Black Hills
Page 119

“Did you leave anything for the rest of the state?”
“Not if we could help it. There. The rest is mine, all mine.” She turned, gave Lil a hug. “We don’t do this often enough.”
“I’d have to give myself a raise to do it more often.”
“You call me tomorrow.”
“I will.”
“Take care of my girl, Cooper.”
“Top of the list.”
Lil waved her off, watched the tailgate fade. “Is everything all right here?”
“Fine.”
“I should check, see if anyone left me any messages.”
“Matt and Lucius were still here when I got home. They said to tell you things ran okay without you. Even though you wouldn’t like to hear it.”
“Of course I like to hear it.”
“Then why are you frowning? I’m taking all this stuff inside.”
“I’m just not used to being away all day.” And now that she was back she wondered what had possessed her to suggest another day away.
“You were in Peru for six months.”
“That’s different. I don’t care if it’s illogical, it is different. I should do a circuit around the habitats.”
“I already did.” He dumped the bags at the base of the stairs. “Baby made do with me.”
“Oh. That’s good, too. I guess there’s no word on Ethan, or anything in that area.”
“I’d tell you if there were.” He leaned down, kissed her. “Why don’t you relax? Isn’t stripping stores of all their stock supposed to relax the female?”
“That’s very sexist, and mostly true. I’m starving.”
“I ate the leftovers.”
“I want a sandwich. A really big sandwich.”
“Then it’s a good thing I went shopping, too,” he said as he walked with her to the kitchen. “Because you were out of bread and anything-other than peanut butter-to put between it.”
“Oh. Well, thanks.” She opened the fridge, and stood staring with her eyes wide. “Wow. This is a lot of food.”
“Not if two people actually eat a couple of meals a day.”
With a shrug, she pulled out packs of deli meat. “We did fancy for lunch, which means you end up ordering salad. Fancy salads. I nearly ordered a Reuben, but somehow it felt wrong. Especially since we had champagne. I just don’t think you can have a Reuben and champagne at the same time.”
He sat on the bench, watched her. “You had a good time. It shows.”
“I did. It took me a while to change gears, get in the groove, whatever. But thankfully I did and will not be forced to wear puce and flounces at Tansy’s wedding.”
He cocked his head. “What is puce, anyway?”
“Every bridal attendant’s worst nightmare. Tansy got the most fabulous dress. A killer of a dress, which mine will complement perfectly. Then there were the shoes. Watching Lucy and my mother in the shoe department is an education and a thrill. I’m a rank amateur in comparison. Then there were handbags.”
She chattered about purses, then the flower shops, reliving little pieces of the day in the telling while she poured a glass of milk.
“We grazed through shops like a herd of starving deer. I think my credit card gasped weakly at the end of the day.” She brought the sandwich to the table, plopped down. “God, my feet!”
Even as she bit in, she toed off her shoes.
“It’s work, you know. The shopping safari. As physical as mucking out stalls.”
“Uh-huh.” He lifted her feet onto his lap, and began to rub, running his knuckles up her instep.
Lil felt her eyes roll back in her head. “Oh. This is probably what heaven’s like. A huge sandwich, a glass of cold milk, and a foot rub.”
“You’re a cheap date, Lil.”
She smiled and took another bite. “How much of my shopping adventures did you actually listen to?”
“I tuned out in the shoe department.”
“Just as I suspected. Lucky for you, you give a good foot rub.”
Later, when she hung her new dress in the closet, she thought it had been an exceptional day. Stress-free, once she’d put stress aside, and touched with moments of real joy and wonderful foolishness.
And her mother had been right, she realized as she heard Coop tune in for the baseball scores. It was nice to have someone who’d walk out on the porch to welcome her home.
28
Lil felt him touch her, just the lightest touch, a brush on her shoulder, down her arm. As if he reassured himself she was there before he got out of bed in the predawn dark.
She lay, wakeful now, in the warmth of the bed, the warmth he’d left for her, and listened to the sound of the shower. The hiss of water against tile and tub.
She considered getting up herself, putting on the coffee, getting a jump on the day. But there was something so comforting, so sweetly simple about staying just where she was and listening to the water run.
The pipes clanged once, and she smiled when she caught his muffled oath through the bathroom door. He tended to take long showers, long enough for the small hot water heater to protest.
He’d shave now-or not, depending on his mood. Brush his teeth with the towel slung around his hips and his hair still dripping. He’d rub the towel over it briefly, impatiently, maybe scoop his fingers through it a few times.
Oh, to have hair that didn’t require fuss or time. But in any case, vanity wasn’t part of his makeup. He’d already be thinking about what needed to be done that day, which chore to deal with first on the daily list of chores.
He’d taken on a lot, she mused. The farm, the business, and because of who and what he was, the responsibility of finding ways to keep his grandparents involved in the day-to-day while making sure they didn’t overdo.
Then he’d added her, she thought. Not trying just to win her back but also to help her deal with the very real threat to her and hers. That piled extra hours, extra worry, extra work into his day.
And he brought her flowers.
He came back into the bedroom, moving quietly. That, she knew was both an innate skill of his and basic consideration. He took some care not to wake her, dressing in the half-dark, leaving his boots off.
She could smell the soap and water on him, and found it another kind of comfort. Heard him ease a drawer open, ease it shut again.