2. Prescription For Love

good. Hell, if either of them should have reason to run, it was her. She’d been so busy reassuring Abby Blake would be in good hands, she’d forgotten all about charming her. A conversation without flirting was just not her style.

“I’ll see you at supper,” she called to Abby’s retreating form. Abby didn’t answer and Flann was left without a follow-up line. That never happened either. She hadn’t even thought to comment on how great Abby looked. Abby’s body did amazing things for simple shorts and cotton shirts, and the way her hair caught on the wind and tangled around her face made Flann think of how she’d look in bed, leaning over, face flushed

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Rein in your hormones.”

Ignoring the sudden burn low in her belly, she stomped back to join the others. Harp gave her a questioning look and a raised eyebrow. She shook her head. “All good.”

Flann welcomed the physical labor to keep her mind off Abby, who she didn’t want to be thinking about, and Carrie, who had neatly avoided the topic of a date the night before at the game. She’d be better off not thinking about women at all, although she doubted that was possible. She grabbed the nail gun and focused on pounding in nails.

They worked another hour, racking together the external enclosure, stapling up chicken wire, and making sure nothing could get in by digging under. Before they put up the final side, they dragged one of the old coops around from the far side of the barn, hoisted it up on a couple of cement blocks, replaced some broken boards, and covered the old shingled roof with a new square of tin. When they were done, it was waterproof and could house half a dozen chickens plus the damn rooster. They could close the doors up if they needed to or leave them open and let the chickens roam within their enclosure until they were freed in the morning.

“How come you don’t just close them in the coop at night?” Blake stuffed his work gloves in the back pocket of his jeans and drained a bottle of water. “Then you wouldn’t need the outside fence.”

“We could do that,” Flann said. “But then the rooster would start making a fuss at dawn wanting to get out and wake up the hens and everybody else within a mile. This way they’ve got a yard they can peck around in until we’re ready to let them free range. It’s safer for them and easier on us.”

“How come they don’t run away when you let them out?”

“Wait’ll you see how they get used to their routine.” Flann piled wood scraps on the ATV. “Get the hammer and nail gun for me, will you.”

Blake grabbed them and carried them over.

“They know where their roost is,” Flann said as she packed the rest of the tools. “When the sun goes down, they’ll start coming home. And once they get used to being fed in the morning, every time they see you they’ll come running.”

“When are we gonna go get the chicks?” Blake asked.

Flann looked at Harp. “What’s your timetable for the big surprise, boss?”

“I think Margie wants to be along when we pick them out.” Harp glanced at the sky and checked her watch. “Looks like the storm is going to hold off. We could go now and still make it back in time for dinner.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Flann noticed Blake perk up when Margie’s name was mentioned. The kid would probably like someone his own age to hang around with after spending the day with them.

“You want to go along, Blake?”

Blake looked from Harp to Flann, uncertainty and eagerness chasing each other across his face.

“Could I?”

“Sure, unless you want to stay here and hang out.”

Blake stared at Flann. “Is that a test?”

“Actually, no. Your mom and Presley and Carrie are pretty cool.”

“Yeah, they are,” Blake said. “But I’d rather help pick out chickens.”

Flann laughed. “Go tell your mom you’re coming with us, but wait—don’t tell her why.”

Glenn said, “I’ll hang up at the house. There’s not going to be enough room in the truck anyhow.”

“Oh,” Blake said, disappointment darkening his gaze. “I can stay here then.”

“Not a problem,” Glenn said. “Really, I’ve seen plenty of chickens.” Blake glanced at Flann eagerly. “Two minutes. I’ll meet you at the truck.” He took off running.

Flann laughed.

Harper said, “Nice kid.”

“Abby is pretty outstanding too.” Glenn shouldered the roll of chicken wire.

“Nothing not to like,” Flann grumbled.

“Nothing at all.” Glenn smiled faintly as if she were thinking about some secret memory. “Don’t be late. I can smell dinner from here.”

“Yeah. We’ll be back.” Flann’s shoulders tightened as she watched Glenn round the side of the barn. She was about as close to Glenn as she was to Harper. They didn’t have history as long or as deep, but she worked with Glenn almost every single day, depended on her to look after her patients, relied on her to cover for her when she couldn’t be available. She trusted her judgment, respected her professional skill, and knew without a doubt she could be trusted in every other way. But Glenn was a cipher too.