With one last, cautious glance into the rearview mirror, Abbey turned onto the long, winding drive to home, feeling none of the usual pleasure at the moonlit rows of apple trees rolling past her windows. Excessive caffeine and a simmering temper were the only things keeping profound exhaustion at bay. Her quiet, simple life was over, and it was all Kyle’s fault.
Pulling up to the house, she started to go inside in search of her quarry, but the echo of male laughter on the wind had her turning toward the barn. The ancient pickup truck was parked beneath the floodlight outside, hood up. She’d driven right by them. The full head of steam she had yet to vent was apparently making her blind.
Abbey stalked over, relieved to see that at least Granddaddy sat in a lawn chair, his foot propped on
