drive.
“I have to go.” She gave the latch a hard jiggle, and this time succeeded in opening the door. Once outside, she hightailed it to her car. “I’ll give you a call about visiting Kolt.”
As abruptly as she’d reappeared in Luke’s life, she’d just as efficiently exited. Question was—why?
“I HATE THIS CAMP and this hick town,” Kolt announced that afternoon upon entering the car. “When can we go home?”
“This is our home,” Daisy said with forced cheer that was getting harder and harder to summon. Navigating Weed Gulch Community Center’s traffic was no easy feat. At Kolt’s previous camps, along with his friends, he’d been picked up and delivered.
Like a pizza.
Another reason for the move—beyond the obvious of having Kolt finally get to know his father and her family—was so Daisy could spend more time with him, as well. The faster her career had grown, the more she’d relied on paying strangers to raise her son.
“I was IM-ing Warren last night, and he and Phillip are going to spend the rest of the summer at Warren’s beach house. Why can’t I go with them?”
“Because you’re going to have a great time here…. Just as soon as I figure out how to get around this busted piece of crap blocking our way.” When honking her horn did nothing but make the driver in front of her slow all the more, Daisy sighed. Why had she moved back to this town? Oh, yeah, to reconnect with the family who now barely spoke to her.
“But going to the beach would be way more fun than the crap I’m doing here.”
“Did you learn that word today?” She finally had room to pass and gunned the powerful engine.
“No. But since you just said it, why can’t I?”
“Because I said so.” Traffic around the feed store slowed to a crawl. Were they giving away free samples of cattle chow?
“That’s not a good reason. Last time I said that, you told me a judge would never allow that in court.”
“Sweetie,” she said through gritted teeth, “just this once, please do as I say, and not as I do.”
“Okay,” he agreed, “but since you really didn’t even do anything, then—”
The driver of a forest-green Jeep waiting to make a left out of the feed store’s lot honked at her, casually waving his hand out his window.
“Mom, isn’t that Luke?”
Unfortunately, yes.
She’d gone to his cabin with the intention of telling him everything—about why she’d left, about Henry. How terrified she’d been of the man following through with the threats to hurt her family. Instead, she’d been so flustered by petty bickering and plain old sexual tension she hadn’t been able to think, let alone bare her soul.
“AVOIDING ME?” Thirty minutes later, when Daisy opened the front door of Buckhorn Ranch’s main house, Luke removed his hat and rummaged his hands through his hair.
“O-of course not,” she said, stepping out onto the covered front porch and shutting the door. “Why would you think that?”
“Back in town I waved. I saw you had Kolt with you and thought we might grab a malt or something, but you sped off like a spring twister was dogging your heels.”
“Was that you?” She flashed him her brightest smile. “Truthfully, I was so fed up with traffic, I hardly even noticed.” Laughing, she added, “I grabbed a few things from the store for Mom, picked up Kolt from the day camp I enrolled him in and then hightailed it back here for peace and quiet.”
“Why’d you do that? Stick him in a stupid camp when I’d like nothing better than to spend time with him?”
“Good question. One I wish I had an answer for.”
Luke had always appreciated honesty, but in this case he might’ve preferred that Daisy lie. “What’s that mean?”
“I don’t even know.” Taking him by his arm, she dragged him toward the swing. Honeysuckle growing up the side of the house damn near choked him with cloying sweetness. With not a breath of wind, it had to be pushing a hundred if not more. The house’s central air-conditioning unit kicked on with a low hum. “He’s doing great here at home, but I want him to meet boys his own age. He hasn’t mentioned you, and I’m not sure what that means.”
“Ouch.” His denim-covered thigh brushed hers. She wore shorts. His memory told him the inside of her creamy thighs felt like satin to his work-roughened palms. Needing to stay focused on the topic at hand, he asked, “How ’bout taking a stab