“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.