“I better get my butt up to the main house and say hello to your parents before your momma puts a round of buckshot in me.” I stand up, taking my hat off, running my fingers through my hair before putting it back on.
“Yeah, Dad asked about you too. Fucking sucks that half his body is working while the other half isn’t. He’s still as sharp as a tack.” From what my own parents told me, he won’t be able to do as much as he once did, but they didn’t let on how bad it actually was. Hell, both of my parents and siblings came out to help for the first few weeks, but they could only ignore their own farm for so long. It’s haying season, and they supply most of the farms in this area of Texas. It was a hit when I left, but they understood that it wasn’t in my dreams to work on the farm the rest of my days. That doesn’t mean now that I’m home, I won’t help out there.
“I’ll be on my way to the main house then. You need help tomorrow?” I ask.
“Nah, go help your family out. Tomorrow’s Sunday, and we don’t have people on the property. Maybe I can get Laney to take a fucking break too. I swear if she’s not on a horse, she’s in the office until two o’clock in the morning.” I arch my eyebrow at that. Rhett doesn’t have much room to talk—he’s a work horse himself.
“Alright, holler if something changes.” As much as I want to go find Laney, I know today was enough of a push for her, and now that I’m home, there’s no way I’m going to leave her alone, not ever again.
Four
Laney
“God Bless Texas,” I say as I walk through the door into the kitchen noisier than I should. Momma and Daddy are probably in bed for the night, Daddy’s hospital bed next to theirs.
“Watch your mouth, young lady. You’re never too old for me to get you with my shoe.” She’s usually in bed by the time I drag my butt through the door, but apparently not tonight.
“Sorry, but you kind of scared me sitting all alone in the house at this time of night. Is Daddy okay? Are you okay?” I ask, my mind going to the worst possible scenario.
“No, no. Have a seat. Something tells me you’re going to need it.” She stands up in her house robe and slippers and heads to the fridge, pulling out the big guns.
“Oh man, is that French silk pie?” My eyes are bigger than my stomach thinking about the chocolate deliciousness.
“Yep, you’ll never guess who brought it over either, fresh from his mom’s kitchen.” Momma looks pleased as a punch.
“Well, don’t keep me waiting.” She cuts two slices of pie, placing each of them on a plate and grabbing forks before she sits down.
“Creed brought it. Of course, you know his mom made it for us, but apparently, he asked her to make it for you. That’s not the real kicker though.” Man, Creed must really be making the rounds and pissing me off along the way.
“How is that even possible? And what did he do now?” Momma blows out a breath, shoving my plate towards me, probably to shut me up while she talks.
“If you’d hush, you would know already. He dropped it off this morning, but we didn’t see him. I was upstairs with Daddy, but you know this house is always full of people coming and going. It wasn’t until I made breakfast that I saw what was snuck into our fridge. There’s only one person in this town who makes this pie, and there’s only one person who would deliver it without making his presence known.” I take a bite of the pie, the flavors hitting my taste buds, causing me to moan.
“Gosh, Mrs. Montgomery sure knows how to bake. I wish I had that family trait.” My mom is the baker, always has been. I’d much rather cook dinner. The thought of being consistent in measurements terrifies me. It’s probably because my mind is going in five thousand directions and I’m less likely to mess up a recipe cooking than baking a cake.
“I tried. Lord knows I tried. Same with knitting. It just didn’t work.” She takes a bite. Silence fills the kitchen. I’m secretly hoping this story is over. A shower and my bed are calling my name in the worst way.
“Anyway, this afternoon, Creed stopped by to say hello to your father and me. Well, imagine my surprise when he made his intentions known when it comes to you. Why didn’t you tell me that when he left, things went downhill?” I’m sure if there were a mirror in front of me, absolute mortification could be seen on my face, along with the redness that rears its head from chest to cheeks.