* * *
LUKEJAMMEDHIShands in the pockets of his cargo shorts, wishing he could disappear. With his mom and Gram both inside the house, he didn’t know any of the other adults. Except the sheriff—and Luke would rather not face him.
One of the sheriff’s daughters was pleading with her dad to kick a soccer ball back and forth; the other girl had gone off by herself. In Luke’s opinion, she had the right idea. He suddenly found himself walking in that direction.
Although the twins were technically identical, they were pretty easy to tell apart. The one beneath the tree had a pink backpack and her hair was braided the same way it had been yesterday; she was the one who’d wanted the candy bar. Alyssa, her dad had called her.
She glared when she saw him coming. “I don’t like you.”
A common opinion. Luke wasn’t sure his mom liked him, either. Sometimes, he wasn’t even sure he liked himself. “Whatcha got there?”
“Nothing.” She hunched forward, protectively. He couldn’t see what she was drawing, but he could tell she had a sketch pad in her lap. Crayons spilled from her open backpack across the grass.
“What are you drawing?”
“Go away.”
The side of his mouth lifted in a grin. For a little kid, she certainly wasn’t intimidated by a teenager twice her height. “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble yesterday.” Despite the way his stomach had hurt when he’d seen the Trents in the yard, now he was kind of glad they were here. The chance to apologize was an unexpected relief. “I’m sorry. Really.”
Her head lifted, and she studied him for a long moment.
“I was just trying to do something nice,” he added. “I thought he should have bought you the candy bar.”
“You made a poor decision.” The way she said it sounded like she was imitating an adult. Her dad, probably.
Jealousy pinched Luke’s insides. It caught him off guard whenever he felt this—envy for all the regular kids who still had fathers. It wasn’t as if he wanted anyone else’s dad to die. He just wished his own was still around. Sometimes Luke could hear his dad’s voice so clearly he could almost pretend they were on the phone. Other days, his dad’s voice was faded and distorted, like bad audio on a corrupt game file.
His throat burning, he backed away from Alyssa. “I’ll leave you alone.”
“Wait! It’s a horse.” She held up the pad. “But it’s not very good.”
It was terrible. The legs weren’t the right scale to the rest of the body, the neck was weirdly lumpy, and the nose looked like a crocodile snout. Plus, horses shouldn’t be purple. But he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. What if she cried again?
“Keep trying. With enough practice, you could get so good you surprise yourself.” He’d heard his mom say that to music students. He hoped it would be enough to make Alyssa feel better about her mutant horse. He stared at the picture, trying to find a positive. “The tail looks right.”
“Thank you.” She brightened a little. “My nana said this is a farm. Do you have horses?”
“No. There are goats, though.” Taking her toward the barn to look for the goats would kill some time until the food was ready and keep Luke away from the sheriff. “Wanna go see them?”
“Okay.” She picked up her backpack, frowning as she zipped it. “But don’t you dare stick candy in my bag.”
He recalled his mom’s stern warning. Do not screw this up. Everyone thought he was too stupid to learn from his mistakes. “I said I was sorry.”
“Then I guess you can be my friend.”
“Gee, thanks.” His first friend in a new town, and it was a five-year-old girl. Still, as they headed to the barn, he had to admit it was kind of nice not to be walking alone.
* * *
COLEHADJUSTretrieved the soccer ball from some rose bushes at the side of the house when his dad clapped him on the back.
“You look like you could use a break, son.” Harvey Trent said. “Mandy, I’m not sure your dad can keep up with you! How about Paw-paw takes a turn while your dad grabs a cold drink?” Lowering his voice to a whisper, he added, “And talks to the pretty girl.”
Cole groaned. “Did Mom put you up to this?”
Harvey took the soccer ball from his son’s hands. “No one has to ‘put me up to’ enjoying time with my granddaughter.”
If Cole’s parents thought Kate Sullivan wanted him to talk to her, they must be blind. The woman’s “stay back” vibe was so strong, he expected to see gnats and butterflies bouncing off the invisible force field that surrounded her. After the casseroles other women in town had baked him over the years and Becca Johnston’s less than subtle pursuit, Kate’s disinterest should be refreshing. Except...he wouldn’t mind seeing those hazel eyes fixed on him with a feminine interest. There’d been a moment at the gas station yesterday, a brief flicker of connection.
Or was that wishful thinking on his part?
Not that it mattered, he thought as he pulled a can of soda from the cooler and popped the tab. Whatever spark might have been there seemed to have been extinguished when he busted her son. Still, this welcome party was in her honor. Not talking to her would be rude. He approached the table where the women were chatting. Mr. Ross stood a few feet off to the side, working the grill.
As Cole neared the group, he overheard Mrs. Ross bragging about her son, Jarrett. “...so good with young people. He spends a few weeks every summer working at a horse-riding camp. It’s a shame he couldn’t be here today.”
Kate’s expression was a discordant cross between placating smile and deer-in-the-headlights stare. Cole experienced a twinge of sympathy. Were they already trying to fix her up with someone? Jarrett Ross was a good guy, but he was gone a lot on the rodeo circuit. Although Mrs. Ross might be eager for her son to settle into a steady relationship, as far as Cole knew, Jarrett was thoroughly enjoying the admiration of his female fans.
“It’s also a shame Crystal couldn’t be here,” Kate interjected, surprising Cole by glancing his way. She was obviously desperate for a change of subject. “If her family had made it, your girls would have had more kids to play with.”
“Luckily for me, the girls are pretty good at entertaining themselves. Mandy’s happy as long as she has a soccer ball, and Alyssa...” He looked toward the tree where his daughter had been sitting. She was often content with quieter hobbies, like coloring or reading her favorite picture books. But she was no longer there.
Following his gaze, Joan Denby said, “She’s with Luke. I watched them walk over that hill a few minutes ago.”
“You’re kidding.” Last Cole had heard, his daughter was still ticked off at the teen. What had enticed her to wander off with him?
Joan nodded. “They headed in the general direction of the barn.”
“Maybe I should round them up.” Kate shot hastily to her feet.
Was she worried the two kids were into mischief? Cole didn’t know Luke Sullivan. Had the kid’s shoplifting been an aberration, or was he a habitual troublemaker?
“I’ll go with you,” Cole volunteered.
Kate bit her lip. Whether she wanted his company or not, it wasn’t as though she could forbid him to check on his own child.
They fell into step with each other, making their way down the small green slope that curved behind the farmhouse. The barn was visible, the distance of a couple of football fields away, but he didn’t see the kids yet. They might have been inside or