“You really don’t want to know?” James asked.
“Let me have a bracing sip of my coffee, first,” Adam said. He did just that and closed his eyes to savor the moment. At home, finally, and with his wife sleeping upstairs and his brother by his side.
He opened his eyes and nodded.
“While the old men were putting us through the mill, what do you suppose Mother and Grandmother were talking to Pamela about?”
Adam had of course heard the expression, “my heart skipped a beat,” but until that very moment, he’d never experienced it.
“Good God, Jamie. That is a truly horrific thought!”
“And probably not one we need to worry about. Right?”
“Why are you asking me? It was your horrific thought.”
“You’re right, it was.” Jamie sipped his coffee, his eyes closed, and Adam sensed he was seeking out all the little bits of logic that seemed to have escaped him in the last few minutes. I really wish he’d kept that horrific thought to himself, because I didn’t need to have it lurking around in my brain, swimming about like a specimen in a Petri dish.
“All right, I have it. If such a discussion had taken place, I’m quite certain that the ladies in question—our mother and grandmother—would have given us The Eye as we came into the dining room, bearing coffee. But I didn’t notice any such look, or demeanor, from either of them.”
“Of course, I’m not certain we would have, because we were completely focused on our Pamela. Hell, I can’t even tell you what brooch mother was wearing last night.”
“Me, neither.” James sighed.
They’d always paid attention to their mother’s brooches because sometimes she used them to send messages.
“Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to forget all about your horrific thought and simply carry on as normal—or as normal as we’re capable of being. We’ll forget all about it.”
The sound of a footfall on the steps drew Adam’s attention away from the conversation and focused it on the kitchen doorway. Moments later Pamela appeared, looking delicious, sleep-rumpled, and infinitely cuddly. Her short blue robe, belted at the middle, teased him as he wondered if she had anything on under it. Put away your inner horndog, oh greedy one.
“Good morning, baby.” Adam stood and held out his arms. She walked to him, wrapped her own arms around him, and laid her head on his chest. Not the actions of a woman who was annoyed with him. When she looked up at him, he kissed her, a sweet, wooing kiss. Then he released her to James, who received the same good-morning greeting.
“We’ve fresh banana bread from Aunt Miranda,” James said, “and fresh chopped apples and coffee for breakfast.”
“I was going to make the two of you breakfast.” Pamela’s smile made Adam feel ten feet tall. As long as they had this woman in their home, nothing else really mattered.
“Maybe tomorrow,” Adam said. “We wanted to treat you today—and sadly, neither of us have ever gotten the hang of cooking.”
“You’re spoiling me again.”
“Guilty.”
“Then I’ll have to spoil you both right back. And I will, just as soon as I find that grocery store and stock up.”
“That sounds like a plan,” James said.
Adam saw their woman seated and poured her a cup of coffee. Everything was going to be all right, because he refused to even consider the alternative.
Chapter Nine
Pamela realized, as they set out for the grocery store in town, that she hadn’t really seen much of Lusty the day before. Along with the grocery, there was a pharmacy, a hardware store, and a dry cleaner’s. She saw the sheriff’s office and a sign that read “Wendy’s Western Wear.”
Adam had nodded toward that store. “Wendy’s thinking of retiring, but her daughter might take over. Pru will likely leave the name as it is, for now.” Adam met her gaze. “People like continuity—even here in Lusty.”
The grocery store in town was a size she’d expect to find in a small town. There was a good variety of packaged goods and some fresh fruit and veggies. Milk and eggs, and some packaged meat, along with a couple of freezer units—one with veggies, meat, and side dishes and the other for ice cream and other frozen desserts.
Pamela was able to fill most of her grocery list.
“Let’s head into Gatesville,” James suggested.
Adam nodded. “It’ll let you see where things are.” Then he handed her the keys. So Pamela drove Adam’s Cadillac, a very nice, brand-new car.
“How is it you have a 1975 Caddy when you’ve been in Maryland for two years?”
Adam grinned. “The folks knew we were coming home, so they saw to it for us.”
“We both have new vehicles, and yes, we did pay for them ourselves.”
Pamela just shook her head. She kept forgetting that her husbands were very well off. She set that thought aside and focused instead on the car she was driving.
It was good to be behind the wheel, and the car handled beautifully. Adam insisted she use the car until he and James bought her a car of her own.
She didn’t think the stubborn men had listened at all to her perfectly logical argument that she didn’t need a new car of her own.
Pamela had made a partial grocery list, though she’d teased the men she could have made a one-word list, just by writing the word “everything” on the sheet of paper.
They didn’t, of course, have the basics—flour, butter, and spices. There was no baking powder or soda on their shelves, but there had been salt. In fact, there was a lot of salt, and she thought that might be a clue. Along with the salt and black pepper, she’d found one other “shaker.” She sniffed it and felt her eyes begin to water.
“That’s chili peppers,” James had said. “Mother grows her own and dries them then grinds them up.” His grin told her he loved the spice.
“I think cooking for the two of you is going to involve a learning curve for me.”
