She smiled. She’d never have to escape again. She was already home. She was as sure of that now as Blake had been almost from the beginning. All she needed was to be sure the job worked out and Blake adjusted to his new school. No small tasks for either of them, but they’d both made great progress so far. Thanks to Margie, Blake had a growing circle of friends who would help him when school started, and she had made solid inroads to getting the ER residency program up and running. And then there was Flann.

Flann was a very definite reason to want to stay right where she was.

As if reading Abby’s thoughts, Flann appeared at the top of the drive. “Hey! You made it.”

“According to Blake, we’re already late.”

“Not to worry. People will be drifting in and out all day.” Flann wore her usual nonhospital attire of work boots, jeans, and a T-shirt, this time with her sleeves cut off and a raggedy V slashed at the neck. The shirt was tight enough to show the curves of her breasts if you were looking, and Abby was looking. She shaded her eyes, the better to take in every inch of her, and Flann slowed as if knowing exactly what she was doing. The easy grin Abby was coming to love spread across her face.

“Sleep okay?” Flann slid her hands into her pockets and rocked a little on her heels, waiting for Abby to draw next to her.

Abby wanted to say How could I, considering the state you left me in, but she decided to be more subtle for the moment. “Great. How about you?”

Flann leaned close, her breath warm against Abby’s cheek. “Had a hard time getting to sleep, thinking about all the things I wanted to do with you and didn’t get a chance.”

Abby drew a long breath, savoring the earthy freshness of her. She’d know Flann’s scent anywhere. “Really? I fell asleep the second I lay down.”

“And here I thought you never exaggerated.” Flann chuckled and slipped an arm around her waist. “Didn’t you think about me just a little?”

Abby slid her hand onto Flann’s back, tracing the edge of muscle running from her shoulder down her spine, hungry for the touch of her solid, sexy body. She pressed into her just a little, not caring they were standing in the middle of the drive. “I’m still waiting for the wild part.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Abby was about to invite her to get as wild as she wanted when Harper yelled down, “Hey, Flann, you gonna work today or what?”

Flann sighed. “You’re not going anywhere, are you?”

“No,” Abby said, meaning it. “I’m second call, so as long as it stays quiet, I’ll be here.”

“Good. I’ll find you.” Flann turned as if to go, turned quickly back, and kissed her. “I’m feeling a lot more than a little wild.”

Abby laughed and gave her a push. “Don’t be thinking about anything except what you’re doing out there.”

“Promise.”

“Thank you.” Abby grabbed her hand. “Would you keep an eye on Blake for me?”

“Of course. You never have to worry about that.” Flann ran a finger along the angle of Abby’s jaw. “I want to kiss you but if I do, I’ll never get to work.”

“Go,” Abby said, already so aroused she ached. “I’ll see you in a little while.”

Flann jogged away and Abby slowly followed, giving her body a chance to calm down while enjoying the view of Flann from the back. She had a great ass. Finally she rounded the corner to the back porch, which, along with the kitchen, she’d quickly come to realize was the center of all activity.

Carson occupied one of the rocking chairs with a cup of coffee and an amazing-looking biscuit balanced on a plate on her knee. The scent of something marvelous—yeasty and sweet—emanated from the kitchen on a wave of strong coffee fumes.

Abby’s mouth instantly watered. “What is it?”

“Buttermilk biscuits with fresh blueberries. Lila and Mama are making breakfast.”

Abby tried not to moan on her way inside. Carrie and Presley were filling their coffee cups from an industrial-sized coffee urn. The table was laden with baskets of biscuits, slabs of butter, syrup, and fruit. A few dozen plates and piles of silverware filled one end.

“Oh my God, this is heaven,” Abby murmured.

Ida Rivers ladled mountains of scrambled eggs from a cast-iron skillet the size of a satellite dish onto a platter. She smiled at Abby over her shoulder. “I hope you came hungry.”

Abby blushed, instantly shy, a sensation she wasn’t usually prone to experiencing. But this was Flann’s mother, and a woman she greatly admired. And she’d just been hungering for her daughter. “Famished. Anything I can do?”

“Lila and I have the food situation under control. I understand Carrie is handling the important business of the morning.” Ida shook her head. “We could have used her when Carson got married. Harper and Flann were about as useful as tits on a bull as far as the planning end of things went.”

Abby’s mouth dropped and she couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Oh my God. I’m going to have a hard time getting that image out of my mind anytime I look at either of them.”

Ida smiled, set the eggs aside, and forked slices of ham onto another platter. “Well, we all have our strengths.”

“Flannery certainly does,” Abby said quietly.

Ida nodded and continued spearing ham with a practiced flip of her wrist. “She does, but she’s never been willing to see it.”

“She just needs to slow down long enough to notice.”

“You seem to have noticed, though,” Ida said.

“It’s not hard to see, when you look. She’s wonderful.” Abby paused. “She’s kind and brave and tender.”

Ida handed her the platter of eggs. “I’m glad you know that. Put this on the table for me?”

“Of course.”

“And don’t let her fool you,” Ida said conversationally as she deposited the ham beside the biscuits. “She’s just been waiting for someone to catch her. Even if she doesn’t know it.”

“This looks delicious,” Abby said. “And I’ll remember that.”

Ida hummed and went back to laying out bacon into a skillet.

Flann wasn’t the only one who’d been running. Abby’d been running from her own needs in the race to take care of everyone else’s for fifteen years. But she’d stopped running now, and the thought wasn’t the least bit scary.

Now she had all the time in the world. She grabbed her coffee, piled more food than she usually ate in three meals onto a white porcelain plate, and traipsed out to the porch to join the others. She took the last rocker. “Okay, what’s the plan?”

Carrie flipped open a loose-leaf binder that was sectioned with colored tabs and turned to the first section. “Okay—location and setup.” She pointed a matching colored pencil at Carson. “Since you know the homestead and the local vendors, you’re in charge of that. Tents, tables, chair rental, all that kind of thing. Okay?”

“Got it,” Carson said. “We can just use the same people we did for my wedding. In fact, I still have the old lists.” She rummaged in a voluminous bag at her side and pulled out a stack of spreadsheets. “It’s been a few years, but it’s a starting place.”

Carrie waggled her fingers. “Gimme.”

For the next two hours, they divided up phone calls to vendors, discussed floral arrangements, menus, musicians, guest lists, childcare facilities, and the need for Porta-Potties versus comfort vans, all the time accompanied by a cacophony of power tools, pounding, shouts, and laughter coming from the direction of the barn. Men, women, girls, and boys drifted in and out of the kitchen, filling plates, and discussing weather, crops, sports, and opinions on the latest books and movies. Blake and Margie rushed in with a scrum of teens who acted as if they hadn’t seen food in a millennium. Abby noted Blake’s jubilant expression and avoided embarrassing him by calling out hello.

By midday, the skeleton of the damaged portion of the barn had been erected and people swarmed over the roof, laying down new slate and tin. Abby kept an eye out for Flann but couldn’t find her until almost one when Flann walked over to an outdoor hose across the yard, turned it on, and doused her head and shoulders with water. Her wet T-shirt clung to her torso as she shook her head vigorously like a dog coming out of the lake after a particularly wonderful swim. When she brushed both hands through her soaked hair, she glanced at the back porch, caught Abby watching, and sent her an if-you-like-it-come-and-get-it smirk. Abby’s mouth went dry.

She was about to take Flann up on her obvious invitation when a woman cut across Abby’s line of sight, moving like an arrow with Flann as her target. The svelte blonde sauntered as if on a New York runway and looked distinctly out of place among the cotton and denim crowd. Her jade capri pants and sleeveless raw silk shirt clung to her in a way that accentuated the curve of her shapely hips and full breasts. Her high-heeled sandals were definitely not meant for tramping around the barnyard.

“Who’s that?” Abby said, hearing the edge in her voice and not caring.

“Oh,” Carson said, “that’s Dr. Love.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Sydney Valentine. She’s a local vet. She got the nickname in high school, because—well, because all the boys and quite a few of the girls wanted to sleep with her, and the rest of us just wanted to be her.” Carson smiled wryly. “You know the type? Top of the class, captain of the tennis team, homecoming queen—everything every girl wanted to be. She broke the hearts of half the football team when she wouldn’t sleep with any of them and ran through most of the interested girls like a threshing machine too.”

“I’m assuming Flannery was one of them,” Abby said, the desire to grab the blonde by her elegant neck and drag her away from Flann making her palms itch. She’d never had a physically violent thought in her life but decided she’d worry about what it meant later. When the vet put her hand on Flann’s upper arm, Abby rose. “Excuse me.”