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“It’s a lot like mine.”
“Really?”
“Mine looks sturdier, maybe. Not decorated as fancy. But they’re similar. Large rooms. Lots of windows.” She felt she had recovered enough to move. Upon seeing him, her one good knee, which she relied on for support, had threatened to buckle beneath her. Now, she felt confident enough to move forward and indicated for him to follow her. “Come on in. Would you like something to drink?”
“Something soft.”
“Lemonade?”
“Fine.”
“It’ll only take a minute to make.”
“Don’t bother.”
“No bother. I was thirsty for some anyway.”
She maneuvered herself through the dining room and into the kitchen at the back of the house. He followed. “Sit down.” She nodded toward the butcher-block table that formed an island in the center of the kitchen and moved toward the refrigerator.
“Can I help?” he asked.
“No
thanks. I’ve had practice.”
She turned her head, ready with a smile, and caught him staring at the backs of her legs. Thinking that she was going to be alone all day, she’d dressed in a ragged pair of cutoffs and hadn’t bothered with shoes. The tails of a chambray shirt were knotted at her waist. She’d pulled her hair up into a high, scraggly ponytail. The effect was a Beverly Hills version of Daisy Mae.
Caught staring at her smooth, bare legs, Cooper shifted guiltily in his chair. “Does it hurt?”
“What?”
“Your leg.”
“Oh. No. Well, some. Off and on. I’m not supposed to walk or drive or anything like that yet.”
“Have you gone back to work?”
Her ponytail swished against her neck as she shook her head. “I’m conducting some business here by telephone. The messenger services love me. I’ve kept them busy. But I haven’t quite felt up to dressing and going to the office.”
She took a can of lemonade concentrate out of the refrigerator where she’d had it thawing. “Have you been busy since you got home?”
She poured the thick pink concentrate into a pitcher and added a bottle of chilled club soda. When some of it splashed on the back of her hand, she raised it to her mouth and sucked it off. That’s when she turned with the question still in her eyes.
Like a hawk, Cooper was watching every move. He was staring at her mouth. Slowly, she lowered her hand and turned back to her task. Her hands were trembling as she took glasses down out of the cabinet and filled them with ice cubes.
“Yeah, I’ve been busy.”
“How was everything when you got back?”
“Okay. A neighbor had been feeding my livestock. Guess he would have gone on doing that indefinitely if I’d never turned up.”
“That’s a good neighbor.” She had wanted to inject some levity into the conversation, but her voice sounded bright and brittle. It didn’t fit the atmosphere, which was as heavy and oppressive as a New Orleans summer. The air was sultry; she couldn’t draw enough of it into her lungs.
“Don’t you have any help running your ranch?” she asked.
“Off and on. Temporary hands. Most of them are ski bums who only work to support their habit. When they run out of money they work a few days so they can buy lift tickets and food. The system works for both them and me.”
“Because you don’t like a lot of people around.”
