“Unfortunately.” Then she frowns. “Hmm. I don’t remember your grandfather having goats.”
I gently nudge a couple more goats away from us and kneel, brushing aside some sticks and dead grass, clearing a spot for us to sit.
“It was way back before he had bees. I was really young, so it would’ve been before you came sneaking around that first time.” I pat the ground beside me. “Have a seat, Peach.”
She plants herself down, cautiously, keeping one leg stiffer.
“Trying to steal honeycomb.” She chuckles. “How stupid was that?”
“Pretty damn dumb,” I agree.
“Harsh!” She playfully whacks me in the bicep. “I apologized, remember?”
“Oh, yeah,” I say, mock-rubbing my arm and wincing. I didn’t actually feel a thing, but I do it so she laughs.
Man, she’s cute.
Nah, wait.
She was cute when she was young and wearing pie filling.
Now? She’s goddamn ravishing. Gorgeous. Straight-up knock out territory.
Her hair is pulled back in a long ponytail, and it’s not just chestnut-brown like I remember. It’s turned this rich auburn cinnamon shade, laced with short stripes of pink.
She’s still the same thin, long-legged girl I remember, but she’s filled out and ripened in ways that won’t stop hounding my cock.
Shit. I knew my mind would go there eventually.
That last summer, when she was seventeen, I’d started to look at her in a grown-up way. I’d been twenty, so she was definitely off-limits. Jailbait in a town like Dallas, and anywhere else for good reason.
A few years apart when you’re young is a gaping chasm. But when you’re older, when you’ve both turned into responsible adults…
No.
Not even going there.
Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever.
It’s Tory for fuck’s sake. Not some sexy stranger for me to slobber over.
“So do you think you’re back for good?” she asks, patting Owl’s head. The big bear of a mastiff sprawls out on her other side, resting his head on her thigh.
“No,” I admit. “I mean, no plans to hang around here permanently. Just came here to fix up the old place. Get it ready for sale and get my head straight for what’s next.”
“Oh? Where’d you live before all these years? After you left the Army, I mean?”
I find myself glancing at her hands, looking for a ring. I figure her granny would’ve mentioned it for sure if she was married, but I can’t help snooping anyway. Nope, no jewelry.
“Here and there,” I tell her. “Spent lots of time back in Oklahoma, the OKC. I was assigned there for a few years.”
“Assigned?”
“I was with the FBI for several years after I took my discharge from the military. Trained in Quantico and then they sent me to work pretty close to home.”
“Wow. I did not know that.” She looks at me and blinks like she’s seeing someone else.
Hell, knowing the expression I’m wearing, maybe she is.
“Not too many people do.” I’m holding out on her for obvious reasons. “I’m on a sabbatical of sorts. Still helping with cases where I can here in Dallas to keep my skills sharp, detective-for-hire type stuff. All safe, easy gigs and quick cash.”
That’s not completely true. I was on sabbatical till I’d turned in my resignation.
“Sabbatical.” She nods. “Cool. Everybody deserves some time off. Just look at me.”
No, it’s not fucking cool. I’d taken a sabbatical because one case went hideously awry, and it was all my fault. Searching for a change of subject, I point to her leg.
“So you’re just here till the knee heals up? How long will that be?”
“A couple months at most. End of summer, I guess.” She makes a cute grimace. “Unless Granny gets sick of me and kicks me out sooner.”
I snort. “Can’t see that happening.”
“You don’t know my grandmother like I do.” She lays a hand on my forearm. “I know it’s too late, but I’m sorry about your grandpa’s death. I understand he died pretty suddenly, right?”
I nod. “Thanks. Yeah, I was the only one who made it back here to be at his side in time, but I came. He passed away peacefully, and he wasn’t alone.”
“I’m glad. Grandpa Faulkner was a good man. The folks in town still talk about him sometimes. They miss his honey.”
“Yeah,” I chuckle. “He was still messing around with his bees and selling jars of that stuff almost up to his dying day. I’ve got a few jars somewhere. Stuff keeps forever.”
Tory smiles. Not about to change the conversation back to me, I look up and I’m glad to see the rain has stopped. Several of the goats poke their heads out from under the tree, slowly venturing deeper into the brush.
“Well, looks like it’s clearing up,” I tell her. “We’d better leave and let the goats do their thing.”
She looks up at the blue sky and sunshine lancing down. “That was fast! I’d forgotten how quick the rains can come and go here. Guess I’ve lived with the big lake effect for too long back home.”