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brought swim trunks, right? I thought we might go for a quick swim after we head over to our side of the fence.”

“Yeah!” Sean leaped up and punched the air. “I love it here!” Then he ran for the farmhouse, leaving Quinn standing by himself.

Chapter 14

Early the next morning just as the sun was beginning to shine through the bedroom curtains, Georgia growled, then sat up in bed and barked. Her ears pricked forward, her gaze locked on the bedroom doorway.

Abby sat up and glanced at the clock; just after 7:00 a.m., about a half hour too early for Quinn’s arrival.

Someone tapped at the glass door. Georgia growled, but her tail wagged, too. She hopped off the bed and ran out of the bedroom. A second later, Abby heard the dog door bump. Georgia’s happy barroo! let Abby know this was a friend. Sean must have woken Quinn early.

Abby put her knee on the scooter she’d parked next to the bed and hopped into the kitchen. She slid the glass door open to see Sean kneeling on the patio and caressing Georgia’s ears. Quinn wasn’t there.

“Hey, Sean. Good morning. Where’s your dad?”

Sean looked up and grimaced. “Still sleeping.” He handed over Wolf’s daily delivery of newsprint. “And I’m bored. Can I help with the chores?”

“Let’s get some breakfast going first, okay?” Quinn always did the chores before breakfast, and Abby wasn’t about to let Sean do the chores without supervision. “Come on in.”

She hit the button on the coffee maker, then leaned down awkwardly over the scooter’s handlebars to open the narrow drawer beside the oven.

“Let me.” Sean opened the drawer for her, revealing vertical dividers where the sheet pans were stored. “What do you want?”

“I need the big, flat cookie sheet on the left and the smaller one on the far right.”

She turned on the oven, then cut parchment paper to fit each of the sheet pans. Sean parceled out frozen biscuits on the smaller pan. (Yes, frozen biscuits. Guilty as charged. She hoped he wouldn’t snitch.) She arranged bacon strips across the larger pan, then covered it with aluminum foil.

Quinn tapped on the door, then came on in. “I see you’ve kidnapped my son.”

“Yes.” Abby started breaking eggs into a bowl. “My evil master plan is already a success. Do you want to know the next step I have planned for world domination?”

“Not really.” Quinn peeked in the oven.

Abby swatted him with the dish towel—at least, she tried to. The damn scooter wasn’t as agile as she’d prefer. “You have a half hour to do the chores before breakfast. Y’all better get busy unless you want to eat cold eggs.”

“Awww,” Sean pouted. “I wanted to help you cook.”

“Come on, dude.” Quinn herded Sean out the door, with Georgia right behind them. “You’re on the clock.”

Abby sliced a red bell pepper—western omelets and skillet potatoes today, she decided—while Stella, the new kitten, twined at her ankles and purred, hoping for a handout.

The days with Quinn had settled into a homey domestic routine of morning chores and breakfast—sometimes by the pool—followed by several hours of alone time while Quinn worked on his property. When Quinn wasn’t around, Abby did housework or sent out résumés through the job-search sites she’d been using to find an office-manager position. (So far, no bites, even after she’d widened her search radius.)

Every day while he did the evening feed, she cooked dinner, and they’d usually sit by the pool with wine afterward. They’d have been in the pool every evening if not for her stupid cast, and Abby knew she should be thankful for that situation, because if they were in the pool together, the eventual outcome would be drifting together followed by kisses, followed by…

Abby shut the door on that thought.

Just as well Sean was here for the weekend, because even with the added level of difficulty presented by the cast on her foot, she had come dangerously close to letting Quinn venture into below-the-waist territory. Once that happened, she knew it would all be over but the shoutin’. They’d sleep together, and she’d fall in love. Bad, bad idea.

She had no business falling in love. A summer fling might have been possible if Quinn had been less charming or intelligent or helpful around here. But unfortunately, he possessed all the qualities she’d be looking for in a man, if she were looking. Well, except for the fact that he had a kid. A nice kid that she’d also be in danger of caring way too much about.

A heady and horrible combination she should stay well away from if she wanted to keep her peace of mind. Sure, Abby still hoped to be a mother one of these days, even though she knew that loving another child wouldn’t banish the ache of losing Emily. But now wasn’t the time. She needed to heal, and she had to do that on her own. “Moving forward,” she said out loud. “Take care of yourself before you take on anyone else.”

Besides, it was becoming clear that any suitable job she might find was likely to be far from here. She chopped a yellow onion with more gusto than necessary, filling the air with a sharp, biting scent that made her eyes water.

The house phone rang, and she quickly washed her hands before scooting to Reva’s office area—a converted coat closet—and picking up.

“Hey,” Reva said. “I have a short break between classes and wanted to check in.”

Abby stuck the phone between her shoulder and her ear and scooted back toward the kitchen. “Everything’s fine.”

“Did you ever talk to that wolf dog again?”

Shit, no. Abby started setting the table. “I haven’t seen him. I know he’s eating the food Quinn—I mean, the food I’ve been putting out by the side of the road.”

Silence. Judgment. Abby shouldn’t have changed her story midsentence.

“I’m sorry I haven’t made time to connect in—or try to—but I promise I’ll do it this afternoon.”

“Ask him where he’s been sleeping at night. The answer might

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