2. Prescription For Love

Flann wasn’t even sure she could walk. Her thighs were loose with desire while other parts of her were tight and swollen and hot. Somehow she had to get through dinner without looking like she wanted to jump on Abby, which she didn’t want to do—yet. But damn, it was hard to hold back. She’d never been obsessed with wanting a woman before. Oh sure, maybe when she was thirteen or fourteen and every girl was an object of endless, sleepless fascination, but that was more about wanting sex than wanting sex with somebody. After that insanity had passed, no woman had occupied her thoughts the way Abby did. No one fired her imagination or made her want things she’d sworn she’d never want. Not just kisses, not just being naked with her, not just making love to her until she screamed, which she wanted as much as she wanted her next breath, but more. She wanted more—she wanted the welcome in Abby’s eyes when she walked into a room, she wanted to hear Abby’s laugh when she teased her, she wanted to confess her sins and know Abby would help her to forgive herself. She wanted Abby’s light in the dark night of her world.

Abby stood on the porch looking back at her, a question in her eyes. “You can’t get out of it now.”

“Don’t want to,” Flann yelled, and she knew in her heart she meant it. She jumped out of the Jeep and jogged up the flagstone path.

“Take it easy with that leg,” Abby said.

“I’m good. Great.” Flann stood a step below her looking up. “I had a fabulous day.” Abby held her gaze and slowly leaned down. Her kiss lingered, questing, a gentle demand.

Flann groaned. And then Abby was gone.

“How about I open that red,” Abby said with a teasing smile from the doorway.

“Sure.” Flann’s voice was sandpaper rough. “Great. Grill’s on the porch.”

Flann followed through the neat open-concept living room-kitchen area and out the back door.

Margie and Blake sat on the porch steps with lemonade and a box of cold pizza between them.

“Don’t eat too much of that,” Flann said, “I’m cooking.”

Margie craned her neck and looked up at her. “You are? Awesome.”

Blake closed the box. “Breakfast.”

Grinning, Flann said, “You two want to help me muscle this grill off the porch so I can get it started?”

Both teens jumped up. Margie and Blake grabbed one end and the three of them hoisted the grill down to the grass. Flann rocked the tank to be sure it had enough gas to get them through dinner and started up the grill. A breeze blew up from the river and cooled the sweat on the back of her neck. The sun was an hour away from dropping behind the hills on the other side of the valley. Beautiful night. Incredible day. Flann couldn’t remember being so relaxed or so bone-deep content in her life. Abby came to the back door. “Blake, Margie. Want to give me a hand cutting vegetables?” “Sure.”

“Okay.”

Flann watched Blake and Margie troop inside, thinking they seemed at once young and a whole lot more mature than she’d been at their age. She wondered what was going on between the two of them, but didn’t see as it was really any of her business. And whatever it was, she trusted them not to hurt each other.

A few minutes later, Abby came out with the steaks on a platter and a tray of sliced vegetables.

“Salad’s done. I think we’re ready for you.”

“Good.” Flann checked the back porch and couldn’t see either of the kids inside. Abby’s hands were full. Perfect opportunity. She slid her hand behind Abby’s neck and kissed her. Abby gave a little moue of surprise and then kissed her back, meeting Flann’s subtle demand with some of her own. Flann felt a tiny nip on her lower lip before Abby pulled away. The kiss was even more satisfying for its briefness, a teasing hint of all to come when they were alone. Flann drew back, surprised at how short her breath had gotten, how fast her pulse. “I’ll put those vegetables on now.”

Abby stared, her gaze holding Flann’s as she held out the tray. “Good idea.”

Grinning, Flann laid out the vegetables, put on the steaks, and checked her watch. Five minutes later, Abby returned with two glasses of the red and handed her one. “How are they coming?” “Everything looks good. Do you want to eat out on the porch?”

“There’s no table.”

“Doesn’t matter. We can sit on the steps. It’s a beautiful night and the sun will set right across the river in not too long.”

“It sounds perfect,” Abby said.

And it was. The four of them spread out on the porch steps and ate with their plates balanced on their knees, Margie and Blake regaling them with tales of the chicks and Rooster.

“He knows they’re in the pen,” Margie said. “He doesn’t go very far away like he used to. He just scratches around in a big circle and every once in a while he hops over and tries to look inside.” “He’s claimed them already,” Blake said.

“You’ll have to wait until they’re about three months old to let them out,” Flann said. “He’ll want to make sure they know they belong to him when they start free ranging.”

“Once the barn is rebuilt, we can get them in the coop, right?” Blake said.