Page 9 of Killer on the Homestead
“Why don’t you go on over to the Young house. Take this over. That Audra runs herself ragged. It’s always my pleasure when I can send some extras her way.”
Mom had already packed up a bag of their dinner leftovers—leftovers they only had because Mom no doubt had made enough to ensure there was food left to take to the Youngs. She shoved it at him. He grabbed it with one arm, his other arm throbbing. He considered using it as an excuse, but before he could, Mom looked at his sling. Considered.
“Well, I suppose I can do it. I’m supposed to lead the church meeting tonight, but…”
“I’ll do it,” he grumbled, not letting her take the bag back.
“Only if you’re sure you’re up to it. I’m sure driving with the sling isn’t comfortable and—”
“It’s fine.”
“That’s my boy.” She patted his cheek. “I’m going to go wash up. You run that out to them before they eat.”
He knew he’d been maneuvered when she bounced off like she’d never had a care in the world about his arm. He was going to have to relearn how to fend off his mother’s machinations.
But for this evening, he took his punishment and the food and drove the access road from the Kirk house to the Young house, cursing his shoulder every time he hit a bump, or when he had to get out and open and close the gate.
It hurt like hell, but at the same time it felt better than those first few weeks when he’d just been moping around his place in LA. Something about fresh air, sunlight, and mountains, maybe.
Or maybe it was just being home.
He drove onto the gravel lane that wound up to the Young place. Unlike his childhood home, their house looked exactly as he remembered it. A little on the small side, with a big rambling porch. Mountains rose up in the distance, like guarding sentries looming over everything.
Two redheads sat on the porch swing, heads bent together. One—Audra, he was guessing—had her legs crossed and was sitting upright. The other—Rosalie, definitely—was lounging, using her bare foot, which was on the porch railing, to move the swing back and forth.
They watched as his truck approached, then him. Rosalie was drinking a beer out of a bottle, and Audra had a glass of something. They didn’t look a heck of a lot alike, except for their coloring. Both were redheads, though Audra’s ran closer to brown. Both had those too-blue eyes, though Audra’s were smaller and closer set than Rosalie’s. Audra was tall and willowy, he noted as she got to her feet.
Then swatted her sister when she didn’t do the same.
“It’s good to see you again, Duncan,” she offered politely, as she walked over to the top of the stairs. Rosalie stayed on the swing and said nothing.
“You too, Audra.” He held up the bag. “Hope you guys didn’t eat yet. Mom sent me over with leftovers.”
“ThankGod,” Rosalie said under her breath, earning her a scolding look from Audra.
“Youcould learn to cook,” Audra said to her sister as she took the bag from Duncan.
“Can’t. No patience,” Rosalie replied, and it was clearly an old argument without much heat. But she flashed a grin at Duncan as she said it that made a disconcerting bolt of lust go through him.
Disconcerting because her sister was right there, and because she was connected to his family in a weird kind of way. And with the cow-investigation thing, it certainly wasn’t smart to be distracted by a quick smile and pretty eyes.
But even with those alarm bells ringing, it was kind of a relief, because it had been a long time since anything—including a woman—had distracted him from his laser-beam focus.
“Thank your mom for me, Duncan,” Audra said. “We really do appreciate everything she does for us.”
“She likes it, or she wouldn’t do it, but I’ll tell her.”
“I’ll just go put this away. And I’ll warn you to run out of here rather than spend even a second in small talk with my feral hog of a sister.”
“Hog?”Rosalie huffed. “Rude.”
Audra just smirked and went inside. He watched her go, noting more differences in the sisters. Audra didn’t have that…swaggerRosalie wore like a second skin.
Rosalie cleared her throat, and he turned his attention to her, but she didn’t say anything. So he did.
“Y’all should have a guard dog.”
“Franny’s allergic.”
