Page 10 of No More Secrets
“You’ll get over it.” Carter tossed him another piece of bread.
A knock at the side door caught their attention. The three Pierces shouted a welcome, and the door swung open.
“Joey, how many times do I have to tell you that you don’t have to knock?” Carter reminded her.
––––––––
The woman who let the screen door slam behind her had the height and strut of a runway model. “Unlike you gentlemen, I wasn’t raised in a barn. Besides, I don’t want to give any of you the idea you can burst into my house any time you want,” she said, in a voice as husky as a jazz singer.
She strolled in, navy riding breeches and tall boots accentuating legs that went on for days. Her long sleeve polo was untucked and her chestnut hair was pulled back in a low, sleek ponytail. Summer felt like she was looking at a Ralph Lauren Polo ad come to life.
“You wouldn’t have let them in the house either, if you were their mother,” Phoebe joked from the stove.
“You just come from the barn?” Carter asked, seemingly oblivious to the fact that a beautiful woman had just entered his house.
“Yeah. I stayed after the lessons to check on Gonzo. He was favoring his front leg today and I wanted to make sure it wasn’t anything serious. He’s fine. Just being a baby.”
Joey worked her way through the greetings. A kiss on the cheek for Carter and Beckett and a tight hug for Phoebe.
“Joey, this is Summer. She’s writing the article on the farm. Joey is our on-site horse whisperer,” Carter said.
Summer offered her hand and they shook.
Joey’s brown eyes coolly measured. “Hi.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Summer said, hoping a friendly smile would disarm her.
Joey dropped her hand and shifted her attention to Phoebe. “Thanks for having me to dinner.”
Not a warm and fuzzy kind of girl. Summer could respect that.
“Anytime, sweetheart. You’re always welcome to help me even out the testosterone,” Phoebe chuckled, her glasses steaming from the contents of the pot.
Joey dumped a worn tote on the counter and Beckett dove for it. “Please tell me you brought dessert. Apple crisp?” he asked hopefully.
“Peanut butter pie,” she corrected.
“Are those crumbled up peanut butter cups on top?”
“Of course.”
“When are you going to give up spending all your time with horses so you can marry me and make me desserts every day?” Beckett sighed.
Joey rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “Keep dreaming, Mr. Mayor. I have no desire to be first lady of Blue Moon.”
“You’re the mayor?” Summer asked, eyebrows raised. That was an interesting tidbit. Beckett had to be a year or two younger than Carter’s thirty years.
“Mayor and an attorney. You couldn’t tell from the bullshit that spills out of his mouth?” Carter smirked.
“Carter Pierce, you watch your damn mouth,” Phoebe warned, brandishing salad tongs.
“Yes, ma’am,” Carter answered contritely.
Beckett flipped him the bird and quickly ran his hand through his thick, dark hair when Phoebe set her sights on him.
“Put that finger away before I break it, Beckett,” she ordered.
“Yes, ma’am.” He turned back to Summer. “I am the mayor, two years into my term.”
