Prescription For Love

Flann looped an arm around Abby’s shoulders and leaned into her, a sure sign she was in more pain than she wanted to admit. “How’s your suturing?”

“Very good, as a matter of fact.” Abby recognized Flann’s attempt to deflect her attention with humor. Flann was very good at hiding her feelings behind a cavalier attitude, but that wouldn’t work here. “However, I don’t plan on sewing you up here. It’ll be easier in the OR.”

“It would be, if there were a surgeon around to do it, but there won’t be. I’m telling you, you and I and Harper, probably my father and a couple other local GPs who can get in to the hospital, are going to be it tonight. We’ll be swamped. We’ve got two choices—either suture it now or pack it open and suture it later.”

“If we don’t close it right away,” Abby said, propping a cushion against the arm of the sofa for Flann’s head as Flann slowly stretched out, “the scarring will be much worse and there’s a greater chance it will get infected.”

“I agree. So like I said, let’s get suturing.”

Abby didn’t intend to commit herself until she had a better look at the wound. Flann’s reasoning wasn’t bad, but she didn’t altogether trust her motives. Flann was the macho type, and she’d likely risk her own well-being and certainly risk being in pain for the entire night if it meant she’d be able to work. Abby had handled plenty of patients like her, and part of her job was protecting them from themselves. Although she doubted anyone had much success with Flannery, she intended to win this contest.

She found an impermeable drape in the med kit and slid it under Flann’s thigh to protect the sofa. After donning another pair of gloves, she soaked gauze with more sterile saline, carefully cleaned around the wound, and pulsed saline into it from a sterile syringe. Flann tensed as she worked but said nothing, and Abby ignored the fist of anxiety in her middle. She stirred up a little bit of bleeding, but it wasn’t excessive, and as she got a better look at the wound, her unease lessened. “Is there any sensory loss in your calf or foot?”

“No numbness that I’ve noticed. The leg feels weak, but I think that’s just me in general.” Flann laughed. “I missed dinner.”

Abby smiled faintly. “The wound is down to muscle but nothing major seems involved. It’s deep and long and will hurt like hell if you try to stand on it tonight. You know that as well as I do.”

“I know.” Flann sighed. “Look, I’ll get off my feet as much as I can, if I can.”

“If you agree to that, I’ll suture this here. But I’ll want you to check in with me every few hours.”

“If I—”

Abby rose and folded her arms. “No ifs, Flann. You come by the ER every two hours and let me check you over, or I tell Harper you’re not fit for duty.”

Flann’s eyebrows rose. “That’s blackmail.”

Abby shrugged. “Take it or leave it.”

“Harper always has lidocaine in her emergency supplies. You’ll find a suture pack in there too.”

Abby turned away to hide her smile. She drew up local anesthetic, changed gloves, and after wiping down the periphery of the wound with Betadine, anesthetized the laceration. It took her half an hour to close the wound with several layers of suture. While she worked, Flann lay back with her eyes closed. “I thought you’d be supervising.”

Flann kept her eyes closed, but her lips curved into a smile. “I trust you.”

“Why?” Abby asked absently as she tied and snipped a suture. She loaded the needle holder with nylon for the skin and started a running suture to close the long laceration. “You’ve only seen me work that one time.”

“That’s all I needed to see.”

“I could have terrible hands, though.”

Flann laughed. “Do you?”

“No,” Abby said, suturing steadily. “I actually have good hands.”

“Then why aren’t you a surgeon?”

Abby smiled. “I like the variety in the ER. There’s more patient education involved too. And I like working with doctors whose egos don’t come through the door before they do.”

“Yours seems pretty healthy.”

Abby laughed. “You noticed.”

Flann opened her eyes at the same moment as Abby looked up at her. Flann’s eyes had lost their sheen of pain. They were dark and intense again, the intensity Abby was coming to like when turned on her. She stilled.

“I noticed a lot of things,” Flann said softly, each word a subtle caress. “I noticed you’re smart and strong and compassionate.”

“You forgot stubborn and controlling,” Abby said, her throat tight.

Flann grinned that damnably charming grin. “No, I didn’t. I just didn’t want to make you mad.”

Laughter threatening to bubble out, Abby pulled her gaze away and went back to work. Flann was too good at distracting her. “That’s probably smart considering your position right now.”

Flann pushed up on her elbows and surveyed her leg. She nodded. “Not bad. I’d put you at about a third-year resident level.”

“Oh, please,” Abby said, snipping the last suture. “That’s as good as half the attendings you work with, I bet.”

“Three-quarters, maybe.”

Secretly pleased, Abby found gauze and wrapped Flann’s leg with the circular bandage. “I still would not recommend standing on that.”

“If I don’t, I’ll have a tough time keeping my balance in the OR.”

Abby stripped off her gloves, sat on the edge of the sofa, and rested her hand on Flann’s uninjured calf. “Be serious for a minute.”

“I’m always serious.”

“I doubt that you ever are,” Abby said with a snort, “but you need to be now. You’ve been through a lot. Your body has been bruised, battered, and exposed to the elements. That’s a nasty laceration on your leg and I know it hurts, even though you’re too macho to admit it. You won’t do anyone any good if you get halfway through a case and collapse.”

“What if I promise I won’t start a case if I don’t feel a hundred percent?”

“Do you mean it?”

“If I promise, I mean it.”

“All right then. Your word.”

Flann leaned over, grasped Abby’s hand. “My word.”

Harper came through the doorway. “What’s the verdict?”

Abby realized she was sitting with a half-naked Flann on the sofa, and Flann was holding her hand. She jumped up and started collecting supplies. “A deep laceration, but fortunately the muscle’s spared. We’ve closed it.”

Harper strode to the side of the sofa, jammed her hands on her hips, and stared down at Flann. “Are you bullshitting or can you really work?”

Flann pushed herself all the way up and eased her legs off the sofa. Her back ached, her shoulders ached, and her leg really hurt. “I feel like you kicked my ass like you used to do when we were kids playing football, but I’m okay. Do you hear anything from Dad?”

Harper shook her head. “I’ve been trying him and Mama and Carson, but I’m not getting anybody.”

“One of us should go by the house—probably you. Any of the urgent traumas will need me.”

“You’re right. I’ll go there, and then straight over to the Rivers. Presley needs to get to the hospital too.”

“What about the kids,” Abby said. “Are they both okay?”

“Fine.” Harper smiled wryly. “I had to make them promise not to go out kitten hunting.”

“They can stay here, and Presley, Flann, and I can go in my car to the hospital,” Abby said.

“That’s a plan,” Harper said.

“I need some pants,” Flann said.

“Might be a good idea,” Harper said dryly. “I’ve got some scrubs that I keep here to hang around in. They’ll fit you.”

“If you get them for me, I’ll get dressed and we can go.”

Abby packed up the rest of the supplies. “I want to talk to Blake for a minute. I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

As Abby left, Harper said, “How’re you doing, really?”

“I’ll make it for a few hours. Abby did a good job.”

“I don’t doubt it. She’s solid.”

“Yeah,” Flann said slowly. “She’s something.”

“What are you doing there, Flann?” Harper asked.

“Not a thing.” Flann gave her a long, flat look until Harper shrugged and shook her head. Satisfied, Flann said, “How about you get me those scrubs so we can get to work.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“You should take the truck, Harp,” Flann said.

“Presley’s car will do me,” Harper said. “The three of you have farther to go.”

“Yeah, but the road’s likely to be washed out along the river. Presley’s car won’t handle that.” Flann got a stubborn set to her jaw, a look Abby was coming to recognize.

Flann was used to being in charge, of making decisions that no one—except Harper, apparently—ever questioned. Abby wondered if Flann had always been that way, or if her training or some other experience conditioned her to be most comfortable when she shouldered the responsibility for the welfare of others. She wondered too what happened if Flann was wrong—imagining those inevitable mistakes must eat at her. A wave of sympathy washed through her.

“No one should take any unnecessary chances,” Abby said. “We’re all going to be needed at the hospital.”

Presley slipped an arm around Harper’s waist. “I’d feel better if you took the truck.”

Harper caressed her arm. “Okay. But if the three of you run into any problems on the way in, you turn back, okay?”

“I’ll look after them,” Flann said.

Since Abby didn’t know what she faced, she could hardly object to Flann being Flann and assuming she was in charge, but she wasn’t going to be a bystander either. “How about Presley drives, and I’ll watch the roads for obstacles. Flann, you can stretch out in the backseat and keep your leg elevated.”

“Wait a minute,” Flann grumbled. “I should drive. I know the roads—”

“So does Presley.” Abby plucked Presley’s keys from the table, slipped them into her pocket, and gave Flann a no-discussion glare. “If you expect to work later tonight, you need to rest now.”

Flann scowled. “I can see how you got to be chief so fast.”

Abby grinned. “By being right, you mean?”

“I was thinking more like hard-as—” Flann glanced over at Blake and Margie, who didn’t seem to be paying them any attention. All the same, she muttered, “Not quite what I was thinking.”

Presley set the roast that was to have been their picnic dinner in the center of the big oak table. “Everybody should grab a sandwich. If the power is out at the Rivers, the cafeteria won’t have food for long. Grab water from the fridge too.”

“Double-check you have flashlights,” Harper said, slicing thick slabs off the roast as Presley set out bread and sandwich bags.

“Good idea.” Abby put together sandwiches. “Blake, Margie—come and eat.”

When they’d grabbed sandwiches, she made two more and handed one to Flann. “Eat this now. I’ll pack some more for later.”

Flann took the sandwich, her fingers grazing Abby’s. “Thanks.”

“Sure,” Abby said, not entirely sure why she’d made Flann’s without even thinking about it. And that was not anything she wanted to keep thinking about right then.

Inside of ten minutes, they were ready to go. Presley walked Harper to the back door and kissed her. “Be careful. I wish you weren’t going alone.”

“I’ll be fine,” Harper said. “I’ll meet you at the Rivers just as soon as I’ve checked the homestead. Don’t worry if you don’t hear from me. Phone reception is likely to be iffy.”

Presley nodded, her lips tight.

Harper hugged her, murmuring something too quietly for Abby to hear. Presley’s expression softened and she leaned into Harper for an instant, her arms locked around Harper’s waist. Abby looked away, directly into Flann’s eyes. Flann’s pensive gaze skimmed her face and settled on hers, capturing Abby again in the dark, seductive undertow Flann exuded with effortless force. Abby broke away reluctantly and physically turned aside, not trusting herself to resist the strange pull of Flann’s attention. “Blake, Margie—remember, no searching outside.”

“We should check for Rooster,” Margie said.

Blake nodded.

“Rooster is a survivor,” Presley said. “If he hasn’t made an appearance by morning, we’ll all look for him. Abby’s right, though, it’s not safe out there until we’re sure the storms have passed.”

“You’re all going out,” Margie pointed out with her usual certainty.

“Yeah, Mom,” Blake added in solidarity.

Great, Abby thought. Now there’s a pair of them to bargain with.

“Besides,” Margie said, “if we keep an eye on the sky and promise to—”

“No deals,” Flann said, joining Abby. “You stay inside until one of us comes back. Let’s have your word on it.”

Blake and Margie glanced at each other in some kind of silent communication, then at Abby and Flann. Whatever they saw must have convinced them, and together, they said, “Word.”

“Good enough,” Flann said. “Margie, you’ve got all our numbers. We’ll call when we hit the Rivers.”

“Thanks,” Abby whispered to Flann.

“No problem.” Flann grinned. “Never try to negotiate with my sister. She always wins.”

“Runs in the family?”

“Usually.” Flann dropped her voice and leaned close. “You’ve been doing pretty well on that score with me, though.”

“I’m not counting.” Abby savored the heat of Flann’s bare arm against hers for an instant, an unexpected guilty pleasure, before snatching up the bag of sandwiches. “All right then, we’re ready.”

Harper drove out first with Presley close behind. They had to stop twice before the end of the long driveway so Presley and Abby could climb out and help Harper clear downed tree limbs from the road. Flann grumbled about not helping but stayed in the car.

When they reached the two-lane, Harper turned in the opposite direction and was gone. Abby shivered at the sudden sense of being very alone in an alien landscape. Despite it being only early evening, the sky was unnaturally dark, layered with angry black storm clouds. Their headlights were the only illumination as they traveled slowly toward the village. The farmhouses they passed had no power and stood as blackened silhouettes against the ominous horizon. Presley, both hands gripping the wheel, managed to circumvent all of the downed limbs in the road for the first few miles. When they rounded a bend, she let out a sigh. A distant glow heralded the village up ahead.

“At least some of the village has power,” Abby said.

Presley said, “Hopefully the hospital does too.”

“They’ve got the generators,” Flann said, “but they’ll only do for twenty-four hours or so.”

“I’ll get on the line with the power company as soon as we arrive and get an idea of what the local grid looks like,” Presley said.

Abby leaned forward and narrowed her eyes, trying to make out the shape in the road ahead. Her breath caught. “Pres, there’s a truck off the road.”

Presley stopped quickly, ten yards from a pickup truck leaning precariously on its side, its rear wheels barely on the shoulder and its front pointed down a long slope that ended in a ravine filled with pine trees. Abby lifted her door handle. “I’ll have to go check and see about the driver.”

Flann gripped her shoulder from behind. “Wait a minute. You’re not equipped for field intervention, and it’s dangerous trying to work around a vehicle like that. It could shift, slide down that incline, and take you with it.”

“I can’t take the chance someone might be trapped.”

“Dammit, Abby—” Flann sounded more worried than angry. “At least try 9-1-1 first. If they can be here soon, they’re the best hope for anyone trapped in the car.”

“I know that.” Abby ought to be annoyed by Flann’s objections and offended by the restraining hand on her shoulder, but she wasn’t. Flann made sense, but that wasn’t the reason she accepted Flann’s protests either. Flann didn’t want her to get hurt, and being cared for rather than caring for someone else was so unusual she’d forgotten what it felt like. Oh, her mother and Blake cared about her, but they didn’t take care of her. She hadn’t thought she needed or wanted it, but it was nice. “I’ll call them just as soon as I see about the driver. I’ve got to at least see if he’s in there and alive.”

Flann opened her back door. “I’ll come with you.”

“You won’t. There’s no way you can manage that slope on your leg.” Before Flann could argue more, Abby jumped out.

“Abby!” Flann called.

A car door slammed and Presley yelled, “Wait for me. I’m coming too.”

“Don’t try to get inside,” Flann called again as Abby and Presley slogged away through the puddles and tangled branches.

When they reached the spot where the pickup had gone over, Abby started down the steep, slick slope first, testing each step carefully as her foot sank into wet soil and loose gravel. The humid air smelled of ozone and the thick, cloying odor of drenched earth.

“Oh!” Abby’s foot slipped, her legs flew out from under her, and she barely caught herself on an outstretched hand. Sharp stones gouged her palm, and she bit back another gasp of pain.

“Are you all right?” Presley asked.

“Yes. The footing’s treacherous. Be careful.” Turning, Abby held out a hand and they helped each other down the last few yards to the truck cab. The truck canted toward them on its running board, the passenger-side wheels elevated into the air. Abby felt the hood of the red pickup truck. It was cold. The engine had either shut off or run out of gas. She pulled aside branches of a shrub caught in the wheel well and peered through the driver’s window. A dark form leaned against the door, a seat belt strap angled across the window.

“He’s belted in place.” Abby rapped on the window. “Hello! Hello, can you hear me?”

No response.

“Is there anyone else in there?” Presley asked.

“I don’t know. I can’t see past him. I need to open the door if I can.”

“Be careful,” Presley said. “If the truck slides while you’re trying to open the door, you can get caught underneath.”

“You should stand back out of the way.”

“You just be ready to jump too.” Presley scrambled back up the slope. “Clear.”

Abby grasped the handle, hoping the door wasn’t locked. She squeezed and the door gave a little. Holding her breath, she carefully pried it open. The lower edge hit the ground and stuck, but she had enough space to wedge herself into the opening. If the truck shifted now, she’d be carried down the rest of the way with it. Flann would never let her hear the end of it. Grinning at the absurdity of the thought, she shouldered into the narrow crevice.

A man in his sixties sagged against the steering wheel, the seat belt holding him upright. The windshield was shattered and his forehead was bloodied in a starburst pattern from the impact.

“Sir? Sir, can you hear me? I’m a doctor.” He didn’t move as she pressed her fingertips over his carotid artery. Strong and steady.

A light shone in over her shoulder. Presley with a flashlight. “How is he?”

“Alive.” The light helped and Abby quickly ran a hand over his chest and abdomen. She couldn’t find any signs of external bleeding. “He’s not shocky yet, but he could have internal injuries. Definitely has a closed head injury. He’s alone.”

“What do we do?” Presley asked.

“We can’t get him out of the cab without proper equipment. We could make a spine or back injury worse. Shine the light into the backseat.”

“Good right there?”

“Yes. Just give me a minute.” Abby stretched an arm behind the seat and snagged an old wool blanket from the floor. “Okay—you start back up. I’ll be right behind you.”

She covered him, carefully backed out of the cramped opening, and edged her way up the slope to Presley. Going up was a lot harder than going down and she slipped a few more times. She’d need a shower before she’d be able to see patients. She concentrated on getting back to the top, trying to keep as much dirt and contamination out of her lacerated palm as she could.

Flann leaned against the hood of Presley’s car, shining a light to guide them back. The night had gone black. Her face was mostly in shadow, but Abby could feel the tension radiating from her from ten feet away. Her solid presence chased some of the cold from Abby’s middle, and she realized she was shaking.

“There’s a man down there with a head injury,” Abby said.

“We’re not going to get him out without more help,” Flann said. “You look like you took a fall. You okay?”

“Just muddy.” Abby resisted the ridiculous urge to straighten her clothes and tame her tangled hair. Like it mattered what she looked like just then.

“Get in the car and get warm,” Flann said, her tone gruff. “Pres, you okay?”

“Just wet. If we can’t reach emergency services,” Presley said, “we’ll have to drive the rest of the way into town and find the sheriff or someone else.”

“I hate leaving him here,” Abby said.

“Getting the proper help is the best thing we can do,” Flann repeated. “Come on.” She circled Abby’s waist. “Inside.”

Abby climbed into the car before she realized Flann had directed her into the rear seat. Flann slid in and shut the door, blocking her exit. When Flann’s arm came around her shoulders, she didn’t pull away. The warmth felt good. So did Flann’s body.

“Presley, you good to drive?” Flann asked.

“Fine.”

“Wait.” Abby pressed 911 and prayed for a connection. After what seemed like an interminable period of time, a woman answered briskly.

“Fire rescue, what’s your emergency?”

“This is Dr. Abby Remy. I’m on—” She looked at Flann.

“County Road 54.”

“County Road 54 just east of 71. There’s a red pickup truck off the road with an unconscious driver inside. We need a response team.”

“Is there any evidence of gas leaking or fire?”

“No.”

“Are there any other passengers?”

“No. The driver’s pulse is strong and I didn’t see any evidence of external hemorrhage. How long until a team can get here?”

“I have one on the way. They’ll be there in under five minutes.”

“Thank you.”

Flann said, “Pres, you should go. We can’t do anything here, and we can at the Rivers.”

“Abby?” Presley asked.

“I agree. We need to get to the hospital.”

“Let me see your hand,” Flann said, taking Abby’s wrist as Presley pulled away from the wreck.

“What?” Abby said.

“Your hand is bleeding.”

“Oh,” Abby said. “It’s nothing, just a few scrapes.”

“I’ll check it when we get to the ER,” Flann said.

Abby was too weary to argue. Presley drove slowly through town, detouring around intersections blocked by police and fire trucks. Sirens blared intermittently and emergency vehicles passed them, most headed toward the Rivers, a few out of town. When the hospital on the hill came into view, glowing like a beacon from lights in dozens of windows, Abby sighed with relief.

“It looks like the village was mostly spared,” Flann said quietly. “Power’s out here and there, and the water main on River Road looks like it sprang a leak, but hopefully there won’t be too much more damage. The houses out of town are far enough apart that the twister probably missed most of them. We might’ve gotten lucky.”

Presley turned into the winding drive up to the Rivers.

“I’m not too sure about that,” Abby said, taking in the line of emergency vehicles pulled up in front of the ER. “It looks like we’ve got a full house.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

When the kitchen lights came back on, Blake blinked and Margie whooped.

“All right!” Margie jumped up. “Come on.”

Blake followed Margie down the hall into a room that looked like a library, although most of the bookcases were empty. “What are we doing?”

“Getting lamps.”

“Why?” He whispered, although he wasn’t sure why. The whole night resembled one of those movies where a bunch of kids go into the woods and some maniac shows up. Though now that he thought about it, those movies seemed really stupid compared to what had just happened.

“You’ll see. Here.” Margie handed him a desk lamp. “We’ll use these to keep the chicks warm.”

He followed her back to the kitchen, the lamp under his arm. “Do you think these will be enough?”

“As long as the kitchen doesn’t cool off too much,” Margie said.

Blake wiped the sweat from his neck with his arm. The storm hadn’t helped the heat at all. It was worse, the air a heavy thick blanket he could almost feel sitting on his shoulders, even inside. “Not much chance of that.”

“They need to be kept at ninety degrees at this age.” Margie placed her lamp on the floor next to the box and passed Blake the cord. “Put yours on the other side.”

Blake positioned his, plugged them in, and angled the round metal shade so the beam fell into the box. The chicks huddled in one corner in the straw. They were about the size and color of tennis balls. They looked awfully fragile. Blake’s chest tightened. “I wish we had the right stuff for them.”

“It’s just for tonight. The regular lamps aren’t as good as heat lamps,” Margie said, “but it will help.”

Margie filled a saucer with water and placed it in one corner of the box. The small noisy balls of fluff hopped in a scrum over to the dish and pecked at the water.

Blake grinned. Weird that watching chickens, something he’d never given a thought to before, could create a little spurt of happiness. He laughed and didn’t even feel dumb about it. “They’re really cute.”

“Wait’ll they start to molt in a few days. They look so totally alien, half down and half feathers.”

“What about food?”

Margie sighed. “Yeah, I know. The chicken food is in the barn.”

“Oh.” Blake didn’t need to say it. Off-limits.

“Do you think starving chicks constitutes an emergency?” Margie’s blond brows were drawn down, like she was working out a difficult math problem. Or plotting how to avoid getting caught coming in after curfew.

“Well, we can’t let them go hungry.” Blake was okay being stuck inside overnight, especially since he’d given his word on it, and he could live forever and be happy never to get caught in another storm like the one that just tore through, but the chicks… “We didn’t figure them into our decision.”

“The tack room is up at the front of the barn. That part didn’t look damaged.”

Blake walked out onto the back porch. Other than the glow from the kitchen, there were no lights anywhere. The sky was completely black. No stars, no hazy cloud of reflected illumination hanging on the horizon. “Hey, Margie? Isn’t there supposed to be a light over the barn?”

Margie joined him. “Yeah. The line down there must be out.”

“We have the flashlight, right?”

“Yep. What do you think?”

“We promised Flann and my mom we wouldn’t go out, but…” Blake wrestled with the dilemma. “That was about us being safe, right?”

“Right. We didn’t discuss contingencies and emergencies. Flann wouldn’t want us to stay in the house if it caught on fire.”

“I think letting the chickens starve constitutes about the same level of emergency as the house burning down.”

“Totally.” Margie’s eyes sparkled in the slanted light from behind them, and the gold in her hair almost looked like a halo, but her grin was anything but angelic. Her tilted smile said she’d take a risk and not mind facing the consequences. “Flann will kill us if we get hurt.”

“So will my mom.” Blake knew they both knew they’d most likely get grounded and lectured at, which they’d survive, but he hated disappointing his mom. And he didn’t want to look bad in front of Flann. He pictured the little yellow fluff balls and how eagerly they went after the water. They must be hungry. “It’s not raining anymore. What are the chances another one of those twisters will come through?”

“I don’t know. This is the first one I’ve been around for.” Margie looped an arm around the porch post and swung out and back. “It’s only gonna take us five minutes, max, to get to the barn and back.”

“I say we do it.” Blake stepped down onto the ground.

“Yep. Me too. I’ll get the light.”

Margie led the way to the driveway with the flashlight, holding Blake’s hand. “There’s a tree down just there. We can skirt around it.”

“What about power lines?” Blake hopped to avoid a huge puddle and almost managed it. On the landing, water soaked into his right tennis shoe. He tried not to think about what might be in the water.

“The lines are buried out here, so we should be okay.”

“Great.” Blake eased off his grip on Margie’s fingers, but didn’t let go. It was really dark.

The chicken food was just inside the tack room in a big aluminum can. Margie played the light around until they spotted an empty feed bucket. Blake filled it with a couple of inches of chicken feed. “You think we should look for the kittens?”

“I want to,” Margie said, “but if we go toward the back and anything comes down, we might as well hope it buries us for good.”

Blake sighed. “Yeah, you’re right. I guess this is as much as we can do right now.”

“Wait—listen.”

Blake tensed. Shadows filled the barn, and not being able to see beyond the small cone of light made everything extra spooky. “What?”

A sound like an animal being eaten alive came from somewhere close by. Blake jumped and dropped the feed pail. “What is that?”

Margie laughed. “Rooster.”

“Where?”

“He’s probably hiding nearby.”

“How do we catch him?”

Margie handed Blake the feed pail and looped her arm through his. “We don’t. Come on.”

They picked their way quickly but cautiously back to the porch, and Margie propped the door open with a chair and set the flashlight on top. “Can you find another dish for the food and feed those guys?”

Blake found one on the drain board, filled it from the pail, and placed it in the box with the chicks. They chirped and pecked at it, and he knew they’d made the right decision. “They’re good.”

“Okay.” Margie turned out the rest of the lights in the kitchen and plopped down on the floor with her back against one of the cabinets.

Moving carefully in the near dark from the little bit of illumination from the flashlight, Blake straddled a wooden kitchen chair and folded his arms on the back. He rested his chin on his arms. “What are we doing?”

“Look,” Margie said excitedly.

Rooster landed in the doorway, swiveled his head back and forth a few times, and hopped into the kitchen. He fluttered his wings and pooped.

Blake winced. “Oh boy. Something tells me he’s probably not supposed to be in here.”

“Crap.” Margie laughed. “But there are extenuating circumstances, right?”

“Are you sure you don’t want to be a lawyer?”

“Family of doctors, remember?” Margie said. “Besides, I’m not interested in verbal arguments. I like doing things.”

Rooster one-legged it over to the box of chicks. Blake got ready to jump. Weren’t male animals—birds, whatever—supposed to be dangerous around babies? “He won’t hurt them, will he?”

“I wouldn’t ordinarily put the babies in with the big ones, but Rooster’s not your ordinary chicken. Let’s see what he does.”

Margie sounded calm, but Blake wasn’t so sure. Rooster peered over the box, trumpeted a few more earsplitting screeches, and fluffed up his feathers. A few more screeches and he hunkered down beside the box and appeared to go to sleep.

“All good,” Margie said. “Anyhow, I’ve been thinking I might be a vet.”

“Yeah,” Blake said, “I can see that. It’s still medicine, but you’d be outside more, and animals are so cool.”

“More cool than people sometimes.” Margie moved the flashlight and set it upright between them, enclosing them in a circle of light beyond which the night ruled. “Wait till you’ve spent some more time with some of the bigger animals.”

“I’d like that.” Blake had never thought about learning about animals, but then why would he. He grew up in the city and did what city kids did. He didn’t know anything about farms or animals, and the idea of finding out hadn’t interested him. Until now. The only other time he’d ever felt quite so happy inside had been when he’d escaped into a fantasy world between the pages of a book. Spending more time with Margie would be cool. She was smart and logical, but adventurous too. She was just fun to be around. “You said the other day I could go to the 4-H thing with you. I could still do that, right?”

“Sure. You live here now. I’ll take you with me when we go to the convent to look after the kids.”

“Whoa, back up a minute. Convent kids?”

Margie smirked. “The nuns over at St. Mary’s raise goats, and it’s kidding season. At least the second round of kids for this year. 4-Hers volunteer looking after the babies—feeding them and holding them and stuff. Makes them friendly and calm. Some of us show them at the county fairs. They’re way cute, and it’s really fun.”

“Okay, sure. If you think it will be all right.”

“Trust me, everybody likes volunteers.”

Blake worried he’d stand out. The new kid. The different kid. The weird one. “I’m not gonna know anything.”

“You will before long.” Margie nudged his foot. “I’ll teach you.”

“Thanks.” He sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the chicks scrabble about and then slowly quiet. The night grew heavy with silence, like the air was growing thicker. “Weird, without any noise—nice.”

“You miss the city?”

“Not so much. I mean, I miss having everything I want being really convenient—restaurants and shops and movie theaters and things like that. But I don’t miss how crowded and dirty it is. You don’t really notice it when you live there, until you get out here and there’s no garbage on the sidewalks.”

“No sidewalks.”

Blake laughed. “Yeah, that too.”

“I guess it’s hard leaving your friends and school and everything, though.”

Blake’s heart jumped. He really liked Margie, and he didn’t want to screw up being friends, but he hadn’t really had anyone to talk to except his mom for a while. The support group was okay, but it was different talking to the group. They understood where he was coming from, which was super, but they weren’t there when he went to school every day. They weren’t part of his everyday life like Margie might be, weren’t maybe going to be friends like she was. He hoped. Margie was different, special. He wasn’t sure how far he could go. What was safe to say. “I miss a couple of them, yeah.”

Margie tilted her head, watching him like she was waiting for more.

“You know, some of the kids I went to school with, my friends, they had a hard time with the trans thing.” There, he’d said it out loud. Trans. He’d owned it. Now he just had to wait to see what happened. Again. A sick feeling rolled through his stomach. Maybe he’d just screwed up.

“Why?” Margie asked.

The big hand squeezing Blake’s chest let go. Hopeful, he said, “I keep trying to figure out why, exactly, so, you know, maybe I can explain better. My best friends were these three girls and a guy I’d gone to school with forever. When I told them, one of the girls weirded out even though she tried to pretend she was cool with it. Allie said she felt like she’d been sharing secrets with a guy all along, and she never would have said some things if she’d known. And how now she couldn’t be herself with me.”

“Wow,” Margie said thoughtfully. “It seems kind of backward, don’t you think? Because you were sharing secrets with them too, probably.”

“Yeah. But you know, not the big one.”

“True. I can see how it might be hard when your really close friends have to think of you differently—like if one of my sisters said she was really a guy. But they’d still be them, right? I mean, you’re still the same person. It’s on the other people to see the real you.”

Blake sat down on the floor next to Margie and wrapped his arms around his bent knees. The sick feeling was gone, and a flame of excitement kindled in his middle. Maybe this would be all right. “I guess when you find out the person’s different than you thought, you don’t know quite how to act. Because we expect guys to be a certain way and girls a certain way.”

“I think we ought to just take people as they are, girls or guys or whatever, as they put themselves out there, you know?” She laughed. “I guess you must. Since that’s what you’re doing. Being the way you know you are.”

“I’m kind of glad we moved up here.” Blake hadn’t told his mom, but in a way, it was a relief to be in a new place and maybe have a new start. “I do miss my friends, but I feel like here, I can just be me and no one will be comparing me to the me they think I should be.”

“Are you gonna tell the school…the teachers, I mean?”

“Yeah, I think so. When I’m eighteen, I can legally change my sex—you know, on forms and stuff like that, but I don’t want to wait to be treated like…like me.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.” Margie pursed her lips “So, what about…the other. You know.”

Blake let out a breath. He knew. “I haven’t talked to my mom yet, but I’m ready. I just started the shots a couple of months ago, but I’m ready for the surgery. For the top, anyway.”

“You should get my sister to do it,” Margie said with conviction. “She’s the best.”

“You don’t think it’s too out there? A lot of trans guys don’t ever have surgery.”

“Do you think it is?”

“No. It feels…not right this way.”

“Well then, you should do it. You know who you are, right? You know what feels right for you. I think you should do whatever feels right for you.”

“Thanks.”

Margie bumped his shoulder with hers. “I didn’t do anything. You’re the one who’s brave.”

Tears pricked Blake’s eyes and he blinked to keep them from falling. He’d heard it before, from his mom, from his therapist, from the others in the trans group. Margie was the first friend he’d made since he’d determined to be out with everyone. She hadn’t freaked out. She understood. She gave him hope.

“You think we can sleep down here with Rooster and the chicks?”

“I don’t see why not.” Margie jumped up. “Let’s find some pillows and stuff.”

“And popcorn?”

Margie grabbed his hand. “Most definitely.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Abby counted eight emergency vans in the line extending down the drive from the ER entrance. Who knew how many had arrived in the time it had taken them to free Flann and drive over. “Stop and let me out here.”

“Wait.” Flann grasped her arm. “You’re in no shape to see patients just yet. You’re wet, cold, and…ah, dirty. Plus your hand needs some cleaning up.”

Abby couldn’t argue. Flann was never more annoying than when she was right. Abby’s legs below her shorts were scraped and mud caked, her shoes were a ruin, and her palm stung from the dried blood and grit stuck to the lacerations. “Fine. I need you to get me some scrubs. Where’s the locker room?”

“Presley,” Flann said, “pull around to the side entrance. I’ll take Abby up to the OR for a shower and some scrubs.”

“All right.” Presley swung around the circle in front of the main entrance to the white colonnaded brick building and into the side lot. “I’m going to head to the ER to see what the situation is, but I want to try Harper first.” She pulled out her phone and swiped the screen. “I’ve got a signal.”

Abby dug out her cell. She had a weak signal but at least there was hope the service would be back to strength soon. “I’ll try the kids.”

After a minute, Presley sighed. “I’m not getting through.”

“I’m not either.” Abby powered off.

“The circuits are probably overloaded with everyone trying to check in with family and friends,” Flann said. “We’ll have to just keep trying.”

“I should have gone with Harper,” Presley said.

“Harp knows these roads. She’ll be fine,” Flann said. “You’re the boss—you need to be here, especially if we have to call in reinforcements.”

“And I’m going to need to decide that,” Abby said. Blake and Margie were as safe as they could be. She would’ve felt better hearing Blake’s voice, but that comfort would have to wait. From the looks of what was ahead in the ER, they were probably already at capacity. “I’ll have a recommendation for you in twenty minutes, Pres. Let’s go, Flann.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Flann held the door as Abby climbed out and led her up the walk to the side entrance.

The security desk was unmanned. Abby followed Flann into the stairwell to the second floor and into the OR lounge. A redhead with a curvaceous body undisguised by her faded green scrubs let out a cry of delight when she saw Flann.

“Thank God you showed up. Glenn called up from the ER to say she’s got a couple of cases that will need to come up soon. You’re the only surgeon who’s shown up so far.”

“How urgent?” Abby asked.

The nurse gave her an inquiring look.

“Jeannie,” Flann said, “this is Abby Remy, the new ER chief.”

“Great initiation,” Jeannie said. “Both level threes but Glenn said they shouldn’t wait too long in case we get backed up overnight. An open tib for a washout, and facial lacerations on a teenager that are too extensive to do in the ER.”

Flann said, “We’ll get cleaned up and head down there. How many OR nurses do you have in?”

“Three so far. And one nurse anesthetist.”

“That’s a start. See if you can get another team together so we can run two rooms.”

“Already on it. I’ve been calling, but I can’t reach a lot of the on-call staff. Hopefully everyone knows to show up.”

“I’m sure they do, but they might not be able to get here.”

“We’ll make it, Flann. Just let me know what you need.” Jeannie barely took her eyes off Flann’s, her tone eager and just a little breathless.

Abby recognized the signs of infatuation. So far every woman she’d seen around Flann appeared a little bit smitten. She suspected Flann’s effortless charm worked on just about everyone, gay or straight. Then again, maybe Flann and Jeannie had history—or something more current. Pushing the flare of annoyance aside, she said, “We should get going.”

Her tone was more forceful than she intended, but Flann just nodded and pointed to the door marked Surgeons. The other read Nurses.

“Seriously?” Abby asked. “Not Men and Women?”

“The hospital is a hundred years old. It’s tradition.”

“It’s archaic.”

“Good thing you’re friends with the CEO—you can take it up with her.”

“Not my battle. The locker rooms in the ER are appropriately labeled.”

“I kind of like making the guys jump for their pants.” Flann grinned, pushed the door open, and yelled inside, “Rivers on deck.”

No one answered, and they trooped in.

“We’ve got two showers in the back.” Flann pulled scrubs from a metal rack and looked over her shoulder. “Mediums?”

“That should do it.”

“You can go ahead. I’ll rustle up some OR towels. Won’t be fancy, but it will do the job.”

“Thanks.” Abby took the scrubs and, expecting the bathroom to be a grungy example of male dominion like the ones she’d had to use from time to time in training, was surprised to find the long marble counter with inset sinks, the white octagonal floor tiles, and the brass fixtures all sparkling. Like everywhere else in the hospital, the elegance of an earlier age remained. She stacked her dirty clothes and clean scrubs outside the last shower stall. The water was hot, plentiful, and blissful. Her palm stung as she carefully scrubbed it free of dirt and debris, but she took her time. She couldn’t afford to get sidelined with cellulitis. She used soap from the dispenser to wash her hair and quickly rinsed off.

She would’ve stayed under for a half an hour if she’d had the choice, but she didn’t. She’d have to ignore her aching muscles and stiff joints for now. Less than five minutes later, she pulled back the plastic curtain and checked outside. A stack of green OR towels sat next to her scrubs. They were just large enough to cover her as she wrapped one around her torso and stepped out to dry off.

Flann rounded the corner, a pair of OR clogs in her hand, and stopped abruptly. “Hey. Feel better?”

Abby tried to pretend she wasn’t standing there nearly naked, but she felt the flush rise up her chest to her throat. The towel came to just the tops of her thighs. If she breathed too deeply, she’d give Flann a show. She resisted the urge to grab another one and hold it up in front of her. Flann had undoubtedly seen naked women before, and she had changed her clothes around dozens of other women over the years. This was different, though. This was a woman whose briefest gaze made her heart race. She grabbed another towel and briskly rubbed her hair with one hand and surreptitiously held the other down against her middle. “About a million times better.”

“I brought you some OR clogs—they might be a bit big, but they’re clean.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you down there.”

“I need to look at your hand.”

“Go shower,” Abby said. “You’re just as cold and dirty as I was. My hand is fine.”

“Let me see it. Thirty seconds.”

Since she’d waste more time arguing, Abby stepped forward with her hand out, palm up. “Your verdict, Dr. Rivers?”

Flann cupped Abby’s hand, her fingers a gentle cradle. “Not too deep, but your whole palm is scraped up. You ought to put some antibiotic ointment on it when you get downstairs.”

“I will.” Abby pulled her hand away when Flann showed no signs of letting go. They’d probably only been touching for ten seconds, but her whole arm flashed with heat. Why attention from a woman she barely knew could rock her so completely left her as shaken as the trembling in her depths. The need that pulled at her when Flann focused on her was foreign and terrifying and bittersweet. Everything she’d forgotten how to want. “You need to keep your leg dry.”

Flann held up a big sheet of adherent plastic. “Jeannie got me this. I’ll wrap it around the dressing.”

“You’ll need help with that.”

“I’ll get Jeannie to do it.”

“I’m right here.”

“If you don’t mind.”

She minded the idea of Jeannie doing it a lot more, for some reason. “Just give me a minute to get dressed.”

“Sure.” Flann leaned against the tile wall.

Really. As if she couldn’t tell when she was being teased. Abby pointed. “Flann. Out.”

“Oh,” Flann said, her smile widening. “Just checking.”

“Well, you can stop. I’ll call you.”

Flann laughed and backed out. Abby wanted to be outraged at Flann’s outrageous presumptions and her interminable flirting, but she wasn’t really. Flann’s exuberant confidence and relentless charisma made her feel young in a way she couldn’t remember ever feeling. She must’ve, once, before she’d made a colossal mistake that had left her pregnant and also given her the greatest gift of her life. She’d lost her youth, but she’d gained so much more and had not one iota of regret. Still, Flann’s playful seductiveness woke something in her, and allowing herself a few moments’ secret pleasure couldn’t do anyone any harm. But the moment was over. She pulled on the scrubs over her bare skin and stepped into the clogs. “Ready.”

Flann came back and dropped scrubs and more towels on the floor. She untied the pair of scrub pants she’d gotten from Harper and let them slide to the floor.

The shower enclosure was steamy and very quiet. They were very much alone and Flann was not her patient now. Flann’s legs were tanned and toned, and a little bit of bare, lean midriff showed above the black briefs. Flann was a very sexy woman, and Abby was not immune.

“Okay, how do we do this?” Abby kept her gaze firmly on Flann’s face.

Flann held out the eighteen-inch square of adherent plastic. “You hold both corners on your end, and I’ll peel off the backing. Keep it tight so it doesn’t wrinkle, lay it down over the bandage, and wrap it all the way around. Make sure you get skin on both sides of it so it sticks.”

Abby had to crouch in front of Flann again, and she ordered herself back into physician mode. She grasped the plastic as directed, Flann peeled off the thin paper backing, and Abby pressed the adherent film to Flann’s thigh. Flann’s muscles jumped.

“I’m sorry. You’re tender, aren’t you?”

“I’m okay. You’re doing great.”

Abby carefully wrapped the plastic around Flann’s thigh, completely enclosing the gauze bandage she’d placed earlier. When she was done, she looked up. “All right?”

Flann’s teasing grin was gone. In its place was an expression Abby had never seen directed at her before—a dark flash of hunger that flared in the shadows of Flann’s gaze.

“Really good.” Flann brushed a strand of hair from Abby’s cheek. “You do have good hands.”

Flann’s fingertips were soft and warm, and heat flowed down Abby’s body. She leaned into Flann’s palm and Flann’s fingers slid over the edge of her jaw onto her neck. Her nipples tightened.

Abby swallowed. “I should get downstairs.”

“I’ll be right down.” Flann didn’t move.

Abby rose. They were inches apart. Flann’s lips parted, full and moist.

“Abby—”

“Don’t forget,” Abby said, slipping around Flann. “I expect you to check in every two hours.” She didn’t wait for Flann to answer.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Flann finished her sixth case of the night at five in the morning. They’d commandeered a couple of floor nurses to work in the recovery room until the regular staff could get in, hopefully sometime in the next few hours. Presley had sent word into the OR that she’d been in contact with local police and county sheriffs’ offices, and reports were that many roads were closed due to downed trees and mudslides. With so few roads connecting the outlying communities, many of the staff members would not be able to get into work for at least another twenty-four hours. Those who lived close enough to the hospital to make it in or who were on duty when the storm hit would be eating and sleeping at the hospital until relief arrived. Sometime during the night one of the old-timers Presley had once referred to as a dinosaur had shown up in the OR in scrubs. Franklin Thomas had spent his life as a general practitioner, but when he’d started practicing, around the time Flann had been born, he’d delivered babies, set bones, and on occasion removed an appendix or two. He’d pitched in and put on casts, washed out wounds, and performed other minor surgical procedures to give Flann a chance to concentrate on the most serious repairs.

“Jeannie,” Flann said as she stretched some of the kinks out of her back, “if there’s no one on deck, I’ll head to the ER and see what else might be down there.”

“Hopefully, not much.” Jeannie’s shoulders sagged with weariness. She and the few OR nurses they’d been able to assemble had been working flat-out for over twelve hours.

“I think Glenn would’ve called up if she’d had anything, but I want to be sure before we let people start taking breaks.”

“Right. We’ll be waiting.”

Flann changed out of her sweat-soaked scrubs into clean ones, grabbed a white coat from a peg by the door, and took the stairs down to the first floor. The almost empty ER waiting room was a relief. The big board across from the nurses’ station indicated eight of the dozen rooms were occupied, but the emergency receiving bay was unoccupied. No pending traumas. The exhaustion she’d been keeping at bay seeped in, and she rubbed her forearm across her eyes.

“Hey.”

Abby’s voice cut through Flann’s fatigue like a sharp scalpel, energizing her. Flann straightened, and there she was. A few feet away, a chart tucked under her arm, her hair held back with a tie at the base of her neck. Faint circles smudged the pale flesh beneath her eyes, but that was the only sign she’d been up all night working. Her gaze was bright and focused and her smile—Flann hadn’t realized until just that moment how precisely like sunrise Abby’s smile was.

“What are you doing down here?” Abby asked.

“I escaped.”

Abby laughed. “You’ve also missed several check-ins.”

“I know, I’m sorry. They were stacked up like firewood there for a while. I couldn’t get away.”

“I know. We were sending them up to you. How’s everybody doing?”

Flann leaned against the wall, moving out of the way of a nurse pushing a stretcher toward the elevator at the end of the hall. The aches in her muscles disappeared as pleasure lightened the heaviness in her chest. Abby stirred a surge of energy, like a breeze chasing away the clouds after a summer squall. “Fortunately, most of the fractures were straightforward and they’ll be able to go home in a day or two. The guy from the car accident is in the ICU being monitored. His CAT scan shows contusions, but nothing that looks surgical. Last I heard, the nurses were waiting for neurosurg to evaluate.”

“We really need our own neurosurgeons on call.”

“We need a lot of things,” Flann said with an edge. “But we’re not a level one, Abs.”

Abby’s eyebrows rose. “Abs?”

“Okay then. What do people call you for short?”

“Abby.”

“Right.” Flann grinned. “Have you heard from the kids?”

“Not yet. But they have to be okay, right?”

“They’ll be fine. Margie has a good head on her shoulders—she won’t do anything too crazy.”

“Now, that’s reassuring,” Abby said dryly. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

“Uh-huh. And now for the real answer.”

Flann shrugged. “I wouldn’t mind sitting down for a while.”

“I’ll bet. Are you hungry?”

Flann gave that some thought. She’d wolfed down the sandwich Abby had made between cases a few hours ago. When she was operating, she forgot about everything except what she needed to do to get through the case. “I think I will be before too long. What about down here? Need a hand?”

“Between Glenn and Andy Bucknell, who got here a few hours ago, we’ve been able to clear the board more or less. We’re waiting to transfer an acute asthmatic up to a telemetry floor, and a couple more are waiting for X-rays and test results, but I think everyone is pretty much squared away.”

“Are you going to be able to get out of here for a while?”

“Maybe. At least long enough to check in on Blake. What about Harper?”

“I got a short message from Harper in the OR about three. She and my dad are fielding local calls.”

Abby gestured for Flann to follow. “I’ll stand you a cup of coffee and we’ll try calling again.”

“You’re on.”

Instead of going to the cafeteria, Abby led her to the ER break room where a fresh round of coffee was just dripping into the pot. Flann sank into a chair at one of the chipped Formica tables, the beige top discolored in places from too many spilled cups of coffee. Abby pulled two Styrofoam cups from a stack and looked over her shoulder. “Cream? Sugar?”

“Black is fine.”

Abby poured two cups and leaned down to pull cream from the under-counter fridge.

Flann took the opportunity to study Abby unawares. She looked great even in scrubs—full in all the right places and sleek in others. Added to that, she moved with confidence and grace. She was pretty spectacular on all fronts. Flann would have sworn she was too tired to even entertain sex, but her belly heated and she couldn’t help imagining Abby naked and lying beside her on cool white sheets while a late-night breeze blew in an open window. Yeah, right. The scenario worked, but Abby Remy was not a good candidate for the rest of the picture. Flann sighed. She and Abby kept getting thrown together in the middle of a crisis, and every time Abby came out looking more and more desirable. Just the circumstances. Adrenaline and hormones. Nothing more.

Abby handed Flann a coffee and sat across from her. “Considering that we don’t have any protocols in place for a disaster of this magnitude, I think everything went really well tonight.”

Flann sipped her coffee. Abby’s eyes glowed and her voice lilted with excitement. “You’ve been having a good time.”

Abby looked as if she might protest, then with a small smile, nodded. “You don’t really think I’m an ER doc because I like to take care of colds and UTIs, do you?”

“While there’s nothing wrong with doing that,” Flann said judiciously, “no, I see you preferring a lot more high-powered situation. I’m surprised you’re not an intensivist or some kind of critical-care doc or something.”

“I thought about it, but like I said, I enjoy the variety in the ER. And I like the tough cases. I like the pace.”

“Then why are you here? Tonight’s an anomaly, you must know that. Ordinarily, you’re going to get the occasional car accident, some farming injuries, kids with broken bones from playing sports, and a whole hell of a lot of MIs, pulmonary problems, and…female-type issues.”

Abby laughed. “I know that.”

“Then I repeat, why are you here?”

Abby stared at her coffee, contemplating how much she really wanted to say. She hadn’t even talked to Presley about everything that had happened in the last year, not really. And Flann, Flann was hardly the confidant type. And yet, the intensity of her gaze and the thoughtful timber of her voice were genuine. She actually wanted to know, and Abby wanted to say the words out loud, rather than whisper them in her mind when lying alone late at night. “Most of it has to do with Blake.”

“You mentioned that, at least a little bit. That’s a big sacrifice to make—leaving a major trauma center for a quiet place like this.”

Abby’s head snapped up. “I don’t think so.”

Flann held up a hand. “Whoa. I’m not saying I don’t agree with it. But there’s no point in pretending you didn’t have to give up something.”

Abby’s first instinct was to argue, or at least tell Flann she had no idea what she was talking about until she was in the same situation. Until she had a child for whom she was completely responsible. A child who needed love and protection. Flann gazed back steadily, no touch of arrogance or superiority in her expression. Just calmly waiting. Abby took a deep breath. “It’s hard to think of it that way. He’s my child. I’d do anything for him.”

“I believe you.” Flann smiled. “My parents are like that too. Especially my mother. I respect you, more than I can say.”

Abby had heard that before, in one form or another, from her own mother, from the parents of some of the teens in Blake’s trans support group, from Presley. Hearing those words from Flann touched her in a way she hadn’t expected—Flann knew what it had taken to get where she was. Flann understood the thrill and the tremendous sense of accomplishment that came with treating critically ill patients in a crisis situation. Abby’s throat tightened, and to her horror, her eyes stung with unshed tears. She brushed a hand across her face. “Well, I must be more tired than I thought.”

Flann took her other hand and squeezed gently. “Long fucking night.”

Abby laughed shakily. “You can say that again. I don’t think I ever thanked you for saving Blake during that storm.”

“No thanks necessary. And I didn’t, really. But I’m glad I was there.”

“God, so am I.” Abby tightened her grip on Flann’s fingers, barely able to picture the horror of what might have happened. “He’s been through so much already. I never dreamed of a natural disaster as our next challenge.”

“Was it bad for him, before you moved?”

“I wish I knew the answer to that. He doesn’t always tell me everything, I don’t think. Partly that’s just being a teenager, and partly probably trying to protect me.”

“He’s his mother’s son,” Flann said softly.

“I know his friends, of course. I’ve known them most of their lives. He went to preschool with them, and then with a couple of them all the way through into high school.”

“Private school?”

Abby nodded.

“It must not have been easy raising him, with you being a resident.”

“My mother lived with us. That made a difference. I had some insurance money from my father’s death, so that helped pay for Blake’s school.”

Flann knew she was pushing, but she wanted to know. Needed to know in some deep way she couldn’t even name. “What about Blake’s father?”

Abby laughed. “David? He’s a nice enough guy, but…I would call him something of a flake. He’s into tech and always looking for the next big wave. He hasn’t caught one yet. He never had enough financial resources to really help out.”

“He’s not in the picture?” Flann’s chest tightened, waiting for the answer.

“He’s never really been in the picture,” Abby said slowly, not taking time to ask herself why she was answering. Why she wanted to answer. “He was my best friend in high school—the two gay kids against the world. We came out together, had our hearts broken at the same time. Presley was my best friend in college, maybe my only real friend. The sorority gave me a kind of community, but I was lonely, I guess. David showed up in the city one night, chasing a job. I wasn’t quite twenty yet, away from home for the first time. It was wonderful to see him and we went out to dinner, had a lot to drink, and ended up back in his hotel room reminiscing. Turns out he was a little lost and lonely too. Somehow…” She shook her head. “God, I don’t even know to this day how it happened. But it happened.”

“Wow. And you never considered—”

“Never. Not from the second I found out. I wanted the baby. David, on the other hand, was running before the sentence was out of my mouth.” Abby shrugged. “That was fine with me. I didn’t expect anything from him, and I’m just as glad things turned out the way they did.”

“Does Blake see him?” For some reason, Flann hated the idea of Blake feeling rejected or hurt because his father wasn’t in his life.

“Oh, sure. David’s always been in and out of his life. I left it up to Blake as he was growing up to decide how much he wanted to see him. It’s been a couple of years since his last visit. David lives out west with his lover now.”

“Blake’s okay about it?”

Abby smiled, hearing the protectiveness and the concern in Flann’s tone. They were still holding hands, and she didn’t want to let go. “He’s good.”

“Does David know about Blake?”

“Blake told him on the phone. David seemed to take it well, but you just never know until you’re really confronted with it. Besides, the next time David sees him, Blake is likely to be a lot different from the child he remembers.”

“Is he taking hormones?”

“Yes, for about six months.” Abby realized Flann was the first person other than her mother and parents in the support group with whom she’d discussed any of the details of Blake’s transition. Talking about it with someone she trusted helped make all the changes feel less foreign. “I keep looking for changes. There are some, but he still looks baby-faced to me.”

“A lot of boys do at that age.” Flann smiled. “Is it hard, watching him change?”

Abby wanted to say no. Part of her thought she should. Slowly, she nodded. “Sometimes. I think back and remember Blake as a child, trying to see what I missed, trying to pick out the moment when he knew and I should have. I can’t. I feel guilty.”

“You’re amazing,” Flann said softly. “Blake is so fucking lucky.”

Abby grimaced. “I don’t feel amazing. Sometimes I feel completely inadequate. A couple of the friends I told you about shut him out, hurt him. I can’t tell you how much I want to shake every single person who hurts him or might hurt him. And I can’t and I don’t know how to keep it from happening again.”

“Blake seems like a pretty strong, together kid. He’ll be okay. He’ll get some bumps, and it’s got to be damn scary. But he’s got you. That’s probably the single most important thing he needs.”

“I hope so. I hope he and Margie get to be good friends. She’s the kind of friend he needs.”

Flann grinned. “Margie? She’s a freaking Amazon.”

“From what I can tell, all the Rivers siblings are Amazons.”

“You should meet my mother.”

Abby laughed. “Oh, now there’s a line I didn’t expect to hear from you.” As soon as she said it, she flushed. Flann might think she was flirting.

Flann didn’t laugh. “You know what? I think that’s a great idea.” She pulled out her phone, punched in a number, and waited. “Mama? Where are you?…Have you heard from Dad and Harper?…Uh-huh. If everything stays quiet, maybe an hour or two…Uh-huh. Hold on.” Flann held up the phone. “Here’s Blake.”

“What?” Abby took the phone. “Blake? Are you okay? Where—?”

“I’m great. Everything’s cool. Margie’s mom is here. Are you coming home soon?”

Abby hesitated. “I don’t know, honey. I can’t leave until some other doctors show up. Maybe.”

“Hold on.”

Abby frowned. Now what?

“Dr. Remy, this is Ida Rivers.”

Abby sat up straight and released Flann’s hand. Ida Rivers’s voice was kissed with a hint of the South that did nothing to make it any less commanding.

“Hello, Mrs. Rivers. This is Abby Remy.”

“Nobody can work around the clock without food. You’re ten minutes from the house. I can have breakfast ready for you and the rest of the family by the time you get here.”

“Um.” Abby glanced at Flann, who was grinning slightly maniacally. She shot her a glare. “Well, I…”

“I’m tracking down my husband and the rest of my children now. Seven o’clock. You can go back to work after that if needed.”

“If at all possible, of course.”

“That will be just fine. See you at seven.”

Abby held the phone out to Flann. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“Makes sense. Cafeteria is probably not going to open for a while. And it doesn’t take much longer to get to Presley’s than it does to chase down food in town.”

“I suppose we could all use a break and some food. If it’s quiet.”

“I’ll check on the postop patients, and you can get the ER sorted.”

Abby knew when she’d been beaten. “You should let me change the dressing before we leave.”

“Good enough. I’ll meet you down here as soon as I’m finished upstairs.”

Abby stood. “I’ll round up Presley and Carrie.” She paused. “What about Glenn? She’s been up all night.”

Glenn was practically part of the family. Flann would have mentioned inviting her herself in another minute. “Sure.”

“Great.” Abby jumped up and hurried for the door. “I’ll find her.”

“Great,” Flann muttered, ignoring the quick spurt of jealousy. “Terrific.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“Call me if you need me, Angie,” Flann said, clipping the postop order sheet to the front of the patient’s chart. The computer network was iffy with the power outages, and she didn’t want to chance the orders being lost. She’d never really given up the habit of writing notes by hand anyhow. She’d watched her father do it when she’d followed him around as a kid, and the mystique of pulling charts from their racks and delving into the mysteries within still lingered. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

The recovery room nurse, who usually covered the ICU, nodded. “I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t gotten in last night, Flann.”

Flann grinned. “Where else would I be?”

Angie laughed. “I can’t imagine.”

“Besides, Franklin got in and really made a difference.”

“Like old times.” Angie, a fifty-year-old who’d trained at the Rivers’s nursing school before it had shut down, shook her head sadly. “Sometimes I wish we could turn back the clock. I miss the old days.”

“Maybe with the new administration, we can bring back a little of the old too.”

Angie snorted. “You think? Now there’s a new head in the ER. More change.”

“Abby’s great. She’s not going to hurt us.” Flann had seen Abby in action enough to believe what she was saying. And she’d gotten to know her now, believed in her commitment to the Rivers.

“I hope you’re right.”

A patient’s IV machine beeped, and Angie went off to check it. Flann took the stairs down to the ER, eager to see Abby again. She was nowhere in sight but Glenn was at the nurses’ station, filling out a chart. She looked as alert and unfazed as she did at six in the morning at the start of a routine day. Her sandy hair was unruffled, her shoulders straight, her blue eyes crystal clear. Now that Flann thought of it, Glenn was damned good-looking. Just the kind of steady, solid woman who’d appeal to someone looking for a relationship.

“Have you seen Abby?” Flann asked abruptly.

Glenn looked up. “Hey, Flann. She’s in ten, giving discharge instructions to a woman with a fractured wrist.”

“How’s it going down here?”

“Everything’s pretty much cleared out. Abby just checked with fire rescue, and they’ve only got one in the bus. Mrs. Wilcox—shortness of breath again. Andy is set to handle that.”

“Can we sneak out for a little while?”

Glenn nodded. “Sorry I didn’t get up to the OR, but Abby was swamped. I figured it would be more efficient for me to get the pre-ops ready down here so you could just keep them rolling through.”

“It was a good call. Better to get them triaged down here as fast as possible.”

“That’s what Abby thought too. She had things working like clockwork. She’s got a way of getting everybody to put out a hundred and ten percent without even trying.” Glenn grinned. “Abby’s like a general directing troops, but she leads from the front. I’ve never seen the ER click so well.”

Abby, Abby, Abby. Flann bristled a little. “I don’t know, I thought we always did pretty well.”

“Hey, it wasn’t a comment about you. I didn’t mean to suggest—”

“I know. Forget it.” Flann waved her off. Her ego wasn’t so sensitive she couldn’t hear something good about someone else. No doubt Abby was great at her job. She wouldn’t have risen to the top at a competitive program as she’d done without being excellent. Besides, she’d seen for herself how good Abby was. Glenn was obviously taken with her, and that bothered her more than the commentary on how well Flann ran the ER, and that was just plain ridiculous.

“Abby said if you got down here before she was free, to take a look at your leg,” Glenn said. “Three is open.”

“It’s fine. It can wait.”

“That’s not what I heard.” Glenn closed the chart and regarded her with a steady, unwavering gaze.

Flann recalled Glenn had been a ranking officer in the military. She never talked about it, but it showed in her demeanor. She wasn’t going to budge, and Flann had to admit a dressing change was probably a good idea. She blew out a breath. She was being an ass on just about every level. “You’re right. Thanks.”

Glenn was halfway through the dressing change when Abby poked her head in through the curtain. “How’s it looking?”

“Fine,” Flann said from her perch on the treatment table. Glenn sat on a stool in front of her, cleaning the incision with sterile saline.

Abby stepped up behind Glenn, rested a hand lightly on her back for balance, and leaned forward to study Flann’s leg. “It looks pretty good. Some swelling. If you can manage to keep off it for the rest of the day, it would help.”

“I will if I can,” Flann said.

Abby squeezed Glenn’s shoulder. “Thanks for taking care of that, Glenn.”

Glenn glanced up, giving Abby a smile. “No problem.”

“When you’re done, I think we’re clear to sneak out of here for a while. Glenn, can you give me a ride?”

“Sure.”

“We should probably take two cars,” Flann said quickly. “In case we have to come back at separate times. Why don’t you take Presley and Carrie back in Carrie’s car, Glenn? I’ll ride with Abby.”

Abby’s brows rose. “Glenn?”

“Sure.” Glenn rose, wrapped a fresh gauze quickly and efficiently around Flann’s thigh, stripped off her gloves, and washed her hands. “I’ll tell them to meet us in the parking lot.”

“Great.” Flann carefully climbed down from the treatment table and pulled on her scrub pants. She was aware of Abby watching her, and the tingle in her belly that started every time Abby was near ratcheted up a notch. She took her time tying her scrubs, and when she looked up, Abby’s gaze was still on her. Flann couldn’t read what was behind her pensive look, but she knew she liked it. “Ready?”

Abby nodded, still thinking about Flann’s long, agile fingers sliding the green ties through her hands. Clever, sensuous fingers. She turned away. “We should go. We might not have much time.”

Presley met them in the parking lot and gave Abby her keys. “See you there!”

Abby pulled out first, hoping the drive back to Presley’s would be less adventurous than the trip in to the hospital had been. In daylight, everything looked both less forbidding and more devastated than the night before. The road crews must’ve been working around the clock too. Downed trees had been cut and dragged to the side to clear the roads. Uprooted trees and fields smashed flat by the high winds punctuated the countryside. They passed a white farmhouse and red barn looking bucolic in the bright sunlight, tall stalks of corn waving in the fields. A quarter mile farther on, bent and broken cornstalks lay strewn across pastures surrounding a tumbled-down barn and a house with portions of the roof missing.

“This is terrible,” Abby said. “It’s not just property damage. These fields are people’s livelihoods.”

“I know,” Flann said. “It’s still early enough in the season that some of these fields can be replanted, though. Everyone who lives out here is a survivor. Nature has been trying to drive us out for a couple hundred years, but it hasn’t won yet.”

“Have you ever thought about leaving?”

“Oh,” Flann said lightly, “for a while. When I first got to the city for medical school, I was pretty seduced by the…life.”

Abby grinned and shot her a look. “Don’t you mean nightlife?”

Flann grinned back. “Well, it’s not as if there’s an abundance of available females in this area. So, yeah, I was a little taken with the increase in the dating pool.”

Abby laughed. “I don’t doubt it. Where did you go to school?”

“My father’s alma mater. Vanderbilt.”

“Southern girls at that. That must have been a change.”

“It worked out pretty well for my father.”

“But neither you nor Harper came back with a bride.”

“I wasn’t looking for one, and Harper…well, I guess Harper was waiting for Presley.”

Abby smiled, taken aback by the seriousness in Flann’s voice. “That’s a terribly romantic thing to say, Dr. Rivers.”

“What, you don’t think I have any romantic tendencies?”

“I think I’d better not comment on that.”

“Is that what you’re looking for? A romantic?” Flann asked. For some strange reason, Abby’s assumption she wasn’t capable of romance bothered her. Not that she’d ever considered herself romantic or had been looking for romance. Far from it. But Abby’s quick dismissal rankled.

Abby frowned. “How did we get from your love of the city life to my love life?”

“Natural progression.”

“This is my turn, isn’t it?” Abby frowned, feeling oddly displaced. The countryside looked practically foreign despite the bright sunshine and clear skies. She’d traveled the road barely twenty-four hours before, but subtle changes in the landscape, as if someone had rearranged familiar pieces on a chessboard while she hadn’t been looking, left her uneasy and wary. Even the discussion with Flann had started out innocently and veered into areas she’d rather not discuss, areas she’d rather not even think about.

“Yes—turn right.”

Abby signaled and turned in to the drive leading to Presley’s, hoping to derail the strange turn in the conversation. Her personal life was barely existent, and romance had never been on the horizon. She’d been a mother before she’d barely had a chance to date other women. Oh, she’d been tempted now and then during medical school and after to do more than casually date, but there’d just never been time. She’d hardly had the energy to maintain the grueling training schedule while helping to raise Blake. Personal relationships weren’t even a consideration. “I’m not in the market for romance.”

“Is there someone back in the city, then?” Flann asked, a tightness in her voice that sounded almost like anger. “A trail of broken hearts?”

“No,” Abby said, “nothing dramatic at all. I’ve been a little busy the past few years, so…nothing serious.” She wasn’t about to admit to nothing at all. Really, how pathetic would that seem?

“Blake is fifteen, isn’t he?”

“Almost sixteen,” Abby said.

“So in sixteen years, nothing serious?”

Abby looked away from the road long enough to meet Flann’s questioning gaze. “That’s a little personal.”

“I know.” Flann didn’t sound the least bit apologetic.

Clearly, Flannery Rivers would not be put off when she wanted something. Abby had never run into anyone who probed beneath the surface of her personal shields with such unabashed arrogance and persistence. She ought to be irritated. She was irritated, but more with herself than Flann. Irritated because she didn’t want to keep her shields up. Protecting herself, protecting her privacy, protecting Blake’s privacy, was exhausting. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d let anyone see the needs and hopes and desires she harbored beneath the surface. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d thought of them herself. Maybe the last time she and Presley had talked, really talked, before Abby had gone off to medical school and Presley had left to pursue the life her family had raised her to live.

“You first,” Abby said, thinking a reversal might dissuade Flann from probing any further. “What are you looking for?”

“That’s easy. Someone smart, adventurous, with her life together, and no serious aspirations.”

Abby nodded wryly. Why was she disappointed? “A good-time girl.”

“More or less. I’d prefer she’d only be having a good time with me.”

Abby raised a brow as she pulled up in front of Presley’s house. “Fun for how long?”

Flann grinned. “Until we aren’t having fun anymore.”

“For how long?” Abby shut off the engine and turned to face her. “For how long will it be just fun?”

Flann’s grin disappeared and a muscle jumped along her jaw. “I don’t know. I don’t think I’m cut out for anything else.”

“I’m not sure I believe that,” Abby said quietly.

“You should. Your turn,” Flann said just as quietly.

Abby shrugged. “I used to think, a long time ago, I’d have a traditional family—spouse, couple of kids, a comfortable house, a few animals. And my career, of course.”

“2.5 kids, station wagon, and a house in the suburbs?”

“Not exactly. I grew up in the suburbs, but my grandparents had a place in the Adirondacks. Ten acres on a lake. I’m not looking for a lake, but I’d like to have a place where the neighbors aren’t too close, where my children…where Blake can have a dog and we wouldn’t have to worry about traffic.” Abby laughed. “Maybe even a few chickens.”

Flann laughed too. “You said you used to think that. You don’t anymore?”

“Tell me about your mother,” Abby said. She didn’t want to talk about herself anymore. She didn’t want to think about a relationship, and even if she did, Flann wasn’t the person she wanted to share her dreams with.

“My mother?” Flann’s voice held a note of surprise and affection. “She’s…she’s amazing. If it weren’t for her, I don’t know how any of us would’ve turned out, really.”

“What about your dad? From what I understand, everyone at the hospital thinks he’s close to God.”

“My father is a remarkable physician, and a good father. I love him, but like most doctors in his situation, he wasn’t around a lot when we were growing up. When we were hurt, when we were scared, when Kate…” Flann blew out a breath. “Well, anyhow, my mother is the rock our family rests on.”

“Kate?” Abby couldn’t remember anyone mentioning Kate.

“Our sister between Carson and Margie. She died of leukemia when she was eleven.”

“Oh God, I’m really sorry. I didn’t know.”

“No reason you should have. My father was there, as much as he could be, but it was my mother who was always there, for everyone, all the time. More than anyone.” Flann grimaced. “More than me, for sure. I…I didn’t handle Kate being sick very well.”

“You couldn’t have been very old yourself.”

“Old enough to be a hell of a lot stronger than I was.” Flann’s voice was tinged with bitterness and self-reproach. “Harper was the strong one. No surprise there. I decided to rebel instead. I was pretty much a jerk, really.”

Abby grasped Flann’s hand and squeezed. “That must have been a terrible time for everyone. And not everyone handles that kind of loss the same, especially not at first.”

“Yeah, well, my mother and Harper did just fine,” Flann said softly. “You’ll like my mother. You’re like her.”

“I am?” Abby caught her breath. “Why?”

Flann drew their clasped hands onto her thigh, gripping her fingers tightly. Her dark eyes held no levity, only solemn sincerity. “She’s strong, fierce, protective of us. She’s never let any of us down, ever.”

“Thank you,” Abby said softly. “I’m not at all sure I’m that strong, but I’m honored that you think so.”

“I know so.”

The front door opened and a woman looking like a regal version of Harper walked out. She called down to them, “Are you planning to bring her in for breakfast, Flannery, or let her starve out here?”

Flann grinned and pushed open the car door just as Carrie pulled in behind them. “We’re coming, Mama.”

Abby followed her out, for once as happy as Flann to pretend all that mattered was medicine and an occasional good time. She already liked the serious side of Flann a little too much for comfort, or safety.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Abby climbed the steps to meet Flannery’s mother, more nervous than she had any reason to be. She rarely worried about the impression she made, but this meeting had an air of importance others didn’t. She remembered the way Flann spoke of her mother, with deep affection and a little awe. This woman was Flann’s hero. Abby held out her hand. “It’s good to meet you.”

“I’m sorry it took a night like last night to get us in the same house.” Ida squeezed Abby’s hand in both of hers. “My apologies, Dr. Remy, for not having you out to dinner when you arrived.”

“Oh no, please. Call me Abby, and apologies are not—”

“Nonsense. My daughter knows better. Now go into the kitchen, you two.” Ida slid an arm around Abby’s waist and gently but firmly led her forward.

Helplessly, Abby glanced over her shoulder at Flann, who merely grinned, shrugged, and fell into line.

The kitchen looked completely different than the last time Abby’d seen it. The table had been righted and put back into its original position, the rain-streaked floor scrubbed, the counters wiped down, and the windows cleaned. The one over the sink was cracked, she noted, and the back door stood open to the morning without benefit of the screen door, which was propped against the railing. “You’ve done a lot of work in here. What else can I help you with?”

“Not a thing,” Ida said. “Blake and Margie pitched in. You can help me best by sitting right there at the table and drinking the coffee I just made.”

“Where is my son? Not in the barn, I hope.” The box of chicks still sat in the corner with the new addition of two lamps shining into it. “I know they were worried about the kittens.”

“I told them the barn was off-limits until Flannery and Harper got a good look at it in daylight. I sent the two of them off to shower. They both looked as if they’d crawled out of a mud pit.”

“Uh…” Abby said.

“Separate bathrooms,” Ida said without turning around. She set a flame under a cast-iron pan and laid strips of bacon into it. “What’s wrong with your leg, Flannery O’Connor?”

“Just a scratch, Mama.”

“Then why are you limping?”

Ida hadn’t raised her voice or even glanced at Flann, but Flann actually squirmed in her chair. Abby watched, fascinated, and shook her head when Flann sent her an imploring look.

“A little stiff, that’s all. It’s fine.”

“Mm-hmm.” Ida cracked brown-shelled eggs into a big ceramic bowl. “How are things at the hospital?”

“Under control, Mama.” Obviously relieved at the change in subject, Flann poured coffee for Abby, set a small pitcher of cream next to her cup, and sat next to her. “Abby’s got the ER humming like a watch.”

“Nothing too serious last night, I hope.”

Flannery grabbed a roll from a basket on the table, broke off a piece, and munched it. She passed the basket to Abby, who took one, suddenly ravenous. “Mostly broken bones, although Fred Endee gave us a little bit of a challenge with a punctured lung.”

Flannery’s mother shot her a look. “He’s going to be all right, isn’t he? You know his wife hasn’t been doing well for the last couple of years. If the both of them are laid up, it will be a problem taking care of Patty at home.”

“I hope to have him out of bed tomorrow and home in a couple of days. I’ll ask Carson to get visiting nurses to stop by the house to check on Patty until then.”

Ida nodded. “That sounds fine.”

Presley, Carrie, and Glenn trooped into the kitchen from the back porch.

“Oh my God, Ida, you’re a saint!” Carrie beelined for the coffeepot.

Glenn pulled out a chair next to Abby. “I just called the ER. Dewers made it in, it’s quiet, and unless something changes, Dewers says for you to take half a shift off.”

Six hours free. Abby sighed. “Glenn. Thank you for calling. My brain must not be firing on all cylinders, or I would have done that myself as soon as I got here.”

“You would have as soon as you had something to eat,” Flann interjected abruptly. “Give yourself a break, Abby. You’re running on fumes.”

Abby stared, surprised at the edge in Flann’s tone. “I didn’t do anything the rest of you—”

“Flann’s right,” Glenn said, resting a hand on Abby’s forearm. “You saw twice as many patients as everyone else last night. You deserve to coast a few minutes, Abs.”

Flann abruptly pushed back her chair and stalked out onto the back porch. Abby squelched the urge to follow. She’d seen Flann irritated, exhilarated, cool and calm, and forceful and commanding. She’d never seen the dark, brooding expression in her eyes before, and she wanted to soothe it away. Bad idea. Not her problem, and definitely not her woman to soothe. Still, the urge to go after her gnawed at her like an unfinished refrain.

Presley paced, coffee cup in hand. “Ida, have you heard from Harper? I haven’t been able to reach her for the last few hours.”

“The last I heard from her and her father was about midnight. They were heading out to start answering calls. I imagine—”

“Hey, baby.” The back door opened wide and Harper strode in, her dark eyes alight and fixed on Presley.

Presley set down her cup and launched herself at Harper all in one motion. “How are you? I was really worried.”

Harper gathered her up, kissed her soundly, and after a long moment, let her go. “Everything’s good. Just tired.”

Edward Rivers entered, glanced around the room, nodded to Abby and Glenn as if their presence was completely expected, and kissed his wife on the cheek. “Good morning, my dear. How was your night?”

“I checked on the neighbors up and down River Road. Everyone was doing fine.” She wiped her hands on a towel and pressed her palm to her husband’s cheek. “Carson, Bill, and the baby are fine. They had some flooding and they’ll be busy with cleanup for a while, but nothing too bad.”

“Good, thank you.”

He covered her hand with his, turned her palm up, and kissed it. Ida smiled and turned back to the stove. Edward took off his suit jacket, shook out the wrinkles, and hung it carefully on a coat tree in the corner. Tall, fit, and clear-eyed, he exuded quiet confidence. His white shirt had lost the creases in the sleeves, but he nevertheless looked as crisp and fresh as when Abby had been introduced to him in Presley’s office the first time. Abby could see Harper in his quiet surety, just as she could see Flann in Ida’s brisk authority and effortless command. Edward accepted a cup of coffee from Harper and sat at the head of the table. Everyone else filled in on either side. Flannery, Abby noticed with an odd twist of disappointment, sat at the opposite end of the table and did not glance her way.

Keeping half an ear out for some sign of Blake and Margie, Abby joined in as Edward, Harper, and Flannery brought each other up to date on patients and follow-up situations. Presley and Carrie, both looking tired but content, sipped their coffee and quietly made plans to draw up emergency protocols for similar situations.

Just as Ida began placing breakfast on the table, Blake and Margie tumbled into the kitchen like a pair of playful puppies. Blake’s hair was damp and stood on end as if he’d toweled it dry and not bothered to comb it. He wasn’t usually so casual about his appearance, especially not recently. He wore a blue-denim button-down shirt and faded jeans, both at least a size too big for him, and a wide grin. “Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, hon—Blake. Hi, Margie.”

“Hi, Dr. Remy.” Margie had scooped her long blond hair into a green John Deere cap and pulled the damp strands through the back tab. She wore shorts and a scrub top with flip-flops. “Hi, Daddy.”

“Good morning, darlin’,” Edward said, pausing in his conversation with Harper.

Ida said, “Presley, I hope you don’t mind, I raided your laundry room and grabbed some clothes from the clean pile for these two. I recognized Harper’s and figured they’d do better for Blake.”

“No, of course I don’t mind.” Presley smiled at Harper and took her hand.

Blake dropped into a free chair and Margie took one beside him. Abby couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him so unselfconscious and confident. She caught her lip between her teeth and swallowed hard. She just had to make everything here work out.

Ida took her seat and everyone attacked the food. The breakfast was delicious, although Abby was almost too tired to eat it. Now that she was sitting, she realized how long it’d been since she’d had to work straight through the night with no relief. Everyone at the table was tired, but an undercurrent of exhilaration filled the room all the same. They’d faced down a crisis and everyone had spent the night doing what they did best. Despite the fatigue, the satisfaction won out.

Abby joined Ida at the sink when everyone had finished and started piling their plates on the counter by the sink. “Really, I’d like to help.”

“Ordinarily, Flannery and Harper would have dish duty,” Ida said, rinsing dishes and stacking them. “Under the circumstances, they’ll get a pass this morning. You too.”

“Oh, really, I’d like to—”

“I’m just going to fill the dishwasher and run it, and the rest of these can wait until later. Everyone should take a nap.”

“That should include you too, then,” Abby said. “You’ve been up all night.”

Ida smiled. “When you raise a house full of medical people, you get used to that. I’ll get my rest this afternoon when you all head back to the Rivers.”

“You’ve raised a wonderful bunch, every one of them,” Abby said.

“I’d be bragging if I agreed, but I can’t argue.” A glow of pride passed over Ida’s strong, bold features. “Your son seems to have handled the excitement of the evening very well himself.”

Abby smiled at Blake. He and Margie were discussing something while staring earnestly into the chicks’ box. “He seems to have fallen in love with all things farm related. I have no idea why. I would have sworn he would always be a city boy.”

“Some just take to it, like it’s in the blood. He might be one of those.”

“Margie’s a wonderful teacher.” Abby met Ida’s steady gaze. “She’s just the kind of friend I was hoping he’d find.”

“It looks like the two of them have taken to each other.”

Abby tensed. Blake hadn’t talked to her about how he identified sexually, but his affection for Margie was obvious. Maybe Ida wouldn’t find Blake ideal friend material if she thought their friendship might become more than that.

“It’s nice to see two kindred spirits connect,” Ida said.

A weight lifted from Abby’s heart. “It is.”

“Although I’ll wager the two of them are capable of raising a bit of Cain, if I know my daughter.”

Abby laughed. “The two of us ought to be able to handle them.”

“Most assuredly.” Ida glanced over to where Flannery and Harper were discussing patients who needed follow-up. “Exactly how serious is Flannery’s leg?”

Abby hesitated.

“She was limping when she came in, and she’s favoring it even when she’s sitting down,” Ida said.

“I guess the kids didn’t tell you they were in the barn when it came down during the storm.”

“They were too busy trying to explain why there was a rooster perched on top of one of the kitchen chairs when I came in this morning.”

Abby folded her arms, just the memory of the night before giving her a chill. “Flann went after them when we saw the tornado touch down. I think she probably saved them from serious injury. She sustained a fairly deep laceration on her leg. It should be fine. I sutured it this morning.”

“Did you now.”

“I am an ER physician. It wasn’t—”

“Oh, I have no doubt you’re more than qualified. Flannery, however, isn’t an easy patient. There were times when she was younger I practically had to tie her down so her father could to tend to some injury or other.”

Abby smiled, watching Flann run a hand through her hair, a habit that only left her tousled locks more ruffled and her looking even more attractive. She was dangerously good-looking, and Abby had to work at not staring whenever they were in the same space. “I found threats to be effective.”

Ida chuckled. “You seem to be fitting in very nicely.”

Abby met Ida’s gaze. “I hope so. I want things to work out with…here.”

“I can’t think of any reason why they shouldn’t.”

At that moment, Flannery caught Abby’s gaze, and the dark brooding stare slowly turned to a simmering perusal that bordered on indecent. Deliciously indecent. Abby’s heart sped up, and heat flooded her cheeks. She hoped Flannery’s mother didn’t notice it, but of course not very much escaped Ida Rivers’s notice.

“Now,” Ida said, “a few hours’ sleep will do you good. This place has a slew of bedrooms on the second floor. Presley and Harper have the room on the left at the top of the stairs and Carrie’s is on the right all the way at the back. Any of the other ones are fine.”

Abby needed to wrangle her emotions back in line more than she needed sleep. Escape was her best option. At least then she wouldn’t be anywhere near Flann in a weakened state, since she couldn’t seem to resist her outrageous appeal. “I should just drive Blake home and—”

“Nonsense. That will take extra time, and you’re already tired. You could get a call at any time.” Ida crooked a finger at Flannery. “Flannery, take Abby upstairs and find a bedroom for her. You too. Get some sleep.”

Flannery rose, her grin widening as Abby blushed furiously. “Sure thing, Mama.”

Abby surrendered. “Blake, I’ll be upstairs. If you need—”

“All’s good, Mom. See you.”

“Right.” Abby sighed and followed Flann into the hall and up the wide curving staircase. “Outnumbered and outvoted.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Flannery pushed open a big oak door in the center of the hall. “Sorry if my mother made you uncomfortable.”

“No, she didn’t,” Abby said. “To be perfectly honest, it’s nice to be so well taken care of, I’m just not used to it.”

“That’s too bad.” Flann motioned Abby inside. “You don’t need it, maybe, but you deserve to be tended to now and then.”

Abby laughed, embarrassed by the attention and a little breathless from the yearning Flann’s words stirred. Flann kept blindsiding her with these tender statements out of nowhere that struck a deep chord inside her. What had she revealed that let Flann see her secret needs so clearly, when no one else ever had? She turned to the room to hide her confusion. “This is a fabulous place. I could hide out here forever!”

The big, bright, high-ceilinged room faced a sweeping panorama of green pastures and distant mountains beneath a robin’s-egg-blue sky. Swaying branches of an oak tree framed the bay window with its wide, deep rose-patterned cushions, and the early morning sunlight fanned across wide plank floors in a golden tide. A big four-poster bed stood against one wall, the covers turned down, and a pile of white ruffled pillows beckoned. It looked so inviting she almost wept. “I didn’t realize how tired I was. I’m not so sure it’s a good idea to go to sleep.”

Flann let the door ease closed behind her. Abby’s face glowed in the slivers of sunlight showering her form. She’d pulled out the tie holding back her hair and thick waves tumbled onto her shoulders. Flann’s fingers itched to dive into them. Her throat suddenly dry, she rasped, “A little sleep is better than none, especially if it gets busy later. A couple hours, and we’ll head back.”

Abby was suddenly aware they were alone and the bed suddenly looked less inviting and a lot more threatening. Flann stood absolutely still only inches away, but she seemed to fill the space with pent-up energy and heat. Abby pulsed inside, a warning and a plea. She couldn’t look at her, didn’t dare see her own desire reflected in Flann’s dark gaze, couldn’t bear the disappointment if she didn’t. “Yes, well, you should get some sleep too.”

Somewhere else, anywhere but here. Go. Go away before I beg you not to.

“I will, in a little while. I never really thanked you for looking after me earlier,” Flann said.

Abby took a breath, chanced a glance into her eyes. God, she had beautiful eyes. Bittersweet chocolate this morning, flecked with gold. They spoke, her eyes, of passion and pleasure. “You don’t need to thank me. You might have saved my son’s life, and you got hurt in the process. And even if that hadn’t been the case, I wanted to look after you.”

“Did you?” Flann brushed a strand of hair from Abby’s throat. Her fingers lingered.

“Yes.”

“You think I need looking after, do you?”

“Oh no, not you. I forgot, you don’t need anything except a little fun and companionship.” Abby meant to say it lightly, but it came out more seriously than she intended. “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate and—”

“You’re right, most of the time. You’re not right now, though.” Flann clasped her upper arms gently and drew her forward. “Right now I need something else. Something very, very specific.”

“Flann,” Abby protested.

“You, Abby. Right now I want you so much I can’t think.” Flann slid her palms from Abby’s shoulders and down onto her forearms, tugging her until they were a whisper apart. “You looked really good sitting at the table this morning. Like you belonged there. You fit this place, Abby, this world.”

“Flann, I don’t—”

“Don’t think.” Flann leaned close. “Just take, Abby. Take.”

Impossibly, Abby couldn’t think. Somewhere a voice, her voice, cried Yes, for once, yes, take.

Flann kissed her, the first silky caress of her mouth barely more than a whisper, gently at first, building with each teasing pass to possessive and sure.

Abby stiffened, swamped by a hunger she’d never experienced. A little afraid, and terribly greedy for more. Flann held her firmly, unapologetically, as if Abby belonged to her. She’d never been held with so much authority, never been kissed with so much assuredness. Their bodies weren’t quite touching, but heat enveloped her. She tilted her head to get more of Flann’s mouth, slid her arms around her neck, breathed her in. Her nipples tensed and her thighs trembled. Another kiss stole through her, lightning fast, heat lightning, setting her ablaze. She pressed closer, heard herself moan softly.

Flann groaned and swept her hand down Abby’s back, tugging her scrub shirt up and spreading her fingers over Abby’s lower back. Her touch was a claim. Mine. Mine. Abby arched into her, pressing close, closer, her heart beating against Flann’s.

“God, you feel so good.” Abby laced her fingers through Flann’s hair, cupping the back of her neck, sealing the kiss as Flann’s lips parted and they delved deeper.

“Abby,” Flann groaned again, leaning back on the door and dragging Abby hard against her. A dizzying swell of desire rocketed through her. Flames raced across her skin, burning her with pleasure. Abby tasted so sweet, like hot honey on fresh biscuits, rich and full. Her kisses were wild, and so, so ready. Flann swept her palms down Abby’s sides and up again, thumbs stroking the undersurfaces of her breasts. “I want my hands all over you.”

“Your leg,” Abby gasped.

“It’s fine,” Flann growled, kissing her again. Abby’s breasts were firm against her own, the pressure a tease that shot to the pit of her stomach. Abby’s skin was soft and Flann let her hand drift beneath the top of her scrub pants until her fingers feathered the swell of her ass. Abby fit, every curve and sensuous plane of her. Their bodies were perfectly aligned. Every tilt of her head, every sweep of her tongue and Abby was there, answering. Passion for passion, need for need.

“Come to bed,” Flann gasped against Abby’s ear.

Abby pressed her palms flat against Flann’s upper chest and pushed away an inch. “Flannery, we can’t. Your family’s right downstairs.”

“They’re downstairs, we’re up here.” Flann’s eyes were dangerously dark, ravenous.

“I’m not going to bed with you.”

“Why not?”

Abby shook her head. She’d lost her mind. She couldn’t be kissing Flannery Rivers. “Because I’m not. I’m not—I’m not a good-time girl, Flann. And this is a really, really bad idea.”

Flann grinned, a ferocious smile that reminded Abby of a lethal predator about to pounce, and tightened her hold on Abby’s waist. “It’s a fucking great idea. Just kiss me again.”

“Absolutely not. I’m sorry, I don’t have any excuse. I—”

Flann’s eyes sparked, flame in obsidian. “What excuse, Abby? We’re both adults. You want me, I want you. What’s so complicated about that?”

Abby jerked back. “Really? That’s all it takes? A little bit of lust and you just follow your hormones wherever they lead? Well, I don’t. I’ve got a lot more to think about than taking care of an itch.”

“Maybe you should try scratching that itch sometime. You might find out you like it.” Flann’s voice was low but nearly a snarl.

“When and if I decide to scratch, it’s not going to be with you.” Abby managed to extract herself from Flann’s grip. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to try to get a little sleep before I have to go back to work. I’d like you to leave.”

Flann’s jaw clenched, and she battled down the haze of lust. What the fuck was she doing, with Abby of all people? She reached behind her, found the doorknob. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I apologize for taking advantage where I wasn’t invited.”

Abby’s head spun. “Advantage? Hardly, I—”

“I can assure you, it won’t happen again.” Flann yanked the door open. “I’ll let Glenn know she’ll need to ride back to the hospital with you.”

“What? I…”

Flann disappeared, and Abby stared at the closed door. Dammit. How had she let that happen? Flann thought she’d taken advantage? Please. She’d practically climbed up Flannery like a tree. Where had all that need come from, and how did she get rid of it? Her lips still tingled. Her belly throbbed with the demand for release. She hadn’t let it happen, she’d wanted it, almost from the first moment she’d seen Flannery Rivers in the ER. Flannery was the forbidden fruit she’d secretly been longing to taste. Well, now she’d tasted her, and she’d just have to figure out a way to stop wanting more.

*

Flann stared at the closed door and cursed viciously under her breath. Of all the stupid, asinine moves she’d ever made in her life, jumping on Abby Remy had to be at the top of the list. She never made a move on a woman that she hadn’t planned in advance. She always judged the field, made sure she had a good read on the signals, analyzed the defense—and the offense, for that matter—and mapped her play down to the last detail. She didn’t like complications and had learned early on to recognize when she and her date weren’t working the same game plan. When she’d first discovered girls, she thought everyone was as eager and crazy to explore sex as she was. It didn’t take too many hysterical breakups and broken hearts—fortunately short-term at that age—for her to realize otherwise. By the time Harper had hauled her down to the tree house and lectured her on the right way to go about treating a girl, especially one she wanted to have sex with, she’d pretty much figured it out for herself. She’d gotten herself into a few other snags in college and medical school, mostly from dating more than one girl at a time, and she’d finally given that up too. Now she was strictly a serial dater—usually short-term—and she made sure the game plan was clear from the beginning.

Until tonight. She’d thrown away the playbook where Abby was concerned. She’d just walked up to the plate and started swinging away. Christ. She turned on her heel and stomped down the stairs, nearly bumping into Harper and Presley at the bottom.

“I thought you were headed to be—” Presley began.

“Changed my mind.” Flann swerved around them, avoided the kitchen and her mother, and escaped through the side door at the far end of the hall. Once outside she took a deep breath of morning air. A layer of ozone lingered, biting at her eyes, and her skin instantly misted with sweat. All the same, the sky was clear and promised a brilliant day. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, waiting for her heart rate to come down and her body to lose the razor edge of arousal that had stripped her control and her reason. When she had half a brain back, she strode toward the barn. She’d never be able to sleep, and even if she could, she wasn’t about to go back upstairs and stretch out on a bed with Abby a room away. The state she was in, she’d probably end up scratching at Abby’s door like some pitiful stray, begging to be let in for crumbs.

“Fuck.”

“What’s the matter, Flann?” Margie said, coming around the corner of the barn.

Flann growled. “What the hell are you doing out here?”

Blake appeared behind Margie, his arms full of kittens. Belatedly, Flann noticed Margie had one tucked under her arm.

“I thought I told you not to go in that barn until—”

Glenn stepped into view. “Harper and I checked it out a few minutes ago. That one corner is pretty bad. You all are lucky no one got hurt any worse.” She scratched a tiny kitten head cradled in Blake’s arms. “These guys were raising hell in the hayloft. We put a ladder up against the side to get them out through the hatch. The kids didn’t go inside.”

Flann raked a hand through her hair. “Right. Sorry. How’s it look?”

“It’s salvageable. The roof needs shoring up in the back, about a quarter of the slates are gone or broken and need to be replaced, and we’ll need to put on new siding.” Glenn dropped a hand on Blake’s shoulder. “Luckily, we’ve got a pretty good crew. As soon as Harper says the word, we’ll get going.”

“I’ll talk to her. Maybe next weekend we can get started.”

“Good enough.”

“Glenn,” Flann added with calm she didn’t feel, “I’m going to head over to my place. Can you grab a ride with Abby when she wakes up?”

Glenn shot Flann an appraising look and nodded. “Sure. No problem.”

Flann turned away as the trio continued to the house. Glenn and Abby—perfect match. Perfect. Duty done. Now she could forget all about Abby and the hot, hard press of Abby’s body cleaving to hers or the way Abby tilted her head to deepen the kiss, guiding Flann right where she wanted her. God, the woman was all flame and sweet temptation. And off-limits.

The barn had taken a beating. The chicken coop they’d built just before the storm hit was miraculously still standing. Sections of roof had blown away but most of the structure remained. Glenn was right. The damage was primarily to the exterior. The barn was worth saving, and they could do it.

“What’s the problem?” Harper said from behind her.

Flann didn’t turn around. “No problem.”

“Didn’t look that way when you were storming down the stairs.”

“Leave it alone, Harp.”

“Something happen with Abby?”

“Nothing happened.” Flann gritted her teeth. “Why don’t you go find your perfect woman and curl up in your perfect house and have perfect sex and leave me the fuck alone?”

Harper debated tackling her, dragging her to the ground, and pummeling her until she talked. It would be faster and probably easier for both of them. However, their mother was in the kitchen, and they’d catch hell if she found out, and she was too damn tired to wrestle anyhow. She stepped up beside Flann and stared at the mess of the barn. “What did you do?”

“Don’t you ever get tired of being the family hero?”

“It’s a burden, I’ll admit,” Harper said quietly, “but I’ve learned to bear it.”

Flann barked a laugh. “You ass.”

Harper grinned. “Since we both know I’ve made plenty of mistakes, I’ll take that comment as self-directed. What’d you do?”

Flann gripped a handful of hair and twisted. The pain cleared her head a little but didn’t make her feel any better. “I kissed her.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised,” Harper said. “You’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

“Now you’re a mind reader as well as a saint?”

“You’ve been practically drooling every time you look at her.”

“Bullshit.”

“Have it your own way. You kissed her. And?”

“Let’s just say it wasn’t welcome, and I should’ve known that from the beginning.”

“Did you barge in with your usual lack of finesse? Maybe you just caught her off guard.”

“Fuck you,” Flann said for form, but she couldn’t muster up much heat. “It was a mistake, all right?”

“Why was it a mistake?”

“That should be obvious.”

“Not to me,” Harper said. “You’re single, she’s single, you’ve got the hots for her, and if I’m not mistaken, she’s been sending you a few appreciative looks too.”

“Oh, for chrissakes, Harper. It’s not about hormones.”

Harper stared. “Excuse me?”

“It’s not about wanting to get laid, okay? Abby’s—she’s just not somebody I want to fool around with, okay? She’s got a kid, she’s got a new job, a whole new life to get settled into. Christ, she’s actually got a life. The last thing I want, or she wants—which she made abundantly clear—is for us to get mixed up in anything.”

“I thought you said you just kissed her. Was there a lot more you left out?”

“No.”

“Sounds like a lot of overreacting to me.”

“Look,” Flann said. “It was a bad idea. I know it. She knows it. Won’t happen again.”

“Flann,” Harper said, “if you care—”

“I don’t, okay?” Flann turned and stalked away. “I don’t.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

Abby opened her eyes in an unfamiliar room, sunlight washing over her face. The ornate tin ceiling was painted a soothing taupe. A breeze fluttered through the open window, scented sweetly with hay and clover. Had she really slept? She must have. A collage of memories bombarded her. Presley’s farm. The beautiful bedroom. The storm. The long night in the ER and the morning…Flann. Oh God, Flann. Heat stroked through her, settling unerringly in the pit of her stomach. Flann’s kisses—arrogant and unapologetic, simmering and demanding. Her kissing Flann back, just as greedy. Where had the greed, the need, come from? She’d kissed women before, felt desire before, but never such all-consuming hunger. The mindless, endless want haunted her still. Her breasts tingled with the memory of Flann’s hands just barely grazing her flesh. Her clitoris swelled and pulsed. The ache between her thighs grew heavier, an unfamiliar and ecstatic beat. How easy it would’ve been to say yes. Her body was still saying it. Her heart and mind, though, were retreating from emotions and sensations she’d never expected and wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to embrace.

Abby pushed the covers aside and swung her legs over the bed. Sometime in her sleep coma she’d shed her clothes. They lay in a heap by the bed. She brushed her hand over her breasts and down her belly, experiencing the swell and planes of flesh as if for the first time. This body, alive with sensation, felt nearly as unfamiliar as the longing that even now rose through her. She hadn’t just opened her eyes in a strange room, she’d awakened in a body transformed to a world that looked and smelled and felt different than the day before. She laughed out loud. Sleeping Beauty indeed, roused from oblivion by a kiss. And in Flann’s case, the handsome prince couldn’t have been handsomer, but Abby’s erstwhile prince had been anything but gentle and refined. More a marauder than a royal courtier, storming the castle to make her claim. Flann had urged her to take, and she had, but she’d wanted to be taken as well.

Come to bed, Flann’s dark eyes commanded.

And Abby’d almost said yes.

“But I didn’t,” Abby whispered. She was no fairy-tale princess, there was no prince in the guise of a drop-dead-gorgeous surgeon coming to save her when she didn’t need saving, and the only fairy-tale ending she needed was a nice stable life with no drama and a secure future for her and her son. And if her body thought otherwise, there were logical reasons for that. She was, after all, living breathing flesh, and she knew very well where desire came from: the pulse of blood, the rush of hormones, the burst of pheromones that ignited neural pathways. All perfectly rational and explainable. No reason to attach any extreme significance to that kiss. Okay, those kisses, plural. Now that she’d had time to slow down, take a metaphorical breath, she was simply aware of sensations she hadn’t had time to acknowledge before. And other than that, life went on just as it had before. Still the same responsibilities, the same obligations, the same plan to fulfill. And right now, that plan included taking care of her son and getting her butt—her naked butt—to work.

Instantly, she saw herself naked in Flann’s arms, and after seeing Flann’s bare legs more than once, she had no trouble imagining the rest of her unclothed. The pounding between her thighs jumped into overdrive. For a millisecond she contemplated sliding back under the sheets and finishing the fantasy with her hand between her thighs.

Wonderful. Now she’d regressed to the age of fourteen. When exactly had she lost all control of her senses?

Resolutely, she gathered up the crumpled scrubs and prayed the bathroom was nearby. A shower would make all the difference. At this point, she’d even try a cold shower and see if the old adage was true. Spending the rest of the day in a state of unrequited arousal was not her idea of fun. She halted at the end of the bed and took in the small wicker basket someone had placed just inside the door with a neat stack of scrubs and an array of toiletries. She opened the folded note atop the pile.

Bathroom is across the hall on your right. I thought you could use these. Talk to you later, Pres.

“I’m going to kiss you for this.” Abby quickly pulled on the old scrubs, picked up the basket, and dashed across the hall to the bathroom. The doors up and down the hall were closed and she couldn’t help wondering if Flann slept behind one of them. As soon as the thought occurred to her, she saw Flann and Carrie wrapped up together. The image prompted a mental snarl, and she twisted the shower dial hard enough to send a blast of water splashing onto the tiles outside the enclosure. She yanked off the old scrubs, pushed them into a clothes hamper in the corner, and stepped under the spray.

After the first few minutes with her arms braced on the wall and hot water beating a tattoo on her back, she started to think rationally again. She’d sent Flann on her way, not that she’d really had any choice. They couldn’t very well have sex in Presley’s house with half the hospital plus Flann’s parents and her son in attendance! That was beside the point anyhow—she didn’t want to have sex with Flann. Okay, she did, but not in the real world. Just in the little slice of fantasy world that had bled over into hers when she wasn’t looking. Flann and Carrie were a much better match—hell, Flann had practically described Carrie when she’d said what she was looking for in a woman. Bright, beautiful, sexy, and not ready to settle down. If Flann had pulled her Prince Charming routine on Carrie, all the better.

Yes. Better for everyone.

Abby resolved to put the whole issue of who had slept where out of her mind. After a long sumptuous shower, she dressed, toweled her hair dry, slipped into the clogs Flann had lent her what felt like a year ago, and headed downstairs.

Carrie sat alone at the kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee. Abby hesitated at the doorway, that morning’s kiss suddenly looming large. If Carrie and Flann had something going on, the last thing she wanted to do was get in the middle. She not only liked Carrie, but Carrie was Presley’s good friend. Now she was even happier she’d sent Flann away. “Morning.”

“More or less.” Carrie grinned. “Hot coffee, biscuits on the counter, and ham in that covered dish next to them.”

“There is a fairy godmother,” Abby muttered, her hunger making itself known with a vengeance. She poured coffee, grabbed a biscuit and several slices of ham, and sat down across from Carrie. “Mrs. Rivers?”

Carrie shook her head. “Lila. Presley’s housekeeper. She was here a few hours ago, apparently.”

“I forgot she cooks too.”

Carrie grinned. “That’s an understatement. I’m really gonna miss that when I move out.”

“I can’t believe the wedding is in just a few weeks.”

“And we’ve still got a lot of planning to do.” Carrie’s eyes brightened.

“Whatever you need me to do, just let me know.”

“Oh, don’t worry, you’ll be plenty busy.”

Abby finished the biscuit and ham and got up for a coffee refill. “More coffee?”

Carrie handed her the cup. “Thanks.”

“Where’s everyone else?” Abby tried to sound casual. She didn’t know how she’d feel seeing Flann again, but the sooner she did and they got back onto neutral ground, the better. She’d be working with Flann more closely than with anyone else at the hospital, and she wanted their relationship to be cordial. Hopefully, they could just treat the kiss as what it was—a spontaneous physical encounter born out of lowered inhibitions brought on by fatigue and the aftermath of the crisis. Flann undoubtedly was regretting it just as much as she was right now.

“Margie and Blake are asleep somewhere—I think in the sitting room. Harper’s parents left right after breakfast. Glenn and Harper are around somewhere, and I think Presley might still be asleep.”

“And Flann?” Abby tensed, waiting for Carrie to say Flann was still asleep somewhere too, possibly in her bed.

“Oh, I thought you probably knew,” Carrie said. “Flann left hours ago. I was just getting ready to go to bed and she borrowed my car. I think Glenn is looking to ride with you.”

“Right.” Abby handed her the coffee and sat down again. “She didn’t get any sleep, then.”

“Glenn?” Carrie colored faintly. “I’m not sure.”

“I meant Flann.”

Carrie regarded her over the top of her coffee cup. “She said she was going home. If I know Flann, she’s probably back at the hospital by now.”

“Of course,” Abby said cheerfully. Could she be any more obvious?

“In case you were wondering,” Carrie said lightly, “we’re not an item.”

“That’s really none of my business,” Abby said, caught between embarrassment and relief, and uncomfortable with both reactions.

“Okay, but just being clear. She’s sex on a stick, for sure.”

Of course she was, and anyone with two eyes and a beating heart could see that. Abby pursed her lips and sat back down, assuming a nonchalant expression. “Attractive, yes. No denying.”

“And smart and funny and…did I mention sexy?”

Abby had the strangest urge to growl. “I think you did.”

“And she looks at you like she wants to drag you off to her cave and have her way with you.” Carrie grinned.

Abby choked down the coffee she’d just sipped. “I’m sorry?”

Carrie laughed. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed. She was practically staring holes in you all morning at breakfast.”

“I doubt that. She was all the way at the other end of the table and barely looked—” Abby realized she’d just admitted she’d been watching Flann too. “Well, hell.”

“Uh-huh. It’s the old avoidance reaction. She’s interested and running scared.”

“I can’t believe anything scares Flann when it comes to women,” Abby said dryly. She certainly hadn’t acted scared that morning. If anything, Abby had been the one to run. The idea made Abby pause. Really? Run? That wasn’t her. She didn’t run—not when she’d discovered she was pregnant, not when Blake was born and she’d had to leave him with her mother so she could finish school, not when the demands of residency and parenthood had nearly killed her. Why on earth would she run from a simple kiss?

“I think there might be,” Carrie said.

Abby blinked. “Sorry?”

“Flann. Scared. I’ve known her awhile now and seen her around a lot of women. She does casual really well, but something else would probably scare her.”

“I don’t know her well enough to say,” Abby said, “but there’s nothing going on between us that could possibly be frightening.” At least not to Flann.

“Ah. Okay, then we’re all squared away.”

“Right, the field is clear.”

“Good,” Carrie said. “On to more important matters, then—once everything settles down at the hospital, I’ll text you about the wedding meeting.”

“Absolutely. I’ll be here.” Abby got up and carried her dishes to the sink. “I’m going to collect my offspring and head back to work.”

“I’ll probably see you there later.”

The only thing she wanted was to collect Blake and put Flannery O’Connor Rivers out of her mind. She found Blake and Margie in the sitting room, asleep as only teenagers could sleep, so deeply the world could come to an end around them and they wouldn’t notice. They were stretched out on the same sofa where she’d treated Flann the night before, foot to foot, their heads at opposite ends. She stood for a moment in the doorway, taking them in. They were beautiful. Blake had two kittens curled up in the crook of his arm. Margie’s golden hair framed her oval face like a halo. Abby wished for a second they could always stay as peaceful and content as they were right at that moment, but then life wasn’t always peaceful and happy, and some of the greatest pleasures grew out of turmoil and challenge. She couldn’t stop Blake from growing up and wouldn’t want to.

She knelt by his side and shook his shoulder gently. “Hey, time to go home.”

His lashes were long and dark, the kind people always said were too beautiful for a boy, but she didn’t think so. Boys had their own kind of beauty, and he was growing into his, day by day. His eyes opened and focused on hers. His smile was swift.

“Hi, Mom.”

“I have to go back to the hospital, and I want to take you home first.”

“Okay.” He looked down at the kittens, a pair of black and whites with brilliant blue eyes, just stretching with their tiny paws flailing in the air. The pair of them would’ve fit in a soup bowl. “Can I keep them?”

“Are they old enough to be separated from their mother?”

“Margie says so.”

Abby smiled. Margie was obviously the source of all farm knowledge. “Then I don’t see why not. I guess we should check with Presley to be sure.”

“Maybe I could take them home, and we could call her later.”

“How about we leave a note on the table and let her know you’ve borrowed them for the day. I suspect she’ll be happy that they’ve got a good home.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“No problem. But”—she ruffled his hair—“no dog. Not until we have a house with a bigger yard.”

“Deal.” He grinned and glanced at Margie, who was awake and regarding them sleepily. “I can keep them.”

“Awesome,” Margie said with a yawn. “Is it lunch yet?”

Abby laughed. “Come on. We’ll find Glenn and I’ll treat you all to lunch before I go back to work.”

She herded the kids and cats outside. Glenn sat on the front steps, reading her phone.

“Cell tower’s back up,” Glenn said.

“Great,” Abby said. “Maybe that means things aren’t so bad. Hopefully people will start getting in to work today.”

“Most of the afternoon shift has called in they’re coming or have already arrived,” Glenn said. “I just checked the OR and ER.”

“You’re wasted as a first assist in the OR,” Abby said. “Come down to the ER and be my assistant director.”

Glenn laughed. “I don’t know who Flann would shoot first—you or me.”

Abby grimaced. “Probably me. But the offer stands. Think about it. You’re qualified, and when we start growing, there’ll be plenty of challenges.”

“I’ll think about it.” Glenn stood and stretched, wincing as if something bothered her.

“You okay?”

Glenn’s expression shuttered. “Fine.”

“Can I treat you to lunch?” Abby said, recognizing a closed subject.

“Sure.” Glenn smiled and Abby realized how good-looking she was in a quiet, contained way.

Abby smiled back. “Wonderful. I can’t promise I won’t keep trying to seduce you away from the OR.”

Glenn laughed as she and Abby walked to the car. “Seduce away.”

Abby laughed too, not the least bit inclined to run from the playful banter. Glenn was attractive, thoughtful, intelligent, and interesting, and so much easier to be with than Flann. Abby wasn’t plagued by the unsettled, simmering emotions Flann incited. She should have been relieved, but for some strange reason, she wasn’t.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

A little after seven in the morning, Flann finished up a trauma case that had run all night. She’d been up almost two days and two nights with only a few scattered hours of sleep. The world had condensed to the surgical field in front of her for so long that when she lifted her head to glance at the clock, it took her a few seconds to orient herself. She grinned at Glenn across the table, and Glenn grinned back. Glenn’s face was hidden behind a surgical mask, but she could read Glenn’s emotions from her eyes after years of doing it. Glenn was as exhausted and exhilarated as her. They’d won another one. “Good job.”

“Same to you,” Glenn said in her husky alto.

The twenty-year-old motorcyclist had gone off the road on a slippery curve in a rainstorm and arrived in the ER a little after midnight. With his broken leg, wrist, collarbone, and punctured lung, she would have ordinarily stabilized him and sent him to a tertiary care center for ortho treatment and rehab. Unfortunately, he’d had no blood pressure when he’d been wheeled in by the paramedics doing CPR. His belly had been as hard as a board. Her bet had been ruptured spleen. Glenn voted for liver laceration. They’d both been right and then some. His abdomen was a war zone. Along with a ruptured spleen and lacerated liver, he’d torn his small intestine.

They got the bleeding under control as soon as they got his spleen out, repaired the liver laceration, and put his small bowel back together. Somehow, he’d managed not to break his neck or fracture his spine, and he was young enough he’d likely survive the multiple trauma and insult to his major systems without too much in the way of long-term side effects. He’d still be looking at a week in the intensive care unit and six times that in rehab if he was lucky. But then, he was damn lucky.

Flann stepped back from the table as Glenn carefully applied the dressings and secured his chest tube and other lines for the transfer to the gurney. Flann pulled off her mask, shed her gown and gloves, and called thanks to the anesthesiologist and the nurses on her way out of the room. Her legs were rubbery and her head muzzy. She contemplated taking herself off emergency call, but chances were another one wouldn’t come in anyhow. If it did, she could always punt or transfer if she couldn’t handle it. Once in the locker room she stripped, stumbled like a zombie back to the shower stalls, and stepped under the spray.

“Cripes,” she gasped, when the cold water doused her head. While she fought with the dial to regulate the temperature, her mind cleared and she got her second wind. She’d be good for another half a day at least. And the day stretched ahead of her like a long, empty hallway. Not knowing how long she’d be tied up with the trauma, she’d left a message with her answering service halfway through the case to reschedule her morning hours. Barring emergencies, her time was her own. She didn’t really have anything to do with it—work was her recreation as well as her profession. Other than playing softball four nights a week in the spring and summer, she didn’t do much else except work, take a woman out to dinner or a movie a few times a month, and find reasons not to leave the hospital. The hospital was the core of her social life. Like a lot of single doctors, or those who weren’t single but weren’t in any hurry to get home, she spent a fair amount of time hanging around, talking to other staff in the cafeteria or the OR lounge or the ER.

Unfortunately, the only person she really wanted to talk to was Abby, and she’d been avoiding her. She hadn’t seen her since the morning she’d left Presley’s while Abby was asleep. Abby hadn’t been on call the night before when the trauma came in, and she’d managed not to see her the day before either. Avoiding her turned out to be a lot easier than not thinking about her. When she wasn’t completely focused on an operation or patient evaluation, like now, memories of those few moments in Abby’s room replayed in vivid detail. Who knew her body had perfect recall? She didn’t usually dwell on a physical encounter, but she couldn’t get those few moments with Abby out of her head. Every second seemed imprinted on her skin—when Abby had been pressed so close against her even air couldn’t find room between them, when Abby’s arms had wrapped around her neck and her fingers drove into her hair, pulling her head down for a deeper kiss, urging her to plunder and claim.

Flann’s clitoris twitched. “God damn it.”

She was too damn old to get riled up from just a kiss, and definitely not from only thinking about a kiss. She slid her palm down her belly and pressed the swelling between her thighs with her fingertips. She caught her breath. She wasn’t too old for jerking off in the shower, but not in the locker room. And not while she was thinking about a woman she’d already moved past.

She twisted off the dial, stepped out, and grabbed one of the skimpy towels housekeeping provided for staff use. She’d taken the dressing off her leg the day before, and she carefully dried the area around the sutures before cursorily mopping up the rest of the water on her skin and hair. The leg looked fine. Abby had done a good job. As she patted the sutures, the image of Abby kneeling before her, wrapping a bandage around her thigh, jumped into her consciousness and the faint throb between her legs became a piercing ache.

She’d seen herself then, could see herself now, sliding her hand into the hair at the nape of Abby’s neck and guiding her face upward until her mouth closed over her. Her thighs suddenly weakened and she shot out her arm to brace herself against the wall. Her belly tightened, the need a fist twisting in the pit of her stomach. She blew out a long breath and forced her mind to blank.

Glenn came in as she was pulling on jeans and a plain white T-shirt, and gave her the diversion she needed. “Everything quiet?”

“Looks like it.” Glenn opened her locker and pulled out her street clothes and a motorcycle helmet. “I’ll have my beeper if you need me.”

“Aren’t you off today?”

Glenn grinned as she changed and tossed her scrubs. “Yeah, but it’s more fun being here.”

Flann laughed, but the sound rang hollowly in her ears. “True.”

“See you,” Glenn said on her way out the door.

“Ride safe.” Flann dialed the recovery room from the phone by the door. When the clerk answered, she said, “This is Rivers. Can I talk to George Baker’s nurse?”

“Hold on.”

“Hi, Flann,” another woman said a moment later.

Flann recognized the voice. Becky McAllister. Twenty-five, blond, bright, great breasts, and dynamite in bed. They’d had a few breathless weeks half a year ago before Becky decided she’d rather settle down with her old high-school boyfriend. No hard feelings on Flann’s part. She’d known Becky was experimenting, but that didn’t bother her. In fact, it made things a lot easier. Becky was looking for a good time in bed, and Flann knew just how to deliver that.

Abby, now, she wasn’t looking for a bedmate. She wasn’t looking for anything at all, at least she didn’t think she was. Flann wasn’t sure she agreed. Abby was passionate, intelligent, sensitive, and giving. She wasn’t the kind of woman to spend her life alone, if she’d look past all her responsibilities and see she deserved a life. What was it Abby had said? A couple of kids, a house with a yard, a dog or two. Yeah, she could see Abby there. Abby was born for family.

“Flann?”

“Hey, Becky,” Flann said with a start. “How’s Baker doing?”

“He’s good. Vitals are stable. The last blood gas was normal,” Becky said. “How are you?”

“Great. You?”

“Oh, sure, great.” Becky paused. “You know, no law says we couldn’t get together for a drink sometime. Talk about old times.”

Flann laughed. “Talk about them?”

Becky’s laughter pealed, and Flann flashed on Becky straddling her, her blond hair flying about her shoulders, her breasts rose-tipped and bouncing gently as she rocked on Flann’s hand. A nice image that did nothing for her.

“Well, you know…I miss…some things,” Becky said.

“Be surprised how much fun you could have giving lessons. You should try it,” Flann said lightly. “Call me if there’s any problems with my patient.”

“Of course,” Becky said, a distinct chill in her voice.

Smiling wryly, Flann hung up the phone. She didn’t have any strict rules against dating married women in general, but she preferred they not be actually living with their husbands when she did. Besides, Becky was way too close to home. She didn’t care to advertise her bedroom activities to the world. And all that aside, the idea of climbing into bed with her just didn’t appeal. She might think differently after a good night’s sleep, but she doubted it.

Halfway back to her apartment on the outskirts of town, Flann changed her mind and reversed course. No way could she sleep yet, and sitting around in her apartment was the last thing she wanted to do. Ten minutes later she turned down the drive to the homestead, but instead of pulling under the porte cochere where she usually parked, she followed a winding dirt road past acres of cornfield down to the main barn. The big doors were open and the clank of cows at the milking station rang like bells as she stepped from the Jeep. The Rivers family had leased their land for crops and dairy cows for as long as she could remember to a farming family who owned the adjoining land a mile or so downriver. Melanie Cochran, the oldest daughter, was supervising the morning’s milking. She waved to Flann. “Come to help out?”

Flann laughed. “Those electronic robot milkers are way too high-tech for me. The cows are safer with you.”

“Chicken.”

“How’s the summer going?”

“Great,” Melanie said with obvious pride. Her older brother had opted for a teaching job in the city, and Melanie appeared to be the heir apparent to follow in her father’s footsteps. “We got a good round of heifers this spring, rain’s been good, temperature’s been high.” She grinned and shrugged a shoulder. “It’s a good season if you don’t mind a tornado now and then.”

“Everything okay over at your place?”

“We lost half a field of soybeans, but we’ve got time to replant. All our stock are fine. We were lucky.”

“You know it. The whole village was pretty lucky.”

“I hear Harper’s new place got torn up a little bit.”

“The barn took a hit, but it’s repairable.”

Melanie adjusted one of the suction tubes on a cow’s udder and dusted off her hand. “I heard there’s going to be a barn raising. You gonna be there?”

“I didn’t get an invitation,” Flann said with a grin, “but I haven’t talked to Harper since yesterday. When?”

“This weekend.”

“Barring emergencies, I’ll be there.”

Melanie cocked a hip and sent Flann a slow grin. She was a good ten years younger than Flann, but more than a few above legal age. She was strong, sunburned, and pretty in a wholesome way. “Well then, I’ll see you. There’ll be dancing, I hear.”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Flann walked toward the tack room, shaking her head. Must be the day for invitations. Nothing to complain about, but the usual thrill of the hunt eluded her. She pulled down one of the bikes that looked about Blake’s size from hooks along one wall. The tires were in good shape and she dug out a foot pump and filled them to make sure they held up before she gave it to him. She wheeled it back out of the barn and wrestled it into the back of her Jeep. As she made the turn into the drive, her mother came out onto the back porch, set her hands on her hips, and fixed Flann with a stare she could feel through the windshield. She pulled over, cut the engine, and climbed out. “Morning, Mama.”

“You were thinking to leave without stopping by, I take it?”

“Ah—”

“Come on in the kitchen. I imagine you haven’t had breakfast.”

“I could do with some food.”

Ida laughed. “When can’t you?”

Flann stepped into the kitchen and was immediately enfolded in the scent of warm bread, fresh ham, and sweet strawberries. The smell of home stirred an ache in her depths, and she settled at the table with a sigh.

Her mother set a cup of coffee in front of her. “Long night?”

Flann rubbed her face with both hands. “Long couple of nights. How are things with Dad?”

“He finally got a break last night and didn’t get a call out until after breakfast this morning. He’s fine.”

Flann nodded and swallowed some coffee. “Good.”

“What were you looking for down at the barn?”

“Oh, I was getting one of my old bikes out for Blake.”

“That’s nice of you.”

“Well, he and Margie are planning on looking after the chicks over at Presley’s, so he needs some transportation since neither of them drives.”

“I imagine the two of them will be getting their licenses at about the same time.”

Flann winced. “Don’t remind me.”

Ida sat with her own coffee and studied Flann unhurriedly. “You and your sisters survived, they will too. We’ll all keep an eye on them.”

“I’m not worried about them—it’s the rest of the idiots out there.”

“We’ll see that they know what they’re about.”

“I know.”

“Blake seems like a nice boy.”

“He is.”

“He and Margie hit it off.”

Flann searched for any sign that her mother had concerns and didn’t find any. The idea that Blake wouldn’t immediately be accepted for the great kid he was bothered her and she could only imagine how Abby must feel. “Margie is teaching him the wonders of farming.”

Ida smiled. “Abby is quite remarkable too.”

Flann flushed and stared at her coffee. “Uh-huh.”

“I admire her, being a single mother. It doesn’t much matter if it’s one child or five, it’s always easier when there’s two people sharing the raising.”

“You managed.”

“That’s not fair, Flannery,” her mother said gently.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not me deserving the apology.” Ida stroked her arm to signal she was forgiven. “And if anybody ought to be complaining, it would be me.”

“You’re right again, I’m just—I don’t know, probably just tired.” She didn’t know why the hell she was mad, or even who she was really mad at. “I should go.”

Ida took her hand. “No, you should stay and tell me what’s bothering you.”

“I don’t know,” Flann said, when she meant to say nothing. “I love Dad, you know that, right?”

“Course I do, and so does he.”

“Harper always wanted to be just like him.”

Her mother said nothing.

“And I was always afraid I was.”

“What do you mean?”

“I love what I do, just like he does. Maybe too much. Sometimes I thought he’d rather be taking care of other people than taking care of us.”

“It must’ve seemed that way when you were younger.”

“But I’m not young anymore, and I do know better.” Flann shook her head. “It’s hard to let go of feelings you’ve had for a long, long time.”

“That’s because you’re still angry at him about Kate. You think he should have known, and he should have fixed her.”

“No, of course I don’t. I know no one could have—”

“You know it now, but you didn’t know it then. And like you said, those feelings take a long time to change.”

“I don’t even know why I’m thinking about all of this right now.” She avoided serious relationships so she’d never have a chance to let anyone down, so she’d never fail to take care of the people who needed her. The decision had never bothered her, until now.

Ida smiled. “Don’t you?”

Flann frowned. “I think you better let me in on it, if you do.”

“Oh no. There’re some things a mother ought to stay clear of.”

“I’m gonna remind you you said that someday.”

“I’ll remind you not to sass, Flannery.”

Flannery grinned. “I love you.”

Ida got up, kissed Flann’s cheek, and gave her shoulder a squeeze. “I love you too.”

Flann carried her dishes to the sink. “I guess I’ll be seeing you at the barn raising this weekend.”

“We haven’t had a good old-fashioned barn raising in a long time,” Ida said.

“Just another excuse for a party.”

“Mm-hmm. Everybody loves one.”

“I’ll see you.” Flann headed for the door. “Save me a dance.”

“I suspect you’ll have a full card. And Flannery,” Ida called after her.

Flann turned.

Her mother’s eyes twinkled and Flann couldn’t quite decipher her smile. “Remember, women enjoy being courted.”

Flann’s mouth dropped open. “What?”

“Just a little motherly advice.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Abby sat on the back steps with an honest-to-God newspaper spread open on her knees. Granted, it was the Argyle Post, a ten-page weekly filled with some of the most fascinating stories she’d ever read. The headliner described the daring rescue of an escaped parrot by the local sheriff’s deputy (with photo of officer and parrot). Another stated the fine received by a local resident whose backyard pig had apparently destroyed a neighbor’s vegetable garden. Another listed the names of five residents cited for speeding on the county road connecting the township to parts beyond. The rest of the paper was filled with births, deaths, and marriage announcements, and a surprisingly full calendar of upcoming events including the Fourth of July Fireworks on the Green celebration, a two-day local artists’ exhibition, a play put on by the theater group in a neighboring village, and the annual pig roast.

“Blake,” Abby called, “there’s going to be an art exhibit in a couple of weeks I think you might like—local artists.”

Blake came to the door, munching a piece of toast slathered with peanut butter. “Okay, sure.”

“Good.” She pulled out her phone and made note of the date so she could adjust the on-call schedule to be sure she was free. One of the great benefits of no longer being an underling was she could actually make a few plans that might come to fruition without needing to sell her soul to other residents to arrange coverage.

“What are you doing today?” Blake asked, in an odd reversal of their usual conversation.

Abby had the entire day free, another oddity. She actually had a day off. She had thought to go in to the hospital a little later in the day to take care of some paperwork, but now that she considered it, the idea seemed like a pathetic way to fill the unexpected hours. “I don’t know. Is there anything you want to do?” She glanced over her shoulder. Blake looked faintly chagrined. “What? Not interested in spending your free time with your mother?”

Blake grinned. “I kind of told Margie I’d meet her at Presley’s. We were going to look at the chicks. After that, you know, we were probably just gonna meet up with some of Margie’s gang and hang out.”

“I interpret that to mean you’re not interested in spending the day with your mother.”

“Well, I guess—”

Abby laughed. “It’s fine. You need a ride?”

“Yeah, about that. Maybe I could drive—with you in the car, you know.”

“Maybe we’ll be waiting until you get your permit.”

He made a face. “Margie says all the kids around here know how to drive a long time before they ever get their permits, and I’ve never even been behind the wheel.”

“I don’t think tractors quite count as knowing how to drive.”

“How about an ATV?”

“We don’t have one of those.”

“Margie does.”

Abby sighed. “Why do I feel like I’m being expertly maneuvered?”

He grinned again, that incredibly infectious grin that had always claimed her heart and, she suspected, would break a few in the future. She shook her head. “No deal.”

“Aw—”

“So,” Abby asked, conscious of not wanting to push her way into Blake’s personal space, “have you met these other kids yet?”

“No.”

His lack of embellishment told her he was nervous. She was too. Would this new crowd accept him, view him as just a new guy, or see him as someone who wouldn’t fit? “They’re Margie’s friends?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” What else could she say?

“Mom,” Blake blurted, “I want to have surgery.”

Abby’s stomach twisted. She’d been waiting, wondering when, if. God, he wasn’t even sixteen. Everything she’d been able to learn had said the most important criterion for moving ahead was the certainty of the teens themselves. Blake was sure, she believed with her heart and her mind. “What kind?”

“The top.” Blake met her gaze squarely. “Before school starts and I meet a lot of new people.”

“Okay, wait, let me catch up.” Abby stood and leaned against the porch rail, working through a million questions to find the right one. “How much is this about the way you feel physically versus wanting to be accepted in your new school?”

“Does it matter?”

“I’m not sure, maybe. What do you think?”

He frowned. “Remember when I said I wanted to start the hormones, because I wanted to look and feel male?”

“Yes.”

“This is like that—I want my body to match the way I feel about myself, and I’ll feel better if I look like I feel.”

Abby blew out a breath. “It sounds circular, but then it is, isn’t it. Mind and body are fluid.”

Blake grinned, looking relieved and amused. “Mom, you’re thinking too hard.”

“I love you.”

“I know. So—can I talk to Flann?”

“Flann?” Abby’s mind blanked for a second. “You want Flann to do the surgery?”

“Margie said she’s the best.”

“Undoubtedly, but…” Abby pictured Flann during a trauma alert, saw her quick deft hands and certain actions. The surgery itself wasn’t all that dangerous or complicated, and Blake was lucky. He hadn’t had much breast development before the hormones suppressed it. Blake obviously trusted Flann, and so did she. “All right. We’ll start there. Information first, deal?”

“Deal.” Blake looked over his shoulder. The house was small enough to see from the back porch all the way through to the front if the doors were open, which they were to capitalize on any kind of breeze. “Hey! Flann’s here. She brought a bike!”

Blake disappeared and Abby panicked. Flann. She looked down at herself. Oh God. Cut-off sweatpants that seconded as pajama bottoms, a T-shirt that had to be older than Blake—faded and literally see-through in places—and of course, no underwear. She had at least brushed her hair and taken care of other necessary hygienics. Maybe she could just stay out of the way. But then if she hid, she wouldn’t see Flann, and she very much wanted to. If she was honest, she’d been wanting to see her since she’d sent her out of the bedroom.

She folded up the paper, tossed it onto one of the two rocking chairs she and Blake had found in a hardware store down the street, and hurried through the house. Flann and Blake hovered over a bicycle in the front yard. She walked to the edge of the porch and observed their animated expressions. Blake was transformed—his face alight with pleasure. Flann looked Abby’s way, and her smile was as potent as a harpoon striking her in the center of the chest, slowly drawing her toward Flann.

“Good morning,” Abby said, hoping her voice sounded nonchalant despite the piercing pleasure filling up her chest.

“Thought I’d take a chance on finding someone home,” Flann said.

“Mom,” Blake said excitedly, “look at the great bike Flann brought me.”

“It’s super,” Abby said. The bike did indeed fit the description—a newish road bike built for speed. “Flann, that’s an awfully nice bike—I appreciate you lending it—”

“No problem. I’m not using it. Besides”—Flann grinned at Blake—“you gotta have wheels. These will do until you get your license.”

Abby resisted the urge to grind her teeth. She really didn’t need anyone else encouraging Blake in the pleasures of automotion. “Fortunately everything around here is in walking distance.”

“Mostly,” Flann said agreeably. She grinned at Abby. “But then again, a car isn’t just for transportation.”

She folded her arms and gave Flann a pointed frown. “It better be in this family.”

Flann laughed and Blake blushed, although he tried to pretend he hadn’t heard the exchange.

“Keep it as long as you need it,” Flann said. “Really, I don’t use it.”

“Maybe I could buy it,” Blake said.

“Why don’t we discuss a work trade? There’s going to be plenty to do out at Harper’s place.”

“Yeah, I could do that.” Blake looked back at Abby. “Can I go, Mom?”

“Sure. Be back by dinner or call me or—” But he was already on the bike and headed out to the road, waving one arm without looking back. Abby sighed. “I wish it was another year before he gets his license.”

Flann climbed the porch steps. “I know what you mean. I just had the same conversation with my mother about Margie.”

“At least your mother’s had some practice with it. I bet you and Harper were devils behind the wheel.”

Flann brushed a hank of hair out of her eyes, and Abby followed the motion of her hand before skimming her gaze down Flann’s body. Abby’s attention heated her skin, and the memory of Abby’s fingers on her neck when they’d kissed chased away the last of her fatigue. She was instantly very much awake. “Not Harper, she was never wild. She always followed the rules.”

“Not you though, I’ll bet,” Abby said softly. Flann looked tired, shadows under her eyes, her face paler than she’d ever seen her. She even looked thinner, if that was possible after two days.

“No, not me. I’ve never cared for rules.”

“You look like you haven’t caught up on your sleep yet,” Abby said. “You should go home, get some rest.” Abby wanted her to stay, but that was absurd. The woman was probably almost out on her feet, even if she was too macho to admit it.

“I was thinking,” Flann said, although she hadn’t been until just a minute ago. She had a day free and Abby was standing right in front of her and she didn’t want to say good-bye. What she wanted was another kiss, and she wasn’t going to think too hard about why. “There’s a farmers’ market in Saratoga. Maybe you’d like to go, walk around, see what it’s like.”

“If you’ve been up all night—”

Flann took her hand. “I’m fine. Besides, the fresh air will do me a lot more good than rolling around in a hot apartment trying to sleep during the day.”

“No air-conditioning?” Abby said lightly, though all of her attention was focused on Flann’s fingers wrapped around her hand. Flann was probably used to casual contact with women, but she wasn’t. Why couldn’t she seem to do casual around Flann?

“Don’t have any,” Flann said, her eyes drifting from Abby’s face down her body. “I figure I’m never really home much, so why bother. Usually I can sack out in the hospital if I want to.”

“But today you decided to bring Blake a bicycle. That was really kind of you.”

“Nothing kind about it. I like him, and besides, I need him to be able to get around for work.”

Abby laughed and she couldn’t think of a reason to say no. She didn’t even want to think, she just wanted to enjoy a day in the sun with a woman who looked at her like she was delectable. Oh God, her clothes. “I’d love to go to the farmers’ market with you. Give me a minute to change.”

“Why? You look terrific.”

“Sure, if we’re going to a pajama party.” Abby extracted her hand and backed toward the door. Flann followed. “There’s lemonade in the refrigerator. The kitchen’s in the back.”

Flann was very close and her eyes had turned dark and hungry, the way they had right before she’d kissed her. The house was empty and Blake wouldn’t be back for hours. Abby took a breath. “I’ll be right down.”

“All right.” Flann slowly leaned forward, giving Abby time to turn away. She didn’t. Flann kissed her softly, a brush of her lips over Abby’s, repeating the easy caress until Abby’s hand came to her neck again, tugging her a little closer. Flann teased her tongue over Abby’s lips until her control wavered and she was in danger of sliding her hands under Abby’s T-shirt. With another woman, she already would have. She pulled back, her vision a little blurry, the rush of blood in her ears a drumbeat of desire more potent than anything she’d ever known. “Take your time. I’ll be waiting.”

Abby’s lips parted, her pupils wide and black and a wee bit hazy. Her hand dropped from Flann’s neck. “Good.”

Flann leaned against the door and watched her disappear. Today Abby didn’t look as if she wanted to run. She looked as if she wanted to be kissed again. Flann liked that idea herself, although the usual self-satisfaction when a woman signaled she was ready for the game to begin was missing. Maybe because she wasn’t playing a game, or if she was, it was the most important one she’d ever played. Instead of feeling triumphant, she was…nervous. Hell.

She waited on the front porch in one of a pair of wicker chairs set on either side of a small round table, her feet propped on the rail, her body pleasantly simmering, the scent of Abby—some intoxicating blend of honey and sunlight—still clinging to her skin, and watched the world go by. She rarely sat, rarely even slowed down. She liked action. Harper was the one who went in for quiet contemplation. But right this moment, she was as content as she could ever remember being. The sensation was novel, and she was anything but bored. Every cell simmered with excitement.

Women like to be courted.

She didn’t have any experience with that, but she’d never run from a challenge. If that’s what it took to put that drowsy, hot look back in Abby’s eyes again, she’d give it her best.

“You look pretty comfortable there,” Abby said from the doorway.

“I am.” Flann glanced over her shoulder and her mouth went dry.

The pale yellow sundress scooped just low enough to make it abundantly clear Abby had absolutely perfect breasts. Her hair was a golden tangle on her smooth shoulders, her bare arms sleek and bronzed. The flowing skirt hinted at slender thighs, and strappy sandals called attention to her equally elegant calves. Incongruously, each toe was tipped in pale coral.

“You paint your toenails,” Flann said like an idiot.

Abby laughed. “I do. Frivolous, isn’t it?”

“Sexy.”

Abby blushed. “I’ll take note of that.”

“You look fabulous.” Flann rose, chagrined. At least her jeans and white T-shirt were clean, but Abby was beautiful. Elegant, breathtaking. “I’m not fit to be seen with you. I should change.”

“Don’t be silly. I love the way you look in jeans and a T-shirt.”

“You deserve better.” Flann knew it was true, and she wasn’t thinking about clothes.

Abby slipped her arm through Flann’s. She had a day off, she’d just been kissed by the sexiest woman she’d ever met, and she was feeling sexier than she ever had in her life. For the next few hours, she didn’t want to think of anything else. “As a matter of fact, I like you exactly the way you are.”

Coming from anyone else, Flann would have discounted the statement as flirtatious, just one more move in the game. When Abby said it, she hoped it was true. More than she’d ever imagined.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“I’m going to take you at your word about my clothes,” Flann said as she started driving north away from town. “But next time we go somewhere, I promise I won’t be wearing a T-shirt.”

Laughing, Abby rolled down her window and let the brisk morning air blow through her hair. She didn’t even care if it tangled, the breeze felt so good. The countryside stretched out on either side of the mostly empty road, rolling hills in more shades of green than she’d ever imagined. Flann swept around a bend and the river appeared, shimmering in the sun.

“God, it’s beautiful up here,” Abby said.

“You know what else?” Flann said. “You never get used to it.”

“I believe it.”

“Do you miss the city?”

“No.” Abby turned in the seat to watch Flann drive. She drove as she did everything else, a little bit fast, competently, easily. Her window was open too, and the air rushing in pressed her T-shirt tightly to her chest. Her arms and shoulders were muscular, but sculpted rather than bulky, her breasts small and neat. Abby had an urge to slide her hand underneath the hem of her T-shirt and explore Flann’s abdomen, suspecting it was flat and firm. As if reading her thoughts, Flann glanced over and her mouth quirked up at the corner. Abby almost expected her to ask if she saw something she liked, because she was certain her expression gave her away. Mercifully, Flann didn’t comment.

“So you don’t even miss the restaurants?” Flann said.

Abby grinned. “Okay, maybe the ready access to something besides pizza. Although the pizza at Clark’s is damn good.”

“We’ve got some good locally sourced restaurants a half-hour drive from town. Next time—”

“You seem pretty certain there’ll be a next time.”

“I hope there will be.”

“Flann,” Abby said, needing to be clear for her own sake as much as Flann’s, “I’m not thinking about this as a date. We work together, my son and your sister are getting to be best friends, and one of my best friends is marrying your sister. We’re going to be seeing a lot of each other.”

“Like I said, I hope so.”

Abby had forgotten how exasperating Flann could be when she’d made up her mind about something. Maybe those kisses had some amnesiac side effect, because they’d certainly affected her memory and her sanity. Grumpily, she said, “You’re being purposely obtuse.”

Flann grinned. “That sounds kinda sexy.”

Abby considered punching her in her beautifully muscled arm, just to touch her. She was such an infuriatingly gorgeous animal. “Now you’re purposefully being difficult.”

Flann looked from the road to Abby again, and she wasn’t grinning. She was smoky eyed and oh-so-tantalizing. “I’m not trying to be. I do think we’re friends, but I don’t usually kiss my friends, not the way I kissed you.”

“I suppose I should say I’m sorry I let that second kiss happen, but—”

“Let it happen?” Flann snorted. “You mean it was all me?”

“No, you’re right,” Abby said, forcing herself to say the truth. “I didn’t let it happen—I wanted it to happen, and that kiss was every bit as much my doing as yours.”

“I want to kiss you again.”

Abby sighed. “Why can’t we just keep things simple.”

“Why can’t we just let what is, be? See what happens.”

“I can’t,” Abby said. “I don’t work that way. I’m not—casual. Spontaneous. I’ve never had the luxury of just doing what I wanted.”

“So try it now,” Flann said.

“Part of me wants to, that’s why I’m sitting here in this Jeep with you right now. But I know myself, Flann. Really, I do. And I’m not the right kind of woman for you.”

Flann’s brow twitched. “You mean the kind that kisses me until my brains feel like they’re gonna leak out of my ears? Because I have to tell you, I liked it.”

Abby flushed. She liked knowing she could make Flann’s brain melt. She liked knowing she wasn’t the only one set ablaze by their kisses. The power was exciting, heady, a little addictive. “I like kissing you. But I’m not going to sleep with you.”

“All right,” Flann said easily, watching the road.

Surprised, Abby said nothing. And she ignored the surge of disappointment.

“So how do you feel about venison, because one of these places makes the most amazing grilled venison with fresh squa—”

Abby stared. “Did we not just have a long conversation about how we’re not—”

“I got it, every word.”

Flann slouched slightly behind the wheel, controlling the car with the fingers of one hand loosely curled around the wheel, her other hand resting on her thigh. With her tawny hair and sun-kissed skin, she resembled a big cat, deceptively somnolent when Abby knew for a fact she was dangerous. Flann had the power to strip away every last shred of her good sense.

“Somehow I don’t think so.”

“We’re not going to date and”—Flann sent her a mildly infuriating grin, making her look even more attractive—“you’re not going to sleep with me. Right?”

“More or less, yes.”

Flann nodded. “Thought so.”

“Just so we’re clear.”

“Crystal.”

Flann’s sudden acceptance left Abby deflated when she should have been exultant. Determined to enjoy the day, Abby concentrated on the river running alongside the road, marveling at how wide it still was so far north of the inlet in New York City, admiring the fields and farms dotting its shores, all the while refusing to think about the danger signals blaring in her head. Flann was so appealingly stubborn, pretending she didn’t understand or care what Abby was saying. Refusing to be refused.

“Hey, Abby?”

“Hmm?”

“What if we agreed, just kisses.”

Abby laughed, she couldn’t help it. Flann was so outrageously attractive. If the kiss happened again, she knew she’d enjoy it. How could she not?

“If…and I mean if,” Abby said, trying to sound stern but knowing she was failing by the little smile curling Flann’s gorgeous mouth, “that does not mean I’ll be tearing off my clothes and jumping into the nearest bed.”

“Absolutely clear.”

Fine. She could control herself, after all. And if Flann wanted to torment them both with kisses, why not? In fact, she could do a little tormenting of her own. Feeling slightly wild and not caring, she reached for Flann’s free hand and pulled it into her lap. Flann tensed for the barest second and then relaxed, letting Abby intertwine their fingers. They rode along in silence, Abby slowly stroking her thumb over the top of Flann’s hand. The contact was as erotic as if they lay naked together.

Abby needed all her willpower not to let that image fill her mind.

*

The farmers’ market was a ring of tents set up in a big pasture along the river on the outskirts of Saratoga, an historic village known for its racetrack, medicinal spas, and fine restaurants. Flann pulled behind a line of cars parked on the shoulder of the road, and they walked up the highway toward the fluttering canvases and the rumble of voices. Flann took her hand as they walked and caught Abby off guard by how much she enjoyed the simple proprietary gesture. The last time she’d been on a date with someone who was so easily physical and effortlessly possessive had been…never. She never would have thought she’d enjoy being so publicly involved with anyone, but she liked being seen with Flann, being her…date. Well, really. She was the one wearing blinders, and that was just plain embarrassing.

“Thanks for bringing me here. It’s a fabulous day.”

“And it’s just beginning.”

Her seductive croon sent a warm wave rushing through Abby’s core. Searching for a safe topic, Abby blurted, “Do you cook?”

Flann grinned, not looking at her. Her face in profile was sculpted and bold. “I grill.”

“Does your apartment have a yard?”

“My apartment doesn’t have anything except three serviceable rooms, a little bit of furniture, and a television set.”

Flann stopped at a card table set up under a multicolored umbrella and bought two paper cups filled with real lemonade from a smiling preteen with braces and beautiful sea-green eyes.

“Harper lives in a house on the farm, doesn’t she?”

“That’s right,” Flann said nonchalantly.

“The place Carrie is moving into?”

“Yep.”

“You didn’t want to live there?”

Flann stopped again, bought two homemade chocolate chip cookies, and handed her one. “Nope.”

“I’m sorry. I’m being nosy.”

Flann stopped and met her gaze. “No, you’re not. I’m being a jerk.”

“No, you’re—”

“Harper is the oldest, but that’s not why she’s my father’s successor. She’s always been the brightest and the best. I always wanted to be her, but I never quite made it. I don’t want to step into her shoes now.”

“I don’t blame you.” Abby frowned. “But you do realize you’re an accomplished surgeon and a genuinely good person, don’t you?”

Flann blushed. “Thanks.”

“And I would add extremely attractive, but I doubt that matters to your parents.”

Flann grinned. “Matters to me if you think so.”

“Oh, I think so,” Abby murmured.

“We should go somewhere so I can kiss you.”

“Absolutely not. I want to see the rest of this place,” Abby said, glad to see the light spark in Flann’s eyes again. She started walking and Flann grabbed her hand, falling into step with her. “So if you don’t grill at your place, where do you grill?”

“I’m the official chef at all the summer softball league barbecues—usually at least once a month. I help out at the pig roast, and every now and then my father lets me assist at family get-togethers.”

At the mention of softball, Abby thought about Carrie again. “There’s another game this week, isn’t there?”

“A couple. Usually Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday.”

“You can’t play with your leg.”

“Thought I’d try it on Sunday, but there’s a game Friday. Are you going to come?”

“I don’t play.”

“How about cheering? I could use a bigger fan section.”

Abby laughed as they crossed the grass and began walking along the rows of tables. Signs announced local farms and other businesses. Tables were heaped with fresh fruit, vegetables, breads, cheeses, and even meats in coolers.

“I can’t believe you’re lacking in fans.”

Flann shook her head. “Harper and Carrie are the stars of our team.”

“How is that?”

“Carrie is a phenomenal pitcher—pitched in college. Harper is a home-run star.”

“And you? What’s your claim to fame? And don’t tell me you don’t have one.” Abby purchased a cardboard box of raspberries and almost groaned at the sweet burst of flavor. She held one out to Flann, who dipped her head and caught it between her lips. Abby’s fingers tingled. “Could you try to behave for five minutes?”

Flann grinned. “I almost always get on base, and I hold the record for bases stolen.”

“Now why doesn’t that surprise me?” Abby shook her head. Stolen bases, stolen hearts.

“I’m fast and I’m wily.”

“And you’re interested in seeing the star pitcher.” As soon as Abby said it, she regretted it. It was none of her business who Flann was dating. “And that is totally none of my business. Sorry.”

Flann slowed in front of the table, picked up a peach, and handed the buxom blonde behind the table two dollars. She took a bite, and then held the golden fruit, juices dripping onto her fingers, out to Abby. “Try this. I guarantee you’ve never tasted anything like it.”

Abby was about to refuse and then, on a whim, covered Flann’s hand with hers, drew the peach closer, and slowly took a bite, sucking the sweet, meaty flesh into her mouth. Juice ran down her chin. She couldn’t believe she was making such a mess of herself in public. As she chewed and swallowed, she watched Flann watch her. Then Flann’s thumb was on her mouth, slowly wiping away the juice. Abby’s breath caught as Flann brought her thumb to her mouth, her tongue flicked out, and she licked it with a slow swirl of her tongue. Abby’s thighs weakened and her stomach fluttered.

“I’m not seeing anyone except you,” Flann said. “I did ask Carrie to go out with me a while ago, but she hasn’t taken me up on it. I intend to let her know we’d make better friends. She won’t mind.”

“You don’t have to because of me,” Abby said just a little breathlessly.

Flann lifted their hands, the peach still dripping, and took another bite. She licked some of the juice from Abby’s fingers. “Not doing it for you. For me. You’re the only woman I want to think about.”

“You’re right about the peach,” Abby said. If Flann touched her now, anywhere, she’d go up in flames.

Flann grinned and held it up for Abby to take another bite. “Told you.”

They passed the peach back and forth until it was gone and then found a portable water station and washed their hands. By the time they’d slowly made the circuit of the tents, Abby had picked up fresh fruits and vegetables and a package of steaks.

“There’s a grill on the back porch at my place,” Abby said. “Why don’t you stay for supper?”

“Yeah?”

Flann’s pleasure was so plain Abby’s heart warmed. “Yes.”

“I’d like that. Do you drink wine?”

“A red would work with the steak.”

“Excellent.” Flann slipped her arm around Abby’s waist. “We’ll pick some up on the way back.”

Abby hesitated. “You know Blake will be there…”

“I figured.” Flann’s mouth brushed her ear. “He’s your son. I know you’re a family.”

Abby stopped, turned her head, and kissed her, right there by the side of the road with pickup trucks and people passing by. “You are remarkable.”

“I’ll remind you of that the next time we’re alone.”

Abby settled into the passenger seat, the taste of peaches lingering on her lips. She reached for Flann’s hand and tried to think if she’d ever had an afternoon quite so perfect. She knew she hadn’t.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Flann pulled over in front of the old schoolhouse that was Abby and Blake’s home now. Two bikes leaned against the white picket fence.

“Damn,” she muttered.

Abby’s brows furrowed “What?”

“Blake and Margie are here.”

“I thought you said you didn’t mind—”

“It’s not them.” Flann slid an arm around her shoulders and pulled her toward the center of the front seat. “I was hoping for more kisses. I seem to be suffering from a lack of them.”

Abby’s eyes cleared and she smiled, a satisfied, very feline kind of smile. “Oh. I see.”

Flann pretended to be offended. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were enjoying my discomfort.”

Abby ran her fingers down the center of Flann’s T-shirt, avoiding her breasts, but the way Flann’s skin ignited, she might as well have been naked. Her hips lifted, and she growled. “Come on, Abby. That’s no fair.”

“Why not? After all, a kiss is more intimate than a little touch.”

“That’s not a little touch.” Flann grasped Abby’s wrist, turned her hand over, and kissed her palm. She flicked her tongue over the soft swelling at the base of Abby’s thumb and bit down gently. Abby gasped. Flann glanced up at her, her mouth still pressed to her palm. “And there are all kinds of kisses.”

Color flared in Abby’s face and her eyes took on that dark, sultry haze again. “I suppose we should clarify exactly what kind of kisses we’ll be sharing.”

Flann shook her head. “Too late. Kisses, no qualifiers. Anywhere we want.”

Abby’s heart beat so rapidly she could feel it in her throat. Trying to set limits with Flann was like trying to stop the sun from rising in the morning, a force of nature far too powerful for human restraints. Especially when she didn’t really want to restrain her. Heat swirled in her belly, and if she didn’t have two teenagers waiting inside, she would have forgotten all about why getting involved with Flann was a bad idea. She couldn’t look away from her mouth, couldn’t stop thinking about how her soft, warm lips would feel on her skin—possessive and demanding. When had she developed the desire to be pleasured, to take, to want? She brushed Flann’s lips with the thumb Flann had bitten. “You have a beautiful mouth. I’m going to enjoy your kisses.”

“Jeez, Abby,” Flann groaned. “Have a little mercy.”

“Mmm. I don’t think so.” Abby laughed, popped the door behind her, and jumped out. “Come on, you promised me dinner. You’re due at the grill.”

Flann wasn’t even sure she could walk. Her thighs were loose with desire while other parts of her were tight and swollen and hot. Somehow she had to get through dinner without looking like she wanted to jump on Abby, which she didn’t want to do—yet. But damn, it was hard to hold back. She’d never been obsessed with wanting a woman before. Oh sure, maybe when she was thirteen or fourteen and every girl was an object of endless, sleepless fascination, but that was more about wanting sex than wanting sex with somebody. After that insanity had passed, no woman had occupied her thoughts the way Abby did. No one fired her imagination or made her want things she’d sworn she’d never want. Not just kisses, not just being naked with her, not just making love to her until she screamed, which she wanted as much as she wanted her next breath, but more. She wanted more—she wanted the welcome in Abby’s eyes when she walked into a room, she wanted to hear Abby’s laugh when she teased her, she wanted to confess her sins and know Abby would help her to forgive herself. She wanted Abby’s light in the dark night of her world.

Abby stood on the porch looking back at her, a question in her eyes. “You can’t get out of it now.”

“Don’t want to,” Flann yelled, and she knew in her heart she meant it. She jumped out of the Jeep and jogged up the flagstone path.

“Take it easy with that leg,” Abby said.

“I’m good. Great.” Flann stood a step below her looking up. “I had a fabulous day.”

Abby held her gaze and slowly leaned down. Her kiss lingered, questing, a gentle demand.

Flann groaned. And then Abby was gone.

“How about I open that red,” Abby said with a teasing smile from the doorway.

“Sure.” Flann’s voice was sandpaper rough.

“Great. Grill’s on the porch.”

Flann followed through the neat open-concept living room-kitchen area and out the back door. Margie and Blake sat on the porch steps with lemonade and a box of cold pizza between them.

“Don’t eat too much of that,” Flann said, “I’m cooking.”

Margie craned her neck and looked up at her. “You are? Awesome.”

Blake closed the box. “Breakfast.”

Grinning, Flann said, “You two want to help me muscle this grill off the porch so I can get it started?”

Both teens jumped up. Margie and Blake grabbed one end and the three of them hoisted the grill down to the grass. Flann rocked the tank to be sure it had enough gas to get them through dinner and started up the grill. A breeze blew up from the river and cooled the sweat on the back of her neck. The sun was an hour away from dropping behind the hills on the other side of the valley. Beautiful night. Incredible day. Flann couldn’t remember being so relaxed or so bone-deep content in her life.

Abby came to the back door. “Blake, Margie. Want to give me a hand cutting vegetables?”

“Sure.”

“Okay.”

Flann watched Blake and Margie troop inside, thinking they seemed at once young and a whole lot more mature than she’d been at their age. She wondered what was going on between the two of them, but didn’t see as it was really any of her business. And whatever it was, she trusted them not to hurt each other.

A few minutes later, Abby came out with the steaks on a platter and a tray of sliced vegetables. “Salad’s done. I think we’re ready for you.”

“Good.” Flann checked the back porch and couldn’t see either of the kids inside. Abby’s hands were full. Perfect opportunity. She slid her hand behind Abby’s neck and kissed her. Abby gave a little moue of surprise and then kissed her back, meeting Flann’s subtle demand with some of her own. Flann felt a tiny nip on her lower lip before Abby pulled away. The kiss was even more satisfying for its briefness, a teasing hint of all to come when they were alone. Flann drew back, surprised at how short her breath had gotten, how fast her pulse. “I’ll put those vegetables on now.”

Abby stared, her gaze holding Flann’s as she held out the tray. “Good idea.”

Grinning, Flann laid out the vegetables, put on the steaks, and checked her watch. Five minutes later, Abby returned with two glasses of the red and handed her one. “How are they coming?”

“Everything looks good. Do you want to eat out on the porch?”

“There’s no table.”

“Doesn’t matter. We can sit on the steps. It’s a beautiful night and the sun will set right across the river in not too long.”

“It sounds perfect,” Abby said.

And it was. The four of them spread out on the porch steps and ate with their plates balanced on their knees, Margie and Blake regaling them with tales of the chicks and Rooster.

“He knows they’re in the pen,” Margie said. “He doesn’t go very far away like he used to. He just scratches around in a big circle and every once in a while he hops over and tries to look inside.”

“He’s claimed them already,” Blake said.

“You’ll have to wait until they’re about three months old to let them out,” Flann said. “He’ll want to make sure they know they belong to him when they start free ranging.”

“Once the barn is rebuilt, we can get them in the coop, right?” Blake said.

“That’s the plan.”

“You’re coming on Saturday, aren’t you?” Margie said to Flann. “To the barn raising?”

“As long as I’m not at the hospital.” Flann turned to Abby. “You know about it, don’t you?”

“Presley mentioned it,” Abby said. “It sounds like fun. I’ll be there, but I can’t promise I’ll be much help. I think Carrie is planning on a wedding summit meeting.”

“Oh, man,” Flann moaned. “This is turning into a big show.”

Abby laughed. “Of course! But don’t worry—you can busy yourself with hammering and whatnot.”

“Thank God,” Flann muttered.

“So, Mom,” Blake said, finishing off the last of the grilled zucchini, “I’ve changed my mind about school.”

Abby set her wineglass down carefully, a jolt of fear running through her. If something had happened to make him want to change schools, he would have told her by now, wouldn’t he? “How’s that?”

Blake glanced at Margie. “I’m not going to study creative writing. I’m going to be a vet. Margie and I are going into practice together.”

Flann laughed. “That’s a great idea. Are you both going to do large animals or what?”

“Oh,” Abby said, trying to switch mental gears. Not a problem. Just teenagers being teenagers. “You’ll set up around here?”

“Oh, sure,” Margie said. “I’ll do the large animal work, mostly. Blake will specialize in small animals and domestic pets, but we’ll cross-cover.”

“Where are you planning to go to school?” Flann asked.

“We’re thinking Penn for vet school,” Blake said.

“And what about undergraduate school?” Abby said, running numbers in her head. Blake was smart and liked to study, but even a scholarship wouldn’t cover the cost of eight years of college and vet school.

“That’s to be determined.” Margie smiled at Blake. “But we’re thinking we’ll try for the same place.”

“Or at least close enough to see each other more than on holidays,” Blake qualified. “Maybe Dartmouth or Yale.”

“Okay,” Abby said brightly. God, she needed to start budgeting a little bit differently. “Sounds like there’s going to be a lot of serious studying going on the next year or two.”

“Margie says we might be able to get part-time work or an internship at the vet hospital in Saratoga.”

“You know Doc Valentine pretty well, don’t you, Flann?” Margie asked innocently.

Flann shot her a cautionary look. She and Sydney Valentine had dated for a while in college, but they’d gone their separate ways when Flann went off to medical school and Syd to vet school. Syd was still single, and they’d had one brief weekend reunion a few years back before deciding the passion of youth was not to be recaptured.

“I know her well enough to give her a call and see if there’s anything she could use you two for.”

Margie grinned. “Awesome.”

“Thanks, Flann.” Blake stood. “We’re gonna meet Terry and Phil at Clark’s. I’ll be home later.”

“Uh-huh,” Abby said. “Why don’t you two carry in those dishes, rinse them off, and then you can go. If you’re riding your bikes, you need to be back by dark.”

“We’ll walk,” Blake said. “Then we don’t have to be back—”

“Until ten,” Abby said.

Blake grinned. “Right.”

“I’ll give you a ride home, Margie,” Flann called as the two teens hustled into the house. She glanced at Abby. “That is, if you don’t mind having me around for a few more hours.”

“I don’t mind at all,” Abby said. Earlier that day, she hadn’t wanted to be alone with Flann in the empty house. She’d thought at the time she hadn’t wanted to be tempted, and worse, hadn’t wanted to give in. What a difference the day had made. Flann’s kisses were addictive, but it was more than kisses or the way Flann’s possessive gaze made Abby feel sexy and sensuous and daring. Flann was addictive, with her intensity, her unexpected tenderness, her humor, and her hidden vulnerabilities. Now the idea of a few hours alone with her was anything but worrisome. No way would Blake and Margie return early, and her bedroom had a nice breeze at night…if needed. “Let’s—”

“Let’s sit out front and finish this wine.” Flann picked up the half-empty bottle of Bordeaux and caught their glasses up by the stems in the other hand. “The sun’s about down now, but the moon will be out soon.”

“All right.” Abby led the way to the front porch. What had happened to Flann’s request for more kisses?

They sat side by side in the rockers and slowly sipped the dark, fruity wine as the moon rose beyond the town and the traffic noise faded away to be replaced by the near silence of a sleeping village. Abby’s house was at the far edge of town where Main Street drifted off into countryside, and soon even the lights from the village faded away.

“I used to think the night was empty because it was so quiet, but now I can hear the train whistle in the distance,” Abby said, “and the river lapping over the rocks, and the owls. It’s not empty, it’s alive.”

“Have you heard the coyotes?”

Abby laughed. “The first time I had goose bumps the size of thimbles all over my body. So eerie, yet so beautiful. It was after midnight, and I jumped up and rushed to the window, but I couldn’t see them.”

“Look along the river next time, they’ll be running there. You might catch a glimpse of ghost shadows in the moonlight.”

“You love it here as much as Harper, don’t you?”

Flann studied her wine. “I can’t imagine being anywhere else.”

“I think I could easily come to feel that way too,” Abby said. The clouds drifted across the moon, turning purple as the moonlight shone through, pulling at some place deep inside her, reminding her of how insignificant one life was and how precious each passing moment. “It’s pretty obvious Blake already has.”

Flann laughed. “Margie’s pretty persuasive.”

“Margie is an incredibly kind and generous and extraordinarily intelligent young woman.”

“She’s all of that.” Flann stretched and sighed. “I haven’t spent this much time just sitting outside in a long time.”

“You don’t belong in an apartment,” Abby said. “You belong in a place with a porch and some land to walk around on and—”

“A picket fence, a dog, and a few kids?” Flann said slowly.

“I don’t know about the last part.” Abby’s heart beat faster. “What do you think?”

“I would’ve said no way not that long ago. Now I’m not so sure.”

“Any reason?”

Flann smiled at her in the moonlight, the bold planes of her face highlighted in silver. “I can think of one or two.”

“I thought you said you wanted to kiss me earlier,” Abby said softly.

Flann put her wineglass on the floor and leaned over, brushing a kiss gently across Abby’s mouth, a tender, wistful kiss that had every bit as much power as her demanding, possessive kisses had earlier. Abby found herself holding her breath, waiting for the spell to break, but even when Flann eased back, the wonder remained.

Voice just a little shaky, Abby said, “I don’t know about you, but I think this is a dangerous game we’re playing.”

“No, it isn’t,” Flann said. “It’s no game at all.”