was growing and she was thrilled about that.
There were still some wildflowers, the five-foot borders around each of the large clover and alfalfa fields, in late fall bloom. The bees were flying and making their last honey for the year. Cari left half the honey in each hive, taking only half for commercial purposes. This time, no hive would starve for lack of honey.
Since returning from California, her whole life had changed in so many ways. Her body tingled in memory of earlier this morning, waking up, turning over and sliding into Chase’s arms, kissing him awake, exploring his hard, magnificent body naked against hers. Just thinking about it made her want him all over again.
She heard the crunch of gravel and looked up. There was a part of her still on guard, even though Dirk was now in prison once more, in solitary confinement twenty-three hours a day, with one hour out in the yard for exercise. She had been able to visit her mother a month later after the crash, spending a week with her. It had been a tearful, happy reunion. Her stepfather had apologized profusely for Dirk’s behavior, and she took the apology graciously. Sometimes, there were souls who were born into this world, she thought, that were damaged beyond repair when they came in. Her stepfather was as kind as her real father had been, clearly in love with her mother. Cari knew he’d suffered just as much as they had in a different way. No parent likes to think they created a murderer. It was a load he would carry until the day he died, although to Cari’s mind, he wasn’t the one who made Dirk the way he was. His real mother had been a drug addict all her life, and she wondered if Dirk hadn’t taken a great deal of abuse from her.
Life, to her, was always an ongoing mystery, a Pandora’s box of good and bad, sweet and sour. Right now, her life was sweet as honey and filled with nonstop happiness.
Straightening, she saw a ranch pickup parking behind hers on the dirt road below. A slight breeze made some of the last leaves on the deciduous trees take off and fly like birds for a moment. She enjoyed watching them dance and twirl on the invisible currents.
Lifting her hand as Chase placed his black Stetson on his head, he waved to her and he climbed the slight knoll toward her.
“Is anything wrong?” she asked, wondering why he was out here at this time of day. Generally, he was in his office all morning and it was in the afternoon that he made his trips by truck around the huge ranch. She thought how darkly tanned he’d become throughout the summer. And he had a blue chambray shirt on, sleeves rolled up to below his elbows, a pair of elk-skin gloves sticking out of his back pocket.
“No,” he said, coming up beside her, sliding his arm around her waist, dropping a kiss on her smiling lips. “I just wanted to see you, is all,” he murmured against them, and then released her.
“It was a very nice way to wake up this morning,” she said, moving to the next hive to check it out. Theresa and her family had winterized them in the past three weeks. He followed her. “Did you get lonely?” she teased, kneeling down, checking the cedar on the concrete, making sure there was no wood rot, and there wasn’t.
“Oh, sort of,” he said.
She stood up, giving him a quizzical look. “You’re up to something, Chase Bishop. What is it?” She put her hands on her hips. She swore she saw his cheeks redden, but couldn’t be sure because she was facing the sun.
“Busted,” he groused, and then gave her a shy, boyish look.
She saw him pull something out of the pocket of his chambray shirt pocket and frowned, waiting to see what was in his hand.
He cleared his throat a little nervously and held a dark blue box in the palm of his left hand. Meeting and holding her questioning gaze, he rasped, “I know it hasn’t been long, but I thought . . . well . . . maybe this was a good time,” and he fumbled with the box, his fingers large and not adapted well to small, delicate jobs such as prying open the top of the tiny blue box.
Cari stared down as he opened the box. There, nestled in blue velvet, were two gold