He smacked the wooden panel so hard the impact vibrated into his shoulder. Pivoting on his bare heel, he walked out onto the frigid tiles of the terrace and braced his hands on the railing, staring at the lights of the boats chugging across the harbor. It was too damn cold to be outside bare chested, but he welcomed the punishing slap of the frigid sea wind.

When had he become such an asshole?

Chapter 23

On Sunday morning, the sky outside the kitchen window still showed the glitter of stars as Miranda dropped into a painted wooden chair. She gulped down half a mug of coffee and groaned. Every muscle in her body ached with exhaustion after spending the evening tending to the cows, and last night tossing and turning.

She crossed her arms on the scarred tabletop and pillowed her head on them. Sleep had eluded her because she couldn’t stop thinking about her final evening with Luke. Tears welled against her closed eyelids. She’d known the man for less than two weeks. She shouldn’t be this upset about their parting.

It was the sex. It created a false sense of intimacy. She felt as though the relationship was much closer than it was. What did she really know about him, anyway?

She choked on a sob.

“I told Dennis to take it easy on you.” Patty’s voice pulled her out of her self-pity party.

Surreptitiously wiping her eyes on her sleeve, Miranda lifted her head and forced a smile. “He worked twice as hard as I did. I’ve just gotten soft from all that city living. How’s Theo this morning?”

Worry tightened her sister-in-law’s jaw. “His temp’s 102, but the doc says that’s typical of this flu. And kids can handle high fevers better than adults can. I’m putting him in a tepid bath if it doesn’t come down when he wakes up again.”

“Theo will love that.”

Patty snorted at Miranda’s sarcasm. “Yeah, baths are not a hit even when he’s feeling fine.” She grabbed a mug and poured herself some coffee. “Would you like pancakes or eggs?”

“Whatever Dennis wants is fine.”

Patty threw her a look. “Your brother’s not real picky, so it’s up to you.”

“Pancakes, then.”

“Could you grab the mix out of the pantry?” Patty had pulled a package of bacon from the fridge.

Miranda rose stiffly and hobbled to the pantry door. As she scanned the shelves, a spear of misery lanced through her. Staring out from a bright orange Wheaties box were the pale blue eyes of Luke Archer, his arm cocked back ready to send a football sailing through the air. She couldn’t get enough oxygen into her lungs as she stared at the hand curved around the pigskin and remembered how it felt against her skin.

“Pancake mix is on the third shelf down. Grab the syrup, too,” Patty said.

Miranda seized the cereal box and shoved it between the Cheerios and the Froot Loops. “Got it,” she said as she scooped up the syrup and pancake mix and backed away from the pantry.

Patty gave her an appraising glance. “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Dennis always claimed the farmhouse was haunted.” Miranda rummaged around for a mixing bowl. “Where is he, by the way? He told me I had to set my alarm for six.”

“Probably thought you’d need time to primp,” Patty said.

Miranda touched the sloppy bun she’d yanked her uncombed hair into and glanced down at her jeans and long-sleeved thermal T-shirt with a short laugh. “Yeah, I did a lot of primping.”

Patty looked up from laying the bacon in the frying pan. “You’re lucky. With your big brown eyes and that ivory skin, you don’t have to wear a lick of makeup to look gorgeous.”

Right now Miranda felt anything but gorgeous.

“Morning, sis.” Dennis shuffled into the kitchen. Patty handed him a mug with steam wisping out of it, and he buried his nose in it.

“Burning daylight, bro,” Miranda teased as she stirred water and eggs into the mix.

He squinted at the window, where the sky was just showing a tinge of pink. “Not day yet.”

Miranda examined the two of them surreptitiously. They both looked tired and drawn, although Dennis had surprising color in his cheeks. Probably from working outdoors in the frosty October air.

Her brother gulped down his coffee and took the whisk out of her hand with a grin. “I’ll handle the pancakes. Last time you cooked, the smoke alarm went off, and I don’t want to wake Theo up.”

“Hey, that was five years ago.” Miranda bumped him with her hip.

“And you haven’t been near the stove since,” her brother said, elbowing her away from the counter.

“Behave, children,” Patty said, but she was smiling.

Miranda was glad to see their faces more relaxed, so she carried on with ribbing her brother as they cooked and ate a speedy breakfast. At the back door, they shoved their feet into rubber boots and piled on warm clothing against the bite of the early-morning chill.

Dennis laid his hand on her shoulder. “It’s like old times. I miss having you working beside me.”

“Me, too,” she said, giving him a kiss on his scruffy cheek. Amazingly enough, it was true. There was something comforting about the familiar tasks of forking hay, attaching milking machines, mucking out the barn, and processing the fresh milk. Not to mention that they kept her mind off Luke Archer. She winced as the sense of loss sliced through her again.

Dennis held the door open for her, and she stepped out onto the flagstone path that led through the yard toward the dairy barn. The rising sun’s rays angled along the rails of the fence, lining them with light. The cows stood waiting by the barn door, their warm breath blowing puffs of mist into crystalline air. An occasional moo punctuated the dawn birdsong.