Page 38 of A Reckless Memory

My heart rate was climbing, and yes, I was defending Ansen on little more than blind conviction, but fuck it. I could channel Daddy to deal with someone who reminded me of Daddy. Only for all of Daddy’s faults, lying wasn’t one of them, which made me all the more upset at Gustafson. “I don’t believe for a split second he hurt an animal or did anything that led to its demise. I think he hurt your pride. I think your daughter’s behind some of this. And I think you should watch yourself because a libel lawsuit can be quite expensive. But you know he can’t afford that, don’t you? Yet you don’t know the same about me.”

“He’s gotten to you.”

God help me, maybe. But I was sick of guys trying to walk all over me, and in this instance, it seemed like Ansen wasn’t at fault. “No, he hasn’t. He’s gotten to my horses, and that’s the way it’s going to stay. If I hear about you calling one more place and shit-talking him, there’s going to be some harassment charges coming your way.”

“You don’t know what you’re doing—”

“I knew exactly what I was doing when I hired him.” Under the influence of Fireball, I’d still known he was the best thing for the animals. I hung up, tossed the phone on the seat, and spun out. I’d heard one side of the story. Now it was time to hear the other.

Minutes later, I was pulling up in front of the old trailer house. Ansen had fixed the wonky railing on the front steps and repaired the trim by the windows I’d been afraid the wind would rip off. I had planted flowers over the summer in the flower beds around the base, and he’d cleaned those up too.

His pickup was parked out front, but that didn’t mean he was home. I marched up to his door, the bitter November wind buffeting around me, and it swung open before I could knock. Savory smells rolled out, mitigating my adrenaline.

Did I come here so he could recount his Kansas experience...or as an excuse to quit avoiding him?

“Aggie,” he said, surprised. Rightfully so. It’d been a week since the kiss.

“What happened in Kansas? The whole story?” My stomach growled, and the sound was thankfully smothered by my coat. What was he cooking?

He stepped back to let me in. The warmth of the place surrounded me and his scent crowded in. He’d only been here for a little over three weeks. How could every surface have filled with him?

I sniffed. Whatever he was cooking had my stomach’s number. “What are you making?”

“Bacon to go with my everything omelet.”

“With my eggs?”

His grin was lazy. “Was I supposed to bring those to the house? I thought they were part of my benefits package.”

That smile of his went straight to the nexus between my thighs. I summoned the outrage from my talk with Gustafson. “All the eggs, Ansen?”

He snickered. “I was wondering how long it’d take for you to hunt them down.”

I was still using the stock the hens had supplied me with before he arrived. The principle of the matter was my concern. They were good eggs. “Are you adding stealing to your repertoire?”

His expression shut down, and the cut of his jaw could crack those eggs.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Shit, I didn’t mean...”

“It’s fine.” The Ansen from before never used to shut down like this. “Hungry?”

I kept my tone teasing. “For my eggs and bacon? Yes. What exactly is everything in the omelet?”

“I’ll leave the bell peppers off yours.”

He remembered. I hung my coat by his hat and followed him into the kitchen. All my furniture was in place, but touches of him were all over. His black cowboy hat hung on a hook by the door. Clean laundry was piled on one cushion of the couch. He hated folding. I could tell what chair he used when he ate at the table. I took the one on the opposite side.

“What brought up Kansas?” He took a sizzling pan off the burner and set it on a hot pad, then busied himself with a cutting board and ham and onions. I had nothing to do but stare out the sliding door to the sagging porch in the back or look at him. I should’ve called instead.

“Gustafson tracked me down. I just got off the phone with him.”

He set the knife down and pressed his hands on top of the counter that cut between the dining area and the kitchen. Anger radiated over his strong features, and under the dark stubble along his jaw, a muscle jumped. I could swoon, dammit. “What’d he say?”

“I’m sure you know. I want to hear the story from you.”

He let out a long breath. “I told you all of it.”

“He said you broke up with her after he said he wouldn’t pass on the company but that you could buy it.”

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