seems ... I don’t know ... to be hiding somehow.” Compassion rippled through her. “He’s keeping to himself as if he only wants to be alone right now.”
“What do you mean?”
Apparently Cindy’s psychiatrist antennae had gone up.
“He’s hiding from something. I think he’s really hurting.”
“So why is a man any different from the animals you take in and repair?”
Luisa frowned. Her friend knew which buttons to push. “Cheap shot, Cindy. I guess that comes from being a shrink.”
“I know.” Her unapologetic laugh carried over the wire. “Hey, before I forget. You need to be careful out there.”
“You know I am.” Luisa had heard this before.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. But the ranch south of you experienced a home invasion a couple days ago.”
“Oh no! Were the Wilsons hurt?”
“Roughed up, but not bad. I saw them in the ER when I pulled duty the other night.”
“Thanks, Cindy. I’ll call them, but don’t worry here. Rooster gives me plenty of warning, and I still have a couple of Dad’s old shotguns around.”
“Just watch out. They think they may be drug runners or smugglers following the river.”
“Stop worrying, mom. Can I go now?”
Cindy laughed. “Okay, fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Now, start baking, girl. Talk to you soon. Bye.”
Luisa looked at the suddenly dead phone. “Fine,” she grumbled. “Just fine.” She hated it when Cindy was right. Courtesy dictated that she do something nice for Drake after all he’d done for her.
She hung up, her shoulders drooped, and she thought again about the pain that drove her neighbor to beat the fire out of pieces of metal all night instead of sleeping. Luisa had a feeling it was nightmares that came in the night. Ones so evil it terrified him to go to sleep until he was so exhausted they couldn’t come. She remembered those days well. Cindy had been the one standing beside her then, showing her unconditional love and support. Everyone deserves a friend, Luisa thought. With a shake of her head, she flicked on the coffeepot and reached for her cake flour.
An hour later, Luisa pushed damp tendrils away from her face and fanned her bangs to dry them. Her teal shirt clung to the curves of her sweat-soaked body. In her haste, she’d forgotten her number one cooking rule--never use the oven in the middle of an Arizona afternoon unless it was winter. It was easily 95 outside and the parted, yellow daisy curtains failed to let in enough breeze to move the stifling air in the kitchen.
She turned the fresh cake out of its pan and set it on the counter to cool. On her way down the long hall to the bathroom, she stopped for the thousandth time at her favorite photograph of her father. He stood beside his best horse, rope coiled in his hand. In the background were the weathered boards of a centuries-old holding pen. Inside, a Texas longhorn bull posed as though carved in granite, massive head held high. The grandson of this bull stood in a pen behind her horse barn and looked just like his grandfather. Some things go on, she thought, a soft smile curving her lips. With a sigh she moved on.
A glimpse in the bathroom mirror reflected heated cheeks and flattened hair. She looked longingly at the shower.
“Well, why not?” she asked her reflection. “You’re going to make a fool of yourself. May as well look your best.” A shower might revive her and her limp hair. She turned on the taps to heat the water just enough to take off the chill. Her teal shirt hit the floor.
What on earth was she doing? Going after a man like a desperate old maid. Cindy’s words came back to her. The man obviously needed help of some kind. Maybe just a friendly neighbor to talk to. Luisa could do that. She was a good listener. Besides, she owed him, didn’t she?
She stripped off the rest of her clothes and stepped under the spray wondering if he would trust her enough to open up.
Drake ... She had only seen him a few times since he’d
“What do you mean?”
Apparently Cindy’s psychiatrist antennae had gone up.
“He’s hiding from something. I think he’s really hurting.”
“So why is a man any different from the animals you take in and repair?”
Luisa frowned. Her friend knew which buttons to push. “Cheap shot, Cindy. I guess that comes from being a shrink.”
“I know.” Her unapologetic laugh carried over the wire. “Hey, before I forget. You need to be careful out there.”
“You know I am.” Luisa had heard this before.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. But the ranch south of you experienced a home invasion a couple days ago.”
“Oh no! Were the Wilsons hurt?”
“Roughed up, but not bad. I saw them in the ER when I pulled duty the other night.”
“Thanks, Cindy. I’ll call them, but don’t worry here. Rooster gives me plenty of warning, and I still have a couple of Dad’s old shotguns around.”
“Just watch out. They think they may be drug runners or smugglers following the river.”
“Stop worrying, mom. Can I go now?”
Cindy laughed. “Okay, fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Now, start baking, girl. Talk to you soon. Bye.”
Luisa looked at the suddenly dead phone. “Fine,” she grumbled. “Just fine.” She hated it when Cindy was right. Courtesy dictated that she do something nice for Drake after all he’d done for her.
She hung up, her shoulders drooped, and she thought again about the pain that drove her neighbor to beat the fire out of pieces of metal all night instead of sleeping. Luisa had a feeling it was nightmares that came in the night. Ones so evil it terrified him to go to sleep until he was so exhausted they couldn’t come. She remembered those days well. Cindy had been the one standing beside her then, showing her unconditional love and support. Everyone deserves a friend, Luisa thought. With a shake of her head, she flicked on the coffeepot and reached for her cake flour.
An hour later, Luisa pushed damp tendrils away from her face and fanned her bangs to dry them. Her teal shirt clung to the curves of her sweat-soaked body. In her haste, she’d forgotten her number one cooking rule--never use the oven in the middle of an Arizona afternoon unless it was winter. It was easily 95 outside and the parted, yellow daisy curtains failed to let in enough breeze to move the stifling air in the kitchen.
She turned the fresh cake out of its pan and set it on the counter to cool. On her way down the long hall to the bathroom, she stopped for the thousandth time at her favorite photograph of her father. He stood beside his best horse, rope coiled in his hand. In the background were the weathered boards of a centuries-old holding pen. Inside, a Texas longhorn bull posed as though carved in granite, massive head held high. The grandson of this bull stood in a pen behind her horse barn and looked just like his grandfather. Some things go on, she thought, a soft smile curving her lips. With a sigh she moved on.
A glimpse in the bathroom mirror reflected heated cheeks and flattened hair. She looked longingly at the shower.
“Well, why not?” she asked her reflection. “You’re going to make a fool of yourself. May as well look your best.” A shower might revive her and her limp hair. She turned on the taps to heat the water just enough to take off the chill. Her teal shirt hit the floor.
What on earth was she doing? Going after a man like a desperate old maid. Cindy’s words came back to her. The man obviously needed help of some kind. Maybe just a friendly neighbor to talk to. Luisa could do that. She was a good listener. Besides, she owed him, didn’t she?
She stripped off the rest of her clothes and stepped under the spray wondering if he would trust her enough to open up.
Drake ... She had only seen him a few times since he’d
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