Page 44 of Refuge for Flora

“By the way, how oldareyou?”

“I’m thirty-four. How old are you?”

“Just had my fortieth birthday.”

“Then I guess we’re okay. You’re not robbing the cradle, and I won’t have to look for a home for you in the next two years.”

Barrett had managed to stop laughing, but he couldn’t wipe the smile from his face. “You’d better get inside. Give me one more kiss and I’ll see you… tomorrow maybe?”

The smile Flora returned was small and gentle. “I’d like that.” When she kissed him that time, he could’ve sworn he heard angels sing. “Okay. I’d better go,” she said as she broke the kiss. “She’ll be stomping around and making a fuss. So goodnight. Text me later?”

He nodded. “I will.”

“Okay. And thanks for bringing me back.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way. Bye, babe.”

“Bye!” From where he sat in the truck, it looked like she was almost skipping as she headed to the door, but as soon as she opened it, she turned and gave him a wave, so he waved back.

In five minutes, he was back in his house, door closed and locked. It was only nine thirty, but he really wanted to go to bed just so he could lie there in the sheets where they’d made love.

Yes?made love. That’s what they’d done. It had been amazing. Flora was everything he wanted in a woman. Question was, what would it take to keep Darryl away from her? He wasn’t sure, but he’d do it, whatever it was. Was there anything he wouldn’t do to keep Darryl away? Barrett thought about it for few seconds.

Nope. He was pretty sure there wasn’t.

Chapter 6

Rain poundingon the roof woke Flora, and she couldn’t go back to sleep. Instead, she got up, made a pot of coffee, and set about baking some biscuits for breakfast. As soon as they were in the oven, she started prepping vegetables, and when they were finished, she finished up the veggies, got the meat out to sear, and set a pot on to simmer the stew all day. By ten o’clock, they’d had breakfast and she’d cleaned that up, she’d helped Mrs.Murphy shower and dress, and the aroma of the stew was filling the little house. Once she’d taken inventory and knew she had what she needed to make cornbread, she got the washer and dryer going, cleaned up both bathrooms, and dusted everything in the living room, even though Mrs.Murphy kept bitching about Flora getting between her and the game show she was watching on TV.

At a little after one, she sent a text to Barrett as she sat on the bed, dressing after her shower:Whatcha up to?

It took a while before he answered:Stakeout with Kirby. Poachers. Think they’re selling pelts.

That wasn’t good. She sent a text back:Good luck.

All she got was a simple,Thx.

She spent the rest of the afternoon wishing she had a way to check her email, but it was raining too hard to go to the library, so she read instead. She didn’t hear from Barrett for the rest of the day, and at five o’clock, she pulled out bowls, ladled out the stew, cut the cornbread, and she and Mrs.Murphy ate in the living room on tray tables while they watched the early evening and national news.

But at a little after seven, she heard something that sounded like a car door and the sound of heavy footfalls on the porch, followed by a loud knock. When she opened the door, she gasped. Barrett stood there, water dripping from his hair and clothes, and he was soaked through. “What happened?”

“Had to pursue those guys on four-wheelers. I’m waterlogged. I was supposed to go to Mom and Dad’s for dinner, but I missed it. I…” And he stopped.

“Get in here,” Flora snapped and stepped back to let him in.

Water flew from his hair in every direction as he shook his head. “I’ll drip all over the floor.”

“Fuck it all, boy, these floors has seen better days. If you’re cold and wet, get yore ass in here and get warmed up. Flora, you got more-a that stew?” the old woman called out.

“Of course. Let’s get you a towel and you can take a shower and warm up while I dry your clothes.”

“I’ve got a duffel in the back seat of my truck…”

“Then get it and you’ll have something dry to wear. Go on. Hurry up. It’s chilly out here!” Flora told him as she stood in the doorway. She watched him run to the truck, and he came back with a small camo duffel. “Carry clothes around with you?” she asked sarcastically, figuring he’d planned the whole thing.

“Always. I never know when I’m going to wind up in this shape,” he answered as he sloshed past her, and she blushed. She’d thought he was planning to spend the night, but it turned out that was just how he rolled on a regular basis.

She started the shower to get the water hot while he peeled off his wet clothes. As soon as he was under the steaming stream, she grabbed him a towel, tossed a washcloth over the curtain, and told him she’d have his bag unpacked by the time he got out.

---