The Summer Place - By Pamela Hearon Page 0,40

try to get the family together. “We haven’t seen you in a month.”

“Or maybe you could all come here and help.” Rick cringed. Had he really just suggested a week with his dad? The elder Warren would pull him off work detail and insist he go see that shrink in Paducah, sure as hell.

“Sorry, sweetheart, but we have a couples’ tournament at the club that week.”

Whew! Dodged that bullet.

“Well, I’ll come home sometime in August. I promise.”

“I’ll think some more on the project you have there. You know, I love that you’re taking the Realtor role more seriously. You haven’t shown much enthusiasm toward it until now.”

“The Delaneys are nice people. They helped me when I needed it. I want to return the favor.”

“And what about the daughter? Summer, isn’t it? Made any progress there toward getting along?”

“Um, yeah, you could say that.” Rick felt his face heat.

“Oh, my goodness! I hear the smile in your voice from here.”

Rick gave an embarrassed laugh. “We’ve made peace. We’ll leave it at that.”

“Oh, no, we won’t leave it at that. But we’ll have to leave it at that for right now because I’m showing the Eldrige place in twenty minutes.” Rick heard the door to the garage close and a car door open. “You call me back when we both have time to talk, you hear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Rick answered. “Love you, Mom.”

“Love you, too, sweetheart.”

As he hung up, a sound from behind alerted him that someone was approaching. He closed the folder quickly, lest it be the fairy princess herself. But it turned out to be Kenny.

“You need to get some rest.” He gave the security guard a once-over, taking in the heavy eyelids and dark circles. “You’ve had a long night.”

Did his own eyes look as tired as Kenny’s? Last night, the nightmare had been especially vicious. What started out as Kenny over his shoulder soon became his brother Luke before morphing into Dunk. Like being with the kids, carrying Kenny through the storm had triggered strong memories—and fears. He blinked to clear his thoughts and finished off the coffee in his cup.

It was almost noon on Saturday. The insurance adjuster had just left, and even the woman’s promise to get Kenny a check “very soon” couldn’t shake the security guard’s glum mood.

“Go on,” Rick urged. “A good, long sleep will help you more than anything.”

Kenny yawned, his whole body shuddering in response. “Maybe you’re right.”

He sauntered away toward Rick’s cabin as the sheriff’s car pulled in.

Sheriff Buck Blaine ambled out of the car, adjusting his holster belt, which anchored his pants firmly beneath the roll of his large belly. “Well, if it isn’t Rick Warren as I live and breathe.”

Rick’s mood lightened when he shook the hand of his old friend. “How you doing, Buck? It’s good to see you.”

“Good to see you, too.” Buck clapped him on the back as they exchanged their handshake. “Heard you was stickin’ around these parts for a while, and I was sure proud to hear it. Paducah would do well to hang on to the likes of you.”

Ever since they’d worked together on the Brennans’ cave rescue operation a few years ago, Buck had treated Rick like he hung the moon. Rick found it embarrassing but tolerated it because he knew Buck’s praise was genuine and not given lightly.

“I’m glad to still be here,” Rick answered. “I actually hope something opens up soon that’ll allow me to stay for good.”

Paducah, Kentucky, had been a good match for him. It reminded him of his home in Arkansas—he noticed Summer watching him and Buck from a short distance away—and the saying about Kentucky’s fast horses and pretty women seemed to be more truth than tale. “Summer—” he motioned her over “—this is Buck Blaine, the Marshall County sheriff.”

“Hi, Buck.” Summer extended her hand and flashed a disarming smile.

“Glad to meet you, little lady.” Buck looked around, his eyebrows drawing together in feigned concern. “Rumor has it y’all have a camp for kids going here. You got ’em stashed away in a closet?”

Summer didn’t miss a beat. Her face grew somber, but a telltale, mischievous glint appeared in her eye. “Yeah.” She shrugged. “But the sleeping bags add an authentic camping experience. We open the door and throw in some trail mix every six hours.”

Buck popped his chewing gum and gave Rick a lopsided grin. “Got your hands full with this one, huh?”

Summer’s laugh tinkled pleasantly in Rick’s ear. It was a nice sound—soft and feminine—and

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