“I’ve got plans,” Gorman said, picking up his weights.

Luke let his eyes rest on Gorman’s face.

After a few seconds, the big man sighed. “When and where?”

Luke smiled. “Davis and Shetler are coming, too. We’ll see who handles cattle better, Longhorns or Cheeseheads.” Luke tapped Gorman’s bulging shoulder. “Appreciate it, man.”

His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. Pulling it out, he saw Gavin Miller’s name and headed for the door as he answered, “What is this, a weekly check-in?”

“I’m bored,” the writer said. “Tuesday’s your day off, so let’s play.”

“I play for a living.”

“There you go with that punning when I’m supposed to be the wordsmith.”

“If you can’t do your job, you have to bring in replacements.” Luke kept walking down the hall toward his office.

“Low blow, boyo,” Miller said with an edge to his tone. “So what’s on the agenda for tomorrow?”

“Milking cows.”

Miller laughed. “Now that’s a unique attempt to get rid of me. You could just say, ‘Piss off.’”

“You’re not good at taking no for an answer.” Luke felt a smile twitch at the corner of his lips. He admired Miller’s imperviousness to insults.

“One of my many charms,” the writer said. “Seriously, join me for lunch at the Bellwether tomorrow.”

“I told you, I have cows to milk.”

“I’ll call your bluff and join you in the barn.”

Luke cursed inwardly. He’d wanted to keep Miller away from Miranda, and now he was leading him straight to her. “You ever touched a cow?”

“I’m from rural Illinois, where farm animals abound.”

“You didn’t answer the question.” He turned into his office.

After a brief pause, Miller said, “I’ve touched a cow. And a horse. And a lot of sheep and chickens. But don’t tell anyone.”

Luke was surprised by the ring of grudging truth in his answer. It sounded as though only desperation would force Miller to admit his background. The man must really need a break. “Okay. Meet me here at the Empire Center at eight a.m.”

“Who’s driving?”

“My pilot. We’re taking the chopper.”

Miller whistled. “I can’t wait to meet your farmer friend.”

That reminded Luke of how badly he’d screwed up with Miranda. “My farmer friend may not feel the same way.”

Chapter 26

On Tuesday morning, Miranda groaned as she swung open the heavy wooden door to the cheese cave. Her shoulders and arms already ached from attaching the milking machines to the cow’s udders, dragging around bales of hay, and shoveling cow manure. The mouthwatering scent of aging cheese wafted outward, so she closed her eyes and just breathed it in for a long moment.

Dennis’s artisanal cheeses kept the farm profitable, but they had to be taken to the markets in New York City, where the high-end chefs paid top dollar to list “Tate Farms handmade cheddar” on their menus. Tomorrow was market day, so Miranda needed to load the cheese into the delivery van she’d backed up to the cave. The driver would pick the truck up at 2:00 a.m. and head for the city. At least he hadn’t succumbed to the flu.

She stepped into the prep room and swung the door shut behind her. The cave was man-made, a cement-lined space Dennis had dug into the side of a hill once he decided cheese was worth the investment. Each shelf-filled room held different sorts of cheese, aging in different ways and for different periods of time. Luckily, Dennis had already sorted and packaged the cheeses that were ready for shipping before he’d been struck down by the flu. All Miranda had to do was lug them to the truck.

“Yeah, that’s all I have to do.” She shed her outdoor boots and jacket and put on the clean overalls and boots required for handling the pristine cheeses. As she was tucking her hair into a net, her cell phone vibrated in her jeans pocket.

She considered ignoring it since she’d just fastened up the coveralls. But Dennis was still feverish, so she dragged the zipper back down and fished the phone out of her jeans pocket. When she saw Patty’s name on the screen, she answered instantly. “Is everything okay?”

“No one’s died, but I think you’d better get back here to the house right away. Can’t talk anymore. Gotta go.” Her sister-in-law hung up.

Miranda swiftly toed off the boots and tossed the hairnet and overalls back on the counter. It sounded as though Dennis or Theo—or maybe both—had taken a turn for the worse. That would be bad news when Theo had seemed on the mend, and Dennis’s temperature had come down to 101. She shrugged into her jacket and jogged back out to the battered pickup truck she’d parked by the cheese-making shed. Seeing all the gleaming equipment through the window reminded her of her responsibility for the payments, and she felt the weight settle on her already sagging shoulders.

It would be easier to sling hay bales than to carry the financial burden right now.

As the rattletrap old truck crested the hill, she could see the farmhouse. A large green SUV and an unfamiliar pickup sat in the driveway.

All she could think of was that Patty had needed to call the doctor. Terror tightened Miranda’s throat, and she slammed her foot down on the accelerator, practically going airborne. Skidding into the driveway, she leaped out of the truck and barreled through the front door and into the hallway. “Patty! What’s happened?” she called, not sure whether to go upstairs.