were trying to kill each other. After throwing a few punches—and an impact wrench—Larry Breelan was spending the night in a cell. Deputy Thomas was on duty to make sure neither of Larry’s younger brothers tried to bust him out. Or tried to sneak in and murder him, depending on their mood.
Gayle Trent shook her head. “Out to eat again? When was the last time these poor girls had a home-cooked meal?”
Lifelong respect for his mother kept him from rolling his eyes at her dramatic tone, but just barely. “I made them fruit-face pancakes for breakfast. And two nights ago we had dinner at your house. With Jace and William,” he reminded her. She’d spent so much conversational energy trying to fix up Cole with various single women that she might not have noticed his brothers were even there.
She continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “Speaking of home-cooked meals... Do you remember my friend Joan who owns the little farm down by Whippoorwill Creek? We’re in quilting club together and she’s signed up to help me inventory donations for the festival auction.” The four-day Watermelon Festival every July was one of the town’s biggest annual events.
Cole had an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. From the gleam in his mother’s eye, she clearly wanted something, and he doubted it was for him to donate an item to auction.
He cleared his throat. “Girls, why don’t you go brush your hair and find your shoes so we can leave?” As they scampered off to the far-flung corners of the house to search for the shoes that were always mysteriously disappearing, he returned his attention to his mother, as wary as if he were investigating suspicious noises in a dark alley. “So, what’s this about your friend Joan?”
“Her granddaughter, who used to summer here as a kid, is moving to Cupid’s Bow with her son. We thought it would be neighborly if you and the girls joined us at the farm for a nice Sunday dinner tomorrow. Joan’s inviting other people, too. It’s a welcome party,” she added, “not a romantic setup.”
“Would you swear to that during a polygraph test?”
“Are you calling your own mother a liar?” she asked, looking highly wounded while evading his question. “Not everything is about your love life, you know. Joan’s great-grandson won’t have many chances to meet kids until school starts again in the fall. I’m sure he’d love to meet the girls. And they’d have fun, too. They were bored silly cooped up in the house with me all afternoon. Joan’s farm is like a petting zoo.”
“Mom, I—”
The cordless phone on the end table rang, temporarily cutting off his words. Gayle glanced at the display, then smirked in his direction. “Becca Johnston.”
His stomach sank at mention of the PTA president who’d been relentlessly pursuing him since her divorce was finalized. “Tell her I’m not here.”
“And I can also tell Joan you’ll be there for the dinner party tomorrow?” Without waiting for his response, she picked up the phone. “Hello? Oh, hi, Becca.” She paused pointedly, one eyebrow raised.
Later, he and his mom were going to discuss the laws prohibiting extortion. For now, he gave a sharp nod, exiting the room to change into civilian clothes and get his girls out of there before his mother talked him into anything else.
Behind him, he heard Gayle say, “Sorry, dear. You just missed him.”
* * *
“WE’RE GOING TO live out here?” Luke’s voice reverberated with horror as he stared through the passenger window.
The movie he’d been watching on his tablet had ended a few minutes ago and he seemed to be truly registering their surroundings for the first time. During the peaceful stretch when he’d had his earbuds in, Kate had taken the opportunity to remind herself of all the reasons this relocation was going to be wonderful for them. Sure, Kate didn’t have a job yet—and Cupid’s Bow Elementary wasn’t exactly a rapidly growing school—but she still had paychecks coming through the summer. She could give voice lessons or piano lessons if she got Gram’s old upright tuned.
“Yep.” She smiled at the picturesque pastures and blue skies. It was after six o’clock, but the June sun was shining brightly. “No traffic, no constant city construction—”
“No internet connection, no cell phone reception,” Luke predicted.
“That’s not true. Last time I visited Gram, I used my cell phone.” She didn’t volunteer the information that she’d had to stand with one foot in the laundry room and the other on the attached porch, leaning forty-five degrees to the left while holding on to the dryer. Maybe service had improved since then.
“This is the middle of nowhere! Nobody could possibly live here.”
She jerked a thumb toward the side of the road. “The mailboxes suggest otherwise.” She appreciated that the mailboxes they’d passed were spread out at roomy intervals. They’d had a nice enough home in the suburbs, but the yards were so small that when Damon used to throw a football with Luke, they spent half their time knocking on the neighbor’s door to retrieve the ball from the fenced backyard.
“You’re going to love it here,” she told Luke. “Lots of community spirit and camaraderie, plenty of home-cooking and fresh air.”
He rolled down his window, inhaled deeply, then grimaced. “The fresh air smells like cow poop.”
She ground her teeth, refusing to let him spoil her mood. He’ll come around with time. Her first victory might even be as soon as tonight. Gram could cook like nobody’s business, and Luke was a growing boy. A couple of helpings of chicken-fried steak or slow-cooked brisket should improve his outlook on life.
They’d be at the farm in twenty minutes. As eager as Kate was to get there, when she spotted the gas station down the road—the last one before Gram’s place—she knew she should stop. The fuel gauge was dropping perilously close to E. Plus, it might be good for her and Luke to get out of the car and stretch their legs for a few minutes.
While she pumped gas, Luke disappeared inside to use the restroom. Although she’d lived her entire life in Texas, sometimes the heat still caught Kate by surprise. Even in the shade, she broke a sweat. She tugged at the lightweight material of her sleeveless blouse to keep it from sticking to her damp skin, then lifted her hair away from her neck, making a mental note to look for an elastic band when she got back in the car.
While waiting for Luke, she went into the station and bought a couple of cold beverages. She’d barely pocketed her change before twisting the lid off her chilled bottle of water and taking a long drink. If Luke didn’t hurry, she might finish her water and start in on the fountain soda she held in her other hand.
He was taking a long time, and she wouldn’t put it past him to stall in a mulish display of rebellion. She turned with the intention of knocking on the door and hurrying him along, but then stopped herself. Half of parenting was picking one’s battles. They’d be at Gram’s soon, and her grandmother hadn’t seen Luke in months. Was this really the right time to antagonize him? She didn’t want him arriving at the farm surly and hostile. A smooth first night might prove to all of them that this could work.
Quit hovering, go to the car. She pivoted with renewed purpose. And crashed into a wall that hadn’t been there a moment ago. Okay, technically, the wall was a broad-shouldered man at least six inches taller than she. He wore jeans and a white polo shirt—which was a lot less white with
