all due respect, Ms. Crawford, I enjoy working alone.”

      A tinge of hurt tugged at her heart. She understood some people enjoyed baking because it relaxed them, but the other woman’s cool attitude had nothing to do with anything so simple.

      Stepping back from the countertop, Dee straightened her back and dredged up a smile. “If you change your mind, let me know. Maybe you’d share a few secrets on how you roll your dough without tearing it.”

      With that, Dee left her alone.

      * * * *

      In the barn, Abe grabbed another beer from the cooler and struck the cap against a wooden beam. The top popped off and twirled through the air, landing in the cooler with a clink. He smiled as he brought the long neck to his lips and guzzled half before settling onto his favorite makeshift seat: a bale of hay.

      A cold brew never tasted better than when in his special place, which just happened to be the horse barn. He needed a buzz this evening. He could use a smoke too, but never lit up in the barn, and didn’t want to venture outdoors just yet.

      He cursed himself for picking up the habit again after dropping it nearly seven years ago. Another bad habit to add to the long list he’d accumulated over the last few months. He blamed Dee for almost every single one of them.

      Running his fingers through his hair, he made a mental note to get a trim. His entire schedule had been screwed since Dee had said she was coming. He hadn’t been able to concentrate on anything but the idea that she’d be living at the farm. He shook as he remembered his anger when he’d finished the letter.

      She had no right to be here. He couldn’t care less if a piece of paper stated she owned half his land.

      No one, not even the law, could make her presence acceptable.

      “You out here hidin’?”

      Abe frowned as Mitch Goody, his friend and farm hand, ducked through the doorway. “I’m not hiding.”

      “Got your company, I see,” Mitch said in his slow Texas drawl.

      “Buddy, the term ‘company’ implies she’s welcome.” Abe grabbed an unopened beer from the cooler and tossed it to Mitch. “Pull up a bale. Bet you could use a cold one, too.”

      “I believe I’ll do that.” Mitch settled onto the bale.

      “Are the cows looking good?” Abe asked.

      After taking a long draw from the bottle, Mitch nodded. “They’re working out fine on the north end.” Mitch removed his black Stetson and scratched his thick mane of sandy curls. “Your unwelcome guest settling in okay?”

      “Dammit!” Abe swore; Mitch jerked. Abe jabbed a thumb toward the house. “I’m a stranger in my own home.” His anger, which had just begun to ebb, swelled again. “I can’t even relax in my own bed.”

      The black stallion in the farthest stall whinnied as he dug a hoof at the ground.

      “It’s okay, Danger. She’s too afraid of horses to come anywhere close to the barn.” Abe chuckled. He was safe here.

      Mitch slid him a curious glance. “Would you be sittin’ around in that big ol’ house right now?”

      “If I wanted to, I couldn’t,” he said.

      Mitch broke into laughter. Abe snorted. The situation wasn’t the slightest bit funny. He finished off his beer. He was done for the night. He had to get up early in the morning, and the last thing he needed was a hangover on top of his troubles. His mare Sally came to the edge of her stall and neighed softly, tapping her foot. Abe laughed. “Don’t you start with me too, old girl.”

      Mitch pushed his hat back on his head and shrugged a broad shoulder. “In my family, Abe, we stick together. Dee is your family.”

      Abe bit back a scowl. His idea of family wasn’t a woman who weaseled her way into his property. “She’s not family. She was engaged to my brother. That doesn’t make her blood thicker than water, my friend.”

      He’d only briefly discussed Dee with Mitch. A man didn’t need to air his troubles to everyone, not even good friends.

      Mitch shook his head and said, “That sounded a lot like bitterness, pal. She didn’t betray Jacob, did she?”

      Abe narrowed his eyes. “Why do you ask that?”

      Mitch shrugged. “Somethin’s ruffled your feathers.”

      Abe leaned his back against the rough wood and thought back five years. “No, she didn’t betray him,” he answered softly. “But two months don’t make her family.” He held up two fingers. “Two. Anyway, whose side are you on?”

      “Yours, partner. Or,” there was a long pause, “maybe not.”

      Abe raised his head. “What?” He stared at Mitch, who froze with his bottle caught in midair and eyes rounded. “What’s wrong with you?” Abe followed Mitch’s stare to the open barn door.

      Dee stood in the doorway, her fists planted on her hips, her lips pursed accusingly.

      “Oh, shit,” Abe whispered.

      “Am I interrupting?” Dee took the first step across the threshold of his private zone.

      There went his space.

      “Hell yes.” Abe shook his head. He caught Mitch ogling Dee appreciatively and wanted to clock him in the jaw. “Can’t a man have a beer in peace?” he asked.

      “Are you expecting an СКАЧАТЬ