A Cowgirl's Secret - By Laura Marie Altom Page 0,1

she gathered a few of her son’s stray adventure books, action figures and clothes, placing them in his room, before closing his bedroom door.

She showered then dressed in black yoga pants and a green T-shirt from her law firm’s softball team. She blew-dry her long hair. All of the actions were ordinary enough, yet her limbs felt heavy and drugged. Beyond cold symptoms, secrets that had haunted her for far too long clung to her shoulders. On how many New Year’s Eves had she promised herself to face her fears? To once and for all not only reunite with her family, but tell the uncensored truth of why she’d left.

Outside, July fog had settled over the usually expansive view, cocooning her in a false sense of security. Of all of the people who’d come in and out of her life, Luke had meant the most. He’d been hardest to leave and stood to be hurt most by her revelations.

While she stood staring out at the grayness, the loft door opened behind her. Luke had long ago imprinted himself upon her soul. So much so that even now, she knew the strong cadence of his walk without turning around.

“I grabbed Popsicles, tea, honey, lemons and chicken-soup fixings. Park your behind on the sofa and I’ll get down to the business of nursing you.”

“Why are you doing this?” Facing him, she rubbed her hands up her bare arms to ward off a sudden chill. “I know I hurt you—deeply—yet there you stand, loading my freezer with treats and acting as if you don’t have a million questions.”

“First, fixing is what I do for a living. Second, I figure when you’re ready, you’ll talk. Until then—” he rummaged beneath her kitchen island, found a saucepan then filled it with water “—might as well give myself something to do.”

For as long as she could remember, Daisy had wanted to escape her hometown of Weed Gulch, Oklahoma. Luke, however, loved nothing more than the solace of wind-swayed prairie grasses. When she’d known him, he’d been more comfortable in the company of horses and dogs than people. Was he still the same?

“Thank you. For the groceries, I mean. And cooking.”

“Sure.” He lit the gas burner beneath her tea water.

Sitting on a stool at the granite bar, she asked, “How did you find me?”

“Didn’t.” He took a mug from the cabinet alongside the sink. “Your mom’s had a P.I. on retainer ever since you left. When your dad died, she put the matter in Dallas’s hands. Most leads he handles, but this one, he didn’t have time for. Asked me to handle it.”

It. As if all she’d become to her family was an imposition. An obligation they felt honor-bound to see through. Could she blame them? As an eighteen-year-old with the entirety of her trust fund at her disposal, the only thing that’d mattered was getting the hell out of Dodge with her sanity intact. In retrospect, maybe she should’ve done things differently. What was that old saying?

If foresight was as good as hindsight, we’d be better off by a damned sight.

“Drink.”

Daisy looked up to find Luke bearing a fragrant cup of tea. She took a cautious sip of the steaming brew, relishing the soothing honey on her raw throat. “Delicious. I can’t remember the last time I’ve had this.”

Leaning against the counter, crossing his jeans-clad legs at the ankles, he snorted. “Used to be you never slowed long enough to be trusted with hot liquids. I remember you as a wild thing. Driven by some unseen force I never understood.”

True.

Extensive counseling had long since quieted internal screams. But what happened now? She’d lived under the assumption that she’d never again need to deal with the devil. She missed her mother. Her brothers. But once they heard the truth of why she’d left, would they even want to see her? Or would they blame her for what that monster had done?

“Not gonna lie,” Luke said, starting on the soup by filling a Dutch oven with water. “Dallas is expecting my call. I’m supposed to tell him you’re found. If you’d like, I can also tell him you’d prefer to remain lost.”

“Is that what I am to you?” Wrapping cold fingers around the warm mug, she searched for the right way to explain that only after she’d left Weed Gulch had she felt even a fraction of sanity. “Just some lost soul, wandering? Looking for a home? Because if that is what you think, you’re wrong. I’ve clawed