Page 3 of Honoring Freedom
“Abbott. Keller Abbott.”
She dropped the brush and sucked oxygen into her lungs. That was a name she hadn’t heard in years. Her world spun like a tilt-a-whirl as memories came flooding back. That summer when she and Keller had fallen in love. The summer that she’d had her heart broken into a million pieces.
Betrayal loomed in her veins.
“Jinx, do me a favor and finish up with Requiem. I have something I need to take care of.”
Chapter One
Freedom slammed the screen door and strolled into the farmhouse kitchen, stopping dead in her tracks. “I should have known,” she snarled at the petite brunette wearing an oversized T-shirt that landed a few inches below her ass. She was stirring creamer into her coffee cup and looked over at Freedom with a narrowed gaze.
Impatience flowed hot through her veins. After finding out that Keller was the new ranch vet, she’d been biting at the bit, ready to draw blood.
“Excuse me?” the twat muttered, rolling her eyes.
“Who the hell areyou?” Freedom arched a brow.
The woman swiveled on her bare heels and her pretty face twisted in annoyance. “Who the hell areyou?”
“Your worst nightmare.” Freedom had no tolerance for ignorance. She arrived at the Abbott Farm to manage matters that should have been dealt with long ago. Seeing a half-dressed woman in Keller’s kitchen only made those matters worse.
Thetwatraked her blue eyes over Freedom. “Did you take a wrong turn, princess? I suggest you turn and find your way back to where you came from.”
Freedom smiled as she moved around the messy kitchen island and grabbed a skillet from the stove, weighing it dramatically in her hand. “This will do.” She raised the cast iron pan. “Get ready for a dose of a country girl’s impatience, sweetie.”
The young woman, not a day older than twenty-one, with large eyes now wider with fear, had stepped back a few feet, clutching her cup as an ineffective shield. “I didn't know he was married. I swear.”
Freedom snorted. “Something in that practiced statement tells me you wouldn’t care if he was married.”
A soft chuckle made both women look at the man leaning against the door frame, who was as tempting as a freshly baked croissant that Freedom should be enjoying at home instead of tending to a cowboy.
“I couldn't have orchestrated a reunion like this even if I tried,” he said smoothly, grinning.
Keller Abbott appeared completely carefree, at least based on his expression. With disheveled hair, a bare chest, and jeans that left unbuttoned and unzipped, he caused Freedom to stare in unwanted admiration. During her leisurely examination, she’d lowered the skillet a few inches. If he’d changed at all he’d only managed to get better looking.
"Still lacking in taste, I see." Freedom glanced at the girl who seemed less terrified now that her lover had come to her rescue. “Did you go shopping for this one over at Slick Charley’s or on the street corner of Low Town? I must say, they keep getting younger and younger.”
"Excuse me?" the woman stammered, regaining the courage Freedom had witnessed at first.
“You heard me. I don’t think I stuttered,” Freedom said. “Nice tattoo, by the way. A chisel and hammer would have done a better job.” Normally not this sprightly so early, Freedom's anger hadn’t diminished one iota on the drive over. She’d been having a wonderful morning until she almost choked on her saliva when Jinx told her the news about Keller. Now to walk in and find his flavor of the week, clad only in his T-shirt, made her stomach roll.
“Freedom, put the skillet down,” Keller urged.
“And why should I do that?” She kept her gaze steady on the girl. “Obviously she likes being hammered.”
The hussy gasped and set the cup down with attitude, wrapping her arms over her waist, practically fuming from every pore. “Keller, is thisyourproblem?” The woman sliced her gaze over Freedom. “This… lady with the bad boob job.”
“I’ll forgive you for not knowing real tits from fake ones. I’m sure you haven’t seen a pair your entire life, Miss-Itty-Bitty.” Freedom grew up with four sisters. She could do this tit-for-tat all day.
“Jesus, Freedom. What fucking time is it?” Keller bit out, anger finally marring his previously serene expression.
She’d always had a unique talent for ruffling his feathers.
“Nine,” both women said in unison.
“I don’t really give a damn, but it’s way too early for a cat fight.” He strolled over, grabbed the pan out of Freedom’s hand and laid it into the sink. “Freedom, this is Kimmie—”
“Kimmie, huh? I think I’ll call her Miss No Tits,” Freedom craned her neck to look at the girl, “and you must be mediocre in the sack because if you were any good you’d still be in bed because if he hasn’t told you, Keller loves a good morning blow—”