than joining his brothers on the cattle drive to Dodge. The brothers wouldn’t be gone long, only a few weeks, but Rory didn’t feel it was safe for Abigail to be alone even that length of time.
“You’ve been assigned to stand guard,” he whispered, “make sure no one adds anything else, haven’t you?”
His teasing grin was almost her breaking point. He knew the townsfolk well. The women who insisted someone was in charge of just such a thing and the men who continuously tried to catch the punch bowl unattended. She knew the townsfolk, and she knew him. As well as his past, something no one dared mention, and his egg-stealing charm wouldn’t work on her.
“Thank you,” Rory said after she’d emptied the last jar he’d handed her, “for all of your help, but I’m fine by myself. You can leave now.” Becoming more nervous by the second, afraid he wouldn’t leave, she filled a cup and handed it to him. “Here, take this to your mother. I’m sure she’s thirsty.”
His gaze lingered on the cup before coming up to meet hers, at which point her hand started to shake. He took the cup and skirted his way around the table. Rory wanted to collapse at his departure. If only her past had remained buried on the other side of the state line.
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