Free Coming Home to Texas by Allie Pleiter Page A

throes of serious rebound. A romantic land mine best kept in platonic territory. “It’s been what, nine days? I think you’re entitled to pitch a few fits.”
    She smirked. “Thanks. If you need anything hammered to bits, give me a call. I’ve got a lot of aggression to work out, and there are only so many holes you can dig on the ranch before the bison start to complain.”
    It was a good thing it was only a lunch break, or he might be tempted to remove the T-top inserts so that the Z was nearly a convertible and take Ellie out on the open highway. She’d like the way the wind and the engine noise could wash a problem off—for a little while, anyway. He’d come to depend on how a drive could blow off the residue a bad day could leave all over his mind and body. The unnerving notion that they weren’t so different settled persistent and itchy in the back of his mind. Instead, he looked at his watch. “I’m back on shift in ten minutes. Thanks for the treats.”
    â€œSure thing. I’ll see you on the eighth, then?” The program was scheduled to start the first Wednesday after Easter.
    He wasn’t that surprised to realize he was looking forward to seeing her every week. This was going to take a little discipline on his part, especially if she kept plying him with baked goods and warm smiles. He rose and piled the rest of the blondies onto the pizza box while he picked up the files with his other hand. “Yep. See you then.”
    The little wave she gave as she headed out the office front door stuck with him for hours. That was not necessarily a good sign.

Chapter Seven
    T he crickets were singing loudly as Gunner’s wife, Brooke, walked out on to the porch clutching a glass of ginger ale. “I don’t need to read any test results to know this is a boy,” she groaned as she eased herself into the wicker rocking chair. “No female would do this to another woman. It’s got to be a boy. I was never this sick with Audie.”
    Ellie finished the last row of the sample squares she was knitting for the first girls’ class next week. She’d found a clever pattern that took a small square and stitched it up into a slipper sock—an excellent first project for teen girls. It was a fun pattern to make up in bright colors of inexpensive yarn, but the resulting slipper socks would feel extra wonderful and last a long time if done in bison fiber. As such, they perfectly suited her program. “I’m sorry you’ve had such a rough time of it,” she offered to her pale sister-in-law.
    Brooke produced a weak smile. “I could say the same for you. You were awfully quiet at dinner. Did something happen in town?”
    Ellie put down the finished square and picked up her basket full of yarn. She moved over to the chair next to Brooke. “Shows that much, does it?” She reached into the basket and pulled out two balls of fluffy pastel yarn, one a sunny yellow and the other mint green. “I’ll be okay. Which color do you like?”
    Brooke considered a moment and then chose the green yarn. “I take it word’s gotten out why you’re home?”
    Sitting back in her chair, Ellie fished the correct set of needles out of her case and began to cast on the required number of stitches for a baby-size version of the slipper sock. The sky was a still, perfect lavender dusk. The night had fallen soft and warm on such a jarring day. “It was bound to happen. I can’t hide out at the ranch forever.” She stopped stitching for a moment. “I just didn’t count on feeling so...exposed. Like the whole world thinks they know my business, even though they only have half the story. It made me want to run around explaining the other half.” She returned to the stitches. “Does that make any sense?”
    Brooke sipped her ginger ale. “What’s the half you think everyone