Free Protecting Their Child by Angi Morgan Page B

turned to the stove. “Not instant, mind you. I hate instant. Don’t you? Well, even if you preferred it, I’d have to make it on the stove because I don’t have any. Instant, that is. I don’t like it so I don’t buy it.”
    “How is Mr. Burke?”
    “Staying busy. A rancher’s work is never done. He rests a lot, though. Takes things slower.” Juliet wiped the corner of her eye with the back of her hand as she gathered more chocolate ingredients.
    Tears? So maybe the rumor she’d heard about his remission was true and he wasn’t doing well at all. How terrible for Juliet and Nick.
    Hearing Juliet’s voice reminded her how much she missed her father being around the house. This was exactly how he talked when he made his enchiladas. The one dish he excelled at and had perfected. He explained everything he did, each and every time.
    Then it was her turn to cook and he’d chatted instructions nonstop until the pan was in the oven and the cheese bubbled to perfection. She’d asked him why when she was about seventeen. Being a smart-assed teenager, she’d patiently explained to him that she’d heard the recitation once a month her entire life and could repeat it by heart.
    Of course, the next batch was the most horrible enchiladas they’d ever eaten because she’d had to prepare them on her own. After that, they cooked enchiladas together with her father talking her through every family secret along the way.
    “Kate?” Cord was seated at the table with her. He nodded toward Juliet.
    “Hmm?” She’d been so lost in thought, or so dang tired, she hadn’t heard him come in the door.
    “Toast or biscuits?” Juliet asked, looking concerned. “Are you too tired to eat, dear?”
    “Oh, sorry. No, I’m starving. Food first, please.”
    “Toast, Mrs. Burke.”
    “Then I’ll have to make biscuits for dinner. Now that I put the thought of them in my head it’s the only way to get them out.”
    “I’m going to check in with Mac’s men. Find out if they saw anything.” Cord stood, scooting the chair across the wooden floor that was older than everyone in the room added together.
    “You go right ahead, dear. I’ll have everything ready to throw in the pan when you get back. I’m just going to fry up some venison sausage.”
    The uniform pants didn’t fit him as snugly as they had three years ago. He’d lost weight and gained a lot of muscle even over the past five months. It had felt really good on that couch, backed against his chest. Having his warm breath caress the back of her neck had caused some additional tingling that had kept her awake long past him falling asleep.
    Before the shooting, his occasional light snores would wake her and she would shake him to tell him to go back asleep. Last night, she couldn’t close her eyes until he was relaxed and breathing deeply.
    Kate didn’t want to be rude, but watching her ex-husband walk to the bunkhouse comforted her and she really couldn’t concentrate too much on what Juliet was saying. She listened to the stories, remembering how many times she’d sat at this same table.
    “Do you remember the first time we met, dear?”
    “Yes, ma’am. Mom brought me over after you bought the place from Mac. She was the self-appointed, one-woman welcoming committee to Valentine.”
    “That’s right. She brought us her homemade bread. I was so impressed she showed me how to make it on the spot. Said she got tired of running to the store when your brother used all the bread to feed the baby chicks. Did she ever break him of that?”
    “Not until he stopped feeding the chickens as one of his chores.” She laughed at the memory. “Angering mom to get out of the chore may have been the only reason he used the bread. Davy still hates feeding chickens.”
    She wiped her hands on her ruffled apron and held them out to Kate. A serious look consumed her normally cheery face.
    Kate held on to Juliet’s strong embrace. “I miss her.”
    “I do, too. I only bring