of us sweaty and covered with dirt?”
“Hell, yeah.” His chuckle rumbled through his chest. “As long as it’s you and me, I don’t give a damn about where we are. And I like the idea of getting dirty with you, babe.”
His lips took possession of mine again, and neither of us said a word for quite a long time.
And if I remembered Deacon at all, I pushed away that thought as fast and as hard as I could.
13
Deacon
“Since when do we have goats on this farm?” I looked up at Gram, who was standing on the porch steps grinning down on me. My ass was in the sparse grass, and five baby goats romped around me, each one vying for my attention.
“Blame Emma!” Gram chuckled. “She and Pop got to talking one night, and she told him about how she wanted to eventually have chickens and goats, but she doesn’t feel she can handle them on her place yet, since the hospital takes up so much of her time. Next thing I knew, your grandfather was offering to get goats that the two of them can share, with the understanding that we’ll house them here, and Emma will participate in their care and support, too.”
“Huh.” I reached out to stroke the bumpy head of one of the babies, and he butted against my hand. “If I were the insecure sort, I’d wonder if maybe Emma was replacing me as your favorite.”
Gram smiled at me sunnily. “And if you were the smart sort, you wouldn’t have let her get away from you, so that wouldn’t even matter. As it is . . .” She arched an eyebrow at me. “I’d say you have some competition, Deacon. Emma’s just a lovely young woman, and Pop and I are happy that she’s in our life.”
I rolled my eyes. “Just remember who’s been working on this farm pretty much since birth. And remember who’s your blood family.”
“I’d never forget that.” Gram picked up her watering can and began seeing to the plants hanging from hooks on the porch. “How’re things going at the hospital these days? A little calmer?”
I swallowed back a smartass response that would’ve earned me a swat on the back of my head. “Yes, everything’s great. Running smoothly.”
“Good to hear. I saw that article in the paper about the study Emma was part of, the one that got written up. That’s got to be a positive thing for St. Agnes.” Gram glanced down at me. “I hope you congratulated her and told her that you were pleased with her work.”
An image of Emma from the night that I’d let her know about the paper popped into my head. I saw her again with her eyes half-closed, her lips parted and her body arched toward me. I heard the sound of her moan, pure sex and naked desire. I tasted her lips, the lingering sweetness of the champagne . . .
“Yeah.” I coughed. “I told her. I offered the congratulations on behalf of the hospital and the board.”
“I’m glad to hear it. And you two . . . you’re getting along all right at work?”
“Sure. It’s all fine. We’re very professional.” Actually, things were better between the two of us since that night. Not better in the way that I might have hoped—there was no kissing, no touching, no secret smiles as we passed in the hall—but easier in that we were both behaving professionally. We’d been doing rounds together again on occasion, and we’d met to work out the details of George Brewer’s new chemo protocol. The animosity that had lingered between us had dissipated, but it had been replaced by something else—my increasingly difficult to ignore desire for Emma, and her steadfast refusal to acknowledge it.
“That’s a lucky thing, because she’s coming out here today.” Gram dropped the watering can onto the porch floor with a loud kerplunk. “Sissie wanted to see the goats, and she and I have been overdue for a good visit, but she hasn’t been feeling well enough to drive out here. Emma offered to bring her to the farm after she did rounds today.”
I frowned. Emma and I had been alternating rounds on weekends, and today was her turn to be on duty. I wished that she’d let me know she was planning to come out to see my grandparents, though—and I felt unreasonably annoyed that she was going to drive Miss Sissie, too.
“I would have been happy to drive Miss Sissie out to the