2. Prescription For Love

“I’m not sure.” Abby pushed her hair off her neck in hopes the breeze would cool some of the heat in her face. “I’m serious about the lust, I mean. That’s very serious. Possibly terminal.” Presley choked on her laugh.

“But the rest of it, I’m a little afraid to think about. Sometimes it feels too—” “Big?” Presley finished.

“Yes.”

Presley nodded. “I know exactly what you mean. Wonderful and absolutely terrifying at the same time.”

“Yes.” Some of Abby’s uncertainty dissipated, knowing Presley understood. “Is that normal, do you think? Because I’m not usually reduced to words of one syllable just from looking at a woman.”

“I think so, when you love all the way.”

Love. Abby wasn’t sure. She understood love. She loved Blake with every atom of her being. She loved her mother. She loved her work. None of those things kept her awake at night or had her second-guessing every action. Only the fear of failing Blake frightened her, but not of loving him. Whatever she felt for Flann was different from all of those feelings. The want, the desire, the need left her open and vulnerable and raw. As if she might break. “I don’t know if I even want to know.” Presley squeezed her knee. “You’ll know when the time is right, and you’ll know what to do.” Abby hoped so.

*

At the beginning of the fifth inning, the right fielder, a nurse Abby recognized from the ICU, motioned to Flann, spoke to her for a minute, and then slumped on the bench. Flann grabbed her glove and ran out to right field.

“Looks like Flann is going to sub for Mary Ellen,” Presley said.

“Damn it,” Abby said. “She wasn’t going to play tonight.”

Carson must have heard her. “You didn’t really think so, did you? I gave her until the fourth inning.”

“If she breaks open that incision—”

“She’ll be careful,” Carson said. “She’s not nearly as wild as she looks.”

Abby wasn’t sure she agreed. She watched Flann field a ball on the run, her stomach a twisting mess. She couldn’t bear to see her hurt again.

When the team came up to bat, Flann of course took her turn. She laid a solid line drive to left field, and Harper scored. Flann made it to first, and Abby let out a breath. Flann signaled to her bench and a pinch runner came in to take her place. Flann threw Abby a cocky smile back to the sidelines as if to say, What, were you worried?

Abby just shook her head and Flann laughed. Oh, she was wild, all right. Wild and sexy and driving Abby crazy. When the game ended with a win for their team, Abby was a little disappointed the evening was almost over. She wasn’t usually a spectator, but she’d enjoyed the camaraderie of the cheering section, and she’d definitely loved watching Flann.

As Abby stood to make her way down the bleachers, Presley said, “Don’t forget Carrie’s planning a wedding summit tomorrow morning.” “I’ll be there,” Abby said.

“Carson?” Presley asked.

“Absolutely.” Carson hiked Davey onto her hip. “Bill is planning on helping with the barn raising too.”

“Good, I’ll see you both then.” Presley headed in the direction of the team and Harper.

Abby waved to Carson and met Blake and Margie on the field. “You two need a ride?”

“Yeah, but we’re gonna get hot dogs from the stand first,” Blake said. “You want one?”

“None for me. I’ll meet you at the car. I’m parked in the middle of the second row.”

“Okay. See you,” Blake called. He grabbed Margie’s hand and they disappeared into the crowd.

Abby walked behind the bleachers toward the parking lot. A hand snaked out, caught her wrist, and pulled her into the shade beneath the bleachers.

“Flann!” Abby laughed. “What are you doing?”

“Collecting my kiss.” Flann pulled her close with an arm around her waist and kissed her, a kiss that blanked her mind and flooded her body with fire. Flann’s kiss wasn’t the gentle brush of lips like the last time—more a promise then than a joining. Now her mouth was hot and hard and demanding.

Abby opened to her, taking her in, drinking her in. She drove her fingers into Flann’s hair and held her in place. She wanted more than a promise—she wanted an answer for the tension and wanting that had kept her awake all night. Flann slipped into her mouth and Abby moaned softly. Deeper—she wanted her deeper everywhere.

Flann tugged Abby’s shirt from her shorts and slid her hand onto her lower back, fingers spread, molding their bodies even closer together. “I missed you.”

Abby’s mind was a whirl of sensation, the scent of summer grass, the heat of summer sun, the taste of lust. “Oh God, Flann. We can’t do this under the bleachers.” “No one’s looking,” Flann growled.

“Not right this minute,” she gasped. “Mmm, you feel so good. I can’t stand it.”

“Good. I’ve been going crazy thinking about this.” Flann kissed her way down Abby’s throat. Her hand closed on Abby’s breast, and she moaned again. “You’re going to have to stand it for a while longer, because I want you. Abby, I want you.”