Trey and Taylor went into the living room to get their phones. “I’m to bring decorations. Cassidy is in charge of streamers and balloons, so I’ll work with her on coordinating that.”
Knox cleared his throat. “Um, I can help with that, too. I don’t want you to have to carry all that stuff from the storage locker. You have too many old props and stuff that weigh a ton.”
“Into older women?” Trey asked, trying not to laugh. Both of his sons had a crush on Cassidy.
“She’s only two years older than me. And I don’t have a crush. I was just trying to be helpful.” He blushed all the way up to the roots of his dark blond hair, giving away his real intentions.
Trey looked down at his phone. “I’m in charge of green beans. Five gallons of green beans.”
His wife squealed suddenly. When Trey looked up she was beaming. “Holt is coming up from Nashville to sing for the party. I’ll have both my boys home. But now I need a theme.”
“Medieval fair? It should make the Rose sisters remember their childhood.”
Taylor glared at her husband. “That’s not nice.”
“But it’s true,” Trey chuckled.
“Oh, I have it. Gatsby Glamour with a Southern twist. Think chandeliers and cowboy boots.” His wife started muttering to herself as she walked from the room.
Trey followed her into the kitchen. She was already at the table drawing out her vision for the party. He stopped behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders. And when she leaned back against him and smiled at him, he fell in love all over again. Something he did on a daily basis.
* * *
Nabi looked out over his small property that connected to Mo and Dani’s farm, Desert Sun, from his large porch. His ten-year-old daughter, Faith, was doing something on her computer on the nearby outdoor couch. Ever since she was born, she’d looked up to Kale. He’d shared his love of computers with her.
Nabi’s wife, Grace, was sitting next to him reading Gemma’s latest book as he pondered his life. He’d just turned fifty, and while he loved his job as head of security for the royal family, he was ready to spend more time with his own family. Since Grace was still teaching kindergarten, she had summers off, and he wanted to spend them with her and Faith.
“Grace,” Nabi said, turning to his wife and dropping his voice so Faith wouldn’t overhear them. “What do you think about me taking a step back from work?”
A wild curl escaped the headband his wife was wearing and fell across her forehead. “How so?”
“I want to see if I can start working part-time. It will give Nash a chance to run things while I can still train him before handing the whole thing off to him in a couple years.”
“Could we go to the lake for a week?” Faith asked as her head remained hidden behind the computer. There was no hiding anything from her.
“I was hoping we could. What do you think, Grace?”
His wife’s hand covered his and squeezed. “I think it would be wonderful.”
“Did you two know it was the Rose sisters’ hundredth birthday?” Faith asked, finally popping up from behind her laptop screen.
“No, when?” Grace asked, turning to look at their daughter while keeping her hand locked with her husband’s.
“Day after tomorrow. Kale just texted me. He’s coming home for it and said there’s this new hack he wants to teach me.”
“Should we be letting her do that?” Grace whispered.
Nabi shrugged. “A little late to start pulling her back now. Kale is as smart as they come, so why not let her learn from the best?”
“Make sure you keep an eye on her, though. I don’t want Ryan showing up to arrest her one day before school. I’ll run inside and grab my phone to see if there is any news about their birthday.”
Nabi watched his wife head into the house and took a deep breath. Retirement. Could he do that? The only thing holding him back was knowing he’d grow restless. He wanted to spend time with his family, but he also wasn’t the type to sit back and do nothing.
“Oh goodness. We’ve missed a lot,” Grace called out as she pushed open the screen door while looking down at her phone. “We are to bring baked beans and flowers. Dani said I could use our garden or theirs to get them.”
“There’s a whole field of wildflowers down by the stream at the back of Desert Farm,” Faith said excitedly as she closed her laptop.
“Great idea, sweetie. While Dad makes the beans, you and I will pick the flowers.”
Nabi sat back and listened to Grace and Faith discussing flowers and decorations. Taylor had written that the theme was Southern Gatsby. He didn’t know what the hell that meant, but his wife had squealed with delight. Retirement didn’t sound so bad after all . . . As long as he got to keep on beating up bad guys every once in a while.
* * *
The Davies Farm was quiet as the evening’s warm glow bathed the land around them in oranges and yellows. Marcy sat on her rocking chair, looking out over the land she’d worked since she was eighteen. Her parents had left her to join her brothers in South Carolina after condemning her marriage to Jake. And she’d lost touch with them decades ago. It was something she should mend before time ran out. She’d been busy all these years as a mother to six children, seventeen grandchildren, and no great-grandchildren—yet.
“I think our children think we’re getting old,” Jake said as he handed her a cup of tea before taking a seat in the rocking chair next to her.
“We are getting old,” Marcy snickered.
“Well, maybe. But the boys wouldn’t let me help mend the fences today.”
Marcy reached a hand out and patted her husband’s leg. Age has a way of sneaking up on you. It seemed it was just yesterday she had married the love of her life. Now she hardly recognized the age-spotted and wrinkled skin of her own hand. But she recognized the feel of her husband and would until she died.
“You know Betsy and William have decided to move to Florida. We could do that someday.”
Jake took off his cowboy hat and set it on the side table next to him. “I would have thought you wanted to see your great-grandchildren running around this place.”
“I do. But it won’t be that much longer until this house is filled with more family than it can hold.”
“It didn’t have any trouble holding our boys this afternoon. Don’t think I didn’t notice the apple pie that was supposed to be my dessert tonight is suddenly gone,” Jake smirked.
Marcy smiled at her husband. After all these years, did he really think she forgot about him? “I made two. You have one all to yourself inside.”
“I knew there was a reason I married you,” Jake teased as he got up and disappeared inside.
Marcy looked back out at the farm that had been in the family for generations. It was time to admit things needed to change. When Jake came back out with a huge slice of pie, Marcy asked him, “What do you think about dividing up the farm to each of the boys? They all have farms that border ours. We can divide it that way.”
“Are you really wanting to move, Marcy?” Jake asked, setting his fork down.
Marcy shook her head. “Not yet. We’ve never really talked about what we want to do with the farm, and I think it would be fair to give a little bit to each son and the house and surrounding couple of acres to Paige.”
“I think it’s a good idea, but not one I’m ready for. I still enjoy riding through my fields,” Jake said, and Marcy had to agree. He still looked handsome as could be sitting on a horse.
“Well, when the time comes, I think we have a plan.”
“I’ll tell you what my plan is.”
Marcy looked over at her husband licking the last crumb from his fork. “What is it?”
“I’m going to get more pie and then kiss you so you know how much I enjoyed it.” Jake sent her a wink and headed back inside.
Marcy heard the screen door slam and in her mind she saw her children running through the same door for dinner, their jeans muddy,
their hazel eyes sparkling, and all of them talking at once. It was home. It was her home. Over the years, those children grew into adults. And then it was grandchildren racing through the door for her pies. The door opened and it wasn’t an old man she saw. It was Jake, his body lean and muscled, his face filled with a youthful smile, and a slight hint of mischief to his hazel eyes. He leaned over her and kissed her. And for that one moment her arthritis and age spots disappeared, and she was a young girl madly in love with a boy.
6
Sienna Ashton Parker pulled into her driveway and saw the lights in the house begin to flicker. Her dog, Hooch, knew she was home. It had been a long day at the Thoroughbreds’ office. She loved her job as a sports psychologist, but it had been a long couple of days with a few of the players facing anxiety over contract negotiations. The summer wasn’t a quiet time for the people in the front office.
Sienna pulled into the garage and walked out front to get the mail. The front door opened and Hooch, well over a hundred ten pounds of jowls and rolling muscles, stumbled out the front door. He knocked over a chair as he bounded off the porch and down the driveway.
“There’s my baby,” Sienna cooed as Hooch tried to slam on the brakes but failed miserably. Instead of stopping, he launched his body upward, slamming two enormous paws into her chest and sending her stumbling backward into the mailbox.
“He’s missed you,” Ryan called out.
Sienna wedged the small knit baby’s cap that had been left sitting not so innocently in the mailbox onto Hooch’s head. “Go see Daddy.”
Hooch’s deep bark rumbled through Sienna’s chest before he turned and ran toward Ryan with the yellow cap barely hanging on as Sienna had stretched it to three times its size in order to fit Hooch’s head.
“Another one?” Ryan groaned as he took the knit cap off Hooch.
“She’s your mother. You deal with it, or I swear I will tie my tubes.”
“Come on now. You know she scares me,” Ryan complained, leaning down from the top of the porch to kiss her. “Welcome home. I made dinner.”
“Well, I guess that redeems you somewhat from being afraid of your mom,” Sienna said, sniffing the air. “Is that—?”
“My homemade gumbo.” Ryan smiled.
“You’re definitely forgiven.” Sienna pushed past him and went straight to the crockpot and sniffed. Her stomach rumbled, and she might have drooled. Living with Hooch was rubbing off on her.
“What do you think about the party for the Rose sisters?” Ryan asked, stirring the gumbo.
“I think they’ll find out.” Sienna kicked off her heels and took a seat on the barstool.
“We’re supposed to bring plates.”
“No problem. I’ll pick them up tomorrow. Do you want to meet for lunch? I have a break unless someone comes in without an appointment, which is always possible.”
Ryan shook his head. “Sorry. I was able to leave early today, but tomorrow we have some training with the DEA office. We’re working closely with them on the heroin problem. Apparently they’ve been having luck using undercover agents.”
Sienna licked the spoon Ryan had just used to stir the gumbo. “Haven’t you all used undercover work for a long time?”
Ryan shrugged. “They said they’re thinking outside the box with people who don’t look like agents—like housewives or moms or something. I don’t know. They’re going to brief us on this new approach tomorrow.”
“So you and some PTA moms are going to bring down the heroin dealers? Whatever works. We’ve upped the number of drug tests for the football team. It’s too easy to get and too easy to get hooked on. I’m leading a drug education class next month when the rookies come.”
Ryan brought out two bowls and started spooning gumbo into them. “The undercover agents won’t be there. We’re just learning about different ways to utilize undercover work. But something needs to be done. Four people died last night in one apartment complex from overdosing.”
Sienna dug into her gumbo and moaned.
Ryan shook his head with amusement. “I used to be the only one who could get you to make that sound.”
“I won’t complain if you want to try. I don’t want you to lose your touch,” Sienna said seductively before ruining the moment by moaning around another mouthful of gumbo.
“My pleasure,” Ryan said, scooping his wife up and carrying her down the hall.
“My gumbo!”
Ryan kissed her and gumbo became a distant memory.
* * *
Deacon McKnight crept through the shadows of the trailer park on the outskirts of Lexington with Detective Andrea Braxton. The trailer park was surrounded by woods and located far enough from town that the criminals who called it home felt safe. Two days before, a fourteen-year-old girl never came home from swimming at the community pool and that investigation led them to the trailer park. The girl’s mother and father were frantic. Detective Braxton had recommended the parents hire Deacon to assist her as well since her plate was full of open cases.
Deacon had worked nonstop tracing the girl’s footsteps. He’d learned she’d left the pool, and a block away an old lady remembered seeing her pass by as she watered her plants. Two blocks later, Deacon had found a home with a motion-activated smart doorbell. From the far side of the camera, Tisha could be seen walking on the sidewalk, triggering the doorbell to begin recording. She hadn’t gotten but three more steps when a rusted-out car approached her and stopped behind her. A man got out, grabbed Tisha, and in seconds had her in the trunk and drove off.
With the tape in hand, Deacon had taken it to Detective Braxton. They visited the elderly neighbor who recognized the car as one of their neighbor’s deadbeat sons. It was only a short matter of time before they had the address for the trailer and were hoping to rescue Tisha.
“I’ll take the suspect down. You stay here,” Detective Braxton whispered as she drew her gun.
Deacon waited as Braxton announced herself and then charged into the trailer. The small bathroom window slid open and the scrawny man from the security footage wiggled out. As he came to his feet, he jumped back in surprise at seeing Deacon.
“Hiya.” Deacon smiled as he rammed his fist into the man’s chin, sending him sliding down the side of the trailer. Braxton ran out of the trailer with her arm around Tisha and looked at the unconscious suspect. “He fell trying to get out of the window. Slammed his chin right onto the ground.”
Detective Braxton just shook her head and called in the EMTs.
“Tisha,” Deacon said, kneeling in front of the tattered and tear-stained girl. Her black braided hair was sticking out in all directions as she clung to the detective. “My name is Deacon McKnight. Your parents, Tyler and Jayla, hired me to find you. Why don’t we call them so they know you’re safe? Would you like that?”
Tisha nodded her head as Deacon entered the number. “We have her. Hold on.”
Tisha grabbed the phone. “Mommy?”
* * *
Two hours later, Deacon drove up his long driveway. It was dark, but he had waited until Tisha’s parents met her at the hospital before declaring the case closed. The sound of a barking dog reached him as soon as the garage door began rising. Before he could even pull in, the door opened and his wife stood outlined by the kitchen lights.
“Is she safe?” Sydney asked, hurrying down to him as Robyn, their rust-colored vizsla, bounded around carrying a small stuffed toy.
“Yes. Her parents are with her now. The guy thought he could sell her for drugs. Needless to say, he got that idea while high. Then he didn’t know what to do with her when he crashed. So he stole money from her backpack and got high again, leaving her tied to the kitchen table.”
Deacon kissed his wife and felt centered again. No matter how many bad things he saw while working, Sydney was his light.
“This probably isn’t the right time to tell you that your father sent us something.”
Deacon grumbled as he walked inside. “What now
?”
“Your old crib.” Sydney stepped out of his way to where the crib that had been in the McKnight family for generations stood freshly stained.
“Anything else I should know about?” Deacon asked, collapsing onto the couch.
“Yes, there’s a surprise party for the Rose sisters’ hundredth birthday in two days. Taylor called me and asked me to make dresses for the ladies to change into once there. It’s a Southern Gatsby theme.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
Sydney rolled her eyes. “You grew up in Atlanta society and you can’t figure that out?”
“What do I need to do?” Deacon asked, trying to not think about all the horrible cotillions he’d been to as a young man.
“Lots and lots of cups. Poppy and Zinnia have been recruited to make a massive amount of Rose sisters’ iced tea,” Sydney called out as Robyn attacked the toy before grabbing it and running around the living room as fast as she could.
Deacon grasped Sydney’s wrist as she walked by and pulled her into his lap. “Sounds like you’re going to be busy making dresses. Do you have time with your summer line launching?”
“Syd Inc. is a well-oiled machine. The launch has been great. The review on the clothes has been fantastic. I can afford to take some time off, especially for the Rose sisters.”
“I can think of something to do on your time off,” Deacon murmured as he ran his lips over her neck.
“Mmm. And what’s that?” Sydney asked breathily.
“I think it’s about time to get to work on filling that crib.”
* * *
Mila Ali Rahman swallowed hard as she looked at the pregnancy test. She heard Zain let out a deep ragged breath.
“Negative. Again.” Mila’s voice came out hoarsely as disappointment strangled her.
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