Fortune's Prince. Allison Leigh
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I believe.” Because she always felt better being busy, she pulled a few peaches out of the basket on the counter and grabbed a knife. She’d already made a chocolate cake for dessert for that evening, but Deke always loved a fresh peach pie. And even after forty years of marriage, a man still needed to know he was in the forefront of his wife’s thoughts. “Do you think she should stay somewhere else?”
He frowned quickly. “No. She’s family.” His eyes met hers. “I get it, Jeanne Marie.”
Her faint tension eased. He might not exactly understand the way she’d taken on the Fortune name, but he did get “it” when it came to family. Nothing was more important to him, even if he didn’t always have an easy time showing it.
“She’d been at Quinn Drummond’s,” she added. Then told him everything that had happened since Amelia had called. She pointed the tip of the paring knife she was using to peel the peaches at Deke. “I don’t care what everyone’s saying about her and that Banning fella.” She deftly removed the peach pit and sliced the ripe fruit into a bowl. “There’s definitely something going on between her and Quinn.”
“I’d think Quinn’s too set in his ways to be interested in a highbred filly like Amelia.” Deke reached past her to filch a juicy slice. “’Specially after the merry chase that ex-wife of his led him on. She was a piece of work, remember?”
She did and she made a face. “That was years ago.”
“Yup. Having your wife leave you for her old boyfriend leaves a stain, though. Least I think it would. Now he’s interested in a girl the world thinks is engaged?” He stole another slice, avoiding the hand she batted at him.
“You keep eating the slices, I won’t have enough left to make a pie for you,” she warned.
His teeth flashed, his good humor evidently restored. He popped the morsel in his mouth and gave her a smacking kiss that tasted of him and sweet, sweet summer. It melted her heart as surely now as it had the first time he’d kissed her when they were little more than kids.
Then he grabbed his hat and plopped it on his head again. “I’ll stop at the fruit stand on my way back from Vicker’s Corners,” he said, giving her a quick wink. “Replenish the stock.” He started to push open the back screen door.
“Deke—”
He hesitated.
“You’re the love of my life, you know.”
His smile was slow and sweeter than the peaches. “And you’re mine. That’s what gets me up in the morning every day, darlin’.”
Then he pushed through the screen door. It squeaked slightly, and shut with a soft slap.
Jeanne Marie pressed her hand to her chest for a moment. “Oh, my.” She blew out a breath and laughed slightly at the silliness of a woman who ought to be too old for such romantic swooning.
Then she looked up at the ceiling, thinking about her young niece. Amelia was running away from something, or running to something. And she needed to figure out which it was.
Jeanne Marie was just glad that she was there to provide a resting place. And that she had a man of her own who could understand why.
* * *
Quinn had no intention of going by Jeanne Marie and Deke’s place later that evening. But he ran into Deke at the tractor supply in Vicker’s Corners before the baseball game and the man—typically short on words and long on hard work and honor—asked after Quinn’s mom. That brief exchange of pleasantries had somehow led to Deke casually tossing out an invitation to come by for supper.
“Havin’ a cookout,” Deke had said. “All the kids’re coming. And you know how Jeanne Marie always cooks more’n we need.”
Quinn had wondered then if it was possible that Deke didn’t know his wife’s new niece was there. And then he had wondered if it was possible that Jeanne’s new niece wasn’t there.
Which had led to him poking at that thought all through the ball game, same way a tongue poked at a sore tooth, even though it hurt.
He ought to have just asked Deke.
Instead, here he was at six o’clock in the evening, standing there staring at the front of Jeanne and Deke’s place.
He could smell grilling beef on the air and hear the high-pitched squeal of a baby laughing. Ordinarily, the smell of a steak getting seared really well would have been enough to get his boots moving. He didn’t even mind the babies or the kids much. He’d had plenty of practice with Jess’s batch, since she popped one out every couple of years.
His reluctance to join them now annoyed him. He’d had plenty of meals at the Jones’s place over the years. He’d been in school with the older ones and counted them as friends. He’d danced at Toby’s wedding. With Amelia. Right here, in fact, because Toby and Angie had been married out in back of the house.
Quinn hadn’t been back since.
Muttering an oath, he grabbed the short-haired wig, slammed the truck door and headed around the side of the house. He knew they’d all be out back again and he was right.
This time, though, instead of rows of chairs lined up like white soldiers across the green grass and a bunch of cloth-covered tables with pretty flowers sitting on top arranged around the space, there were a couple of picnic tables covered with plastic checked tablecloths, a bunch of lawn chairs and a game of croquet in the works.
He spotted Amelia immediately and even though he wanted to pretend he hadn’t been concerned about whether she had or had not sought haven with her aunt, the knot inside him eased.
She was off to one side of the grassy backyard where Toby’s three kids were playing croquet, and talking with Stacey, Jeanne’s and Deke’s second youngest. The two females were about the same age and the same height, but Stacey was as sunny and blonde as Amelia was moonlight and brunette.
Both women were engaged, too, he thought darkly, though only one of those engagements caused him any amount of pleasure. He was just a little surprised that Colton Foster, who was Stacey’s fiancé, hadn’t gotten her to the altar already. As he watched, Amelia leaned over and rubbed her nose against Piper’s, Stacey’s year-old daughter, who was propped on her mama’s hip.
He looked away and aimed toward Deke where he and Liam were manning the grill. “Smells good,” he greeted. “Would only smell better if that was Rocking-U beef.”
Liam snorted good-naturedly. Horseback Hollow was dotted with small cattle ranches and all of them were more supportive than competitive with each other. “You got yourself a new pet there? Looks like a rat.”
Quinn wished he’d have left the wig in the truck. He’d only thought as far as returning it to its owner so he wouldn’t have the reminder around. He hadn’t thought about the questions that doing so would invite. “It’s a wig. Thought maybe one of Toby’s kids might want to keep it around for Halloween or something.” The excuse was thin and he knew it. “My sister’s kids outgrew it, I guess,” he improvised and felt stupid even as he did. He’d never developed a taste for lying. Anyone who knew Jess’s brood would also know the five boys were hellions who wouldn’t be caught dead wearing a wig.
Liam was eying him oddly, too. “Whatever, man.” He grabbed a beer from an ice-filled barrel and tossed it to him. “Crack that open and get started. Maybe it’ll soften you up before we get to dickering over that bull of yours I want to buy.”
Despite everything, Quinn smiled. He tossed the wig on one of the picnic benches nearby. “Rocky’s not for sale, my friend.”
“Even if I paid you twice what he’s worth?”
They’d had this debate many times. Quinn knew Liam wouldn’t overpay and Liam knew Quinn wasn’t selling, anyway. “That bull’s semen’s worth gold to me.”
“Oh.” The word was faint, brief