“Okay.”

“Good. I’ll go get Sally Lynn, and we’ll go over things together.”

By the time she finished admitting him, it was almost eleven thirty. She hadn’t had anything to eat since she’d made pancakes and eggs for Flann at six in the morning. Flann had gone home to go to sleep, and her big plans for the day had been to plant a half dozen tomato seedlings in the back garden. That had been put on hold when she’d gotten the call from the PA in the ER who thought John Prince was on the verge of heart failure. After seeing John into the elevator to the ICU, she stopped in the cafeteria to grab lunch. As she carried her tray to a table by the window, she saw Presley sitting alone with a cup of coffee, a half-eaten sandwich, and her iPad. She hesitated, then headed for her.

“Do you mind some company?”

Presley looked up and smiled. “Not at all. Please.” She put her iPad aside. “Just finishing rounds?”

“No, had a patient in the ER to see. You?”

“Just finished up.”

“I guess I can’t talk you into softball?” Harper asked, biting into her turkey club sandwich.

“You’re nothing if not persistent. But no.”

Harper grinned, twisted the top off her bottle of water, and took a swallow, studying Presley. She was dressed for work again—soft pale green shirt with a cream-colored jacket and black trousers. Her makeup was subtle, her hair loose and pushed back behind her ears. She wore a single ring on the ring finger of her right hand, a square-cut dark red stone in a gold band. Simple, elegant. Exactly like her. “Persistence is often rewarded.”

“Not this time, I’m afraid,” Presley said. Charming was an understatement where the Rivers sisters were concerned, but now she was forewarned—and armed. “I do need to know where to get rooster—chicken food, though.”

“For the rooster in the tree?”

“Yes. Well, he’s not in the tree right now. He’s digging around in the yard.”

“It’s summer,” Harper said. “With all the grass and hay around, he’s probably doing pretty well.”

“I was just reading that he should have grit and some corn and high-quality food as well. I have a list already of what I need.”

“You looked that up on the Internet, huh?”

Presley regarded her guardedly. “Yes, why?”

“You realize you could have asked just about anyone here and they would’ve been able to tell you.”

“Number one, I don’t know anyone here except you and your family, and number two…” She shook her head. Harper was far too good at getting her to discuss things she had no intention of discussing. “Never mind.”

“And number two,” Harper said with maddening self-assurance, “you’re used to doing things for yourself.”

Harper was right, and her perceptiveness left Presley feeling uncomfortably exposed. “I suppose, yes, that’s true. Aren’t you?”

“Sure—unless someone knows more than I do and I can save myself time and a headache by asking.”

“That means you have to trust them,” Presley pointed out.

Harper gave her a long look. “It does.”

“Seeing as you weren’t around, I was forced to turn to other sources of information.”

“Does that mean you trust me?”

Presley flushed. Damn it, Harper was doing it again. “Where chickens are concerned.”

Harper laughed. “If you’re done with lunch, I’ll take you to the feed store and we can see about outfitting your rooster.”

“That’s not necessary. If you just tell me—”

“I’d like to,” Harper said.

“If you’re sure, I’d appreciate it.” Presley paused. “In fact, I’d like that too. For Rooster’s sake, of course.”

“Of course.” Harper’s slow-lidded smile sent a shiver down Presley’s spine that she resolutely ignored.

Chapter Fifteen

Presley wandered around a store creatively called Tractor Supply consulting the list on her iPhone of things she needed for Rooster. While she shopped, Harper chatted with one of the clerks at the checkout counter. She paused in one section containing racks of shirts and pants and boots. Who knew you could shop for clothes at the tractor store? She plucked a green-and-white checked shirt from a hanger and held it out. The simple style and bright colors had a certain charm. She laughed to herself, thinking how that would go over in the boardroom matched with a pair of jeans and boots. The memory of Harper looking totally at ease in a plain white shirt and faded jeans reminded her that actions, not the outward trappings of success, were the true measure of ability.

“Looking to expand your wardrobe?” Harper said from behind her.

Presley put the shirt back. “Just…curious.”

“That navy would look good on you.” Harper held up a cotton top with a scooped neck.

She was right. The blue would complement her eyes. Looking at clothes with Harper seemed too familiar, too personal, somehow—as if Harper were mentally dressing or undressing her. The intimacy was unnerving. Growing up, Presley had shopped with her mother and had quickly learned to accept her mother’s choices over her own desires. She’d occasionally shopped with friends in high school until one of the girls was caught shoplifting, and Presley’s parents threatened to freeze her credit cards if she continued with unauthorized purchases. As an adult, she had a regular personal shopper at one of the upscale department stores who would choose an assortment of pieces for her when she called and have them ready for her to try on when she arrived.

She held up the top and had no trouble imagining Harper in a big sunny bedroom, a backdrop of brilliant blue sky outside the window, slowly easing the simple cotton shirt over her head. Of her breasts falling free and Harper’s hands—

“I guess it makes sense to shop here while you’re getting the rest of your supplies.” Presley put the shirt back and quickly walked on with no destination in mind.

“The clothes tend to be better made for hard work,” Harper said when she caught up to her. “And in a lot of cases less expensive than similar things at regular department stores.”

Presley grabbed a pair of women’s work boots. Thankfully, they didn’t conjure the slightest erotic thought in her head. “I’m trying to figure out what I would be doing to need these.”

Harper laughed. “If you had chickens, you might want to wear them while you’re cleaning out the coop.”

“Give me a little time to get my mind around that,” Presley murmured and set the boots down.

“City girl.”

Harper’s tone was teasing and Presley decided she liked it.

“Come on,” Harper said, “there’s something I want to show you.”

“I’m breathless with anticipation.”

“Then just hold that thought.”

Harper reached out, and for a second Presley thought she was going to take her hand. A flush of pleasure raced through her as she lifted her own, automatically ready to take Harper’s. Harper stilled, that dark unfathomable look back in her eyes. The breath inexplicably stilled in Presley’s chest.

“This way,” Harper said quietly, her hand slowly falling back to her side.

Presley nodded, knowing she should feel foolish, but she didn’t. For just a few minutes, she wanted to let go of everything she’d been trained to do and want, and just follow her instincts. And her instinct was to follow Harper.

She pushed her oversized cart down rows stacked with big bags of animal and bird feed, through aisles filled with fence posts and stakes and all manner of tools, large and small, watering troughs, and other equipment. Toward the back of the warehouse, waist-high barriers screened off four sections about eight feet square. Harper stopped and pointed into one of them. Presley looked down and caught her breath.

“Oh.” A frightening melting sensation filled her chest.

A dozen fluffy yellow balls, about four inches high with feet, scurried around, pecking at the straw and the crushed feed in a little tin tray with miniature beaks so fragile they didn’t even appear real. Little feathers, coarser and darker, displaced some of the fuzz covering their wings.

“Chicks.” Presley stated the obvious and hoped she sounded less girlish than she felt.

“Yep. They’re the last of the bunch. It’s a little late in the season and these are bigger than they usually are when they go home, but that’s a good thing because you don’t have to be as careful about the temperature as you would if they were hatchlings.”

“They’re really cute.”

Harper cradled one in her hands and passed it to Presley. “Here.”

Having no choice, Presley took it. The feathers were incredibly soft, and its bright black eyes reminded her of Rooster’s, inquisitive and lively. It pecked at her finger and she laughed. “They never stop that, do they?”

“Pretty much never. Chad says if you take half a dozen, they’re yours for five dollars.”

Presley stared at her. “What in the world would I do with half a dozen chickens?”

Harper grinned. “That rooster will know what to do.”

Presley raised a brow. “I imagine that he would. But aside from the obvious, I don’t think we can trust him to take care of all the other matters.”

“Chickens pretty much look after themselves, once they’re a little bigger. I’ll take a look at the coop and get it back into shape for you. Nature will do the rest.”

Reluctantly, Presley put the chick back into the pen. “I can’t. I have no idea how to look after them, and what about when I’m gone?”

“You’ll find someone to take them. Or eat them.”

Presley gasped. “Certainly not.”

“If you change your mind, they’ll be here a few more days.”

“Rooster is quite enough of a responsibility,” Presley said and backed away so she wouldn’t see the milling chicks and could quash the impulse to take them home. “Besides, we have cats in the barn. They might eat them.”

“Barn cats know about chickens. They’d probably be friends.”

For an insane moment, Presley considered it. They were cute and, from her reading, not very much trouble at all. And she’d get eggs… Reason mercifully prevailed. She’d be long gone before these little ones were ready to lay eggs. “No.”

“Okay,” Harper said, her tone suggesting she wasn’t convinced Presley was convinced.

To prove her certainty, Presley pushed her cart hurriedly to the checkout counter.

Once outside, Harper piled the supplies in the back of her pickup truck. “I’ll drive you back to the hospital so you can get your car.”

Presley checked her watch. “Don’t you have softball practice this afternoon?”

Harper nodded.

“Where?”

“Out past my place a bit.” Harper opened Presley’s door for her.

“Thanks.” Presley was used to people opening doors for her, but when Harper did it, she felt special. Harper treated her as if she was all that mattered—as if time had no meaning when they were together. She climbed into the truck and Harper started the engine. “That took longer than I expected. If you drive me back to the hospital, you’re going to be late.”

“That’s okay. I’m having fun.”

So am I. So much fun, she’d lost track of time, something she never did. “Flannery will object, I expect. Just take me home—I’m on your way. I’ll have Lila drive me to get my car when she leaves today.”

“How about I stop home and change, and you come with me to practice. I’ll take you home after and carry this stuff in for you.”

Presley frowned. “Wait. What are you talking about? Why would I go to practice?”

Harper grinned and pointed at the sky. “Saturday afternoon. Blue sky, warm sunshine. It’s a beautiful day. Carrie will be there too. What are you going to do at home?”

“Well, I—” Presley folded her arms, aggravated at being put on the spot, and thought about her usual weekend activities. An hour at the gym in the mornings, an espresso on the way back to her condo, and then catching up on the week’s news on her iPad. By the afternoon, she’d be bored and end up working until the obligatory business or family gathering on Saturday evening. She hadn’t considered what she’d do here on the weekend. The gym was out, since she hadn’t seen anything resembling one in town. She had no plans for the evening and had already worked half a day. She had several books on her iPad she was planning on reading—but that sounded like an excuse, which it wasn’t. Not exactly. “I have quite a few things already planned.”

“Three hours,” Harper said, “counting the trip to your house and mine. If you’re not enjoying yourself, I’ll take you home.”

The idea of relaxing in the sun was oddly appealing. There was nothing waiting for her at the White place except Rooster, and he’d be there later in the day. And spending a few hours watching Harper would be no hardship. “All right, but I want your word that you won’t badger me about playing.”