Chapter Twenty-Seven
The rest of the week passed in a blur of activity as Nash and Kenzi wrapped up loose ends so they could visit Kenzi’s favorite place for a few days. They put in long hours at the office, which left little time alone together. Nash hadn’t tried to kiss Kenzi again. Part of him was scared that no other kiss would live up to the last one. The other part of him was scared that it would. Kisses like the ones they’d shared in Kenzi’s office weren’t to be rushed or stolen or dismissed. He’d bide his time for when the moment was right.
However, that moment was looking less and less likely.
“I’m sorry again about the stowaway.” Kenzi kept one hand on the cream-colored steering wheel and brushed the other over Hattie’s sleeping cheek. They were driving in a restored 1950s GM truck, complete with telescoping steering wheel—a new feature during the vehicle’s release year—and leather seats. What it didn’t have was airbags.
Nash eyed the glove box warily. Sure, the truck felt like a tank with its Olympic-swimming-pool-blue paint job and fenders the thickness of his thumb, but what was to stop him from being sent through the windshield? At least Hattie had a car seat. His lap belt left much to be desired. “How’d you end up with aunt duty?” Hattie was kind of the perfect distraction from what would otherwise have been an awkward, expectation-filled ride.
Kenzi switched hands on the wheel and leaned her elbow on the door. “Lunette decided she needed a spa weekend and Raquel went along.”
“That sounds nice.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” She sighed. “It’s code forI’m going to dry out and need people to repair the damage I’ve caused. The spa is a front for alcoholics who want to cover their tracks.”
Nash turned in his seat so his back was against the door and he could see Kenzi better. He liked to look at her. She had a beautifully honest face. Right now, her face was clouded with her sister’s choices. Was that what his brother and sister looked like when they thought of him? Did they make up excuses for his absence in their lives like Kenzi and Raquel did for Lunette?
Lately, he’d found himself wanting to reach out to them, to see how his nieces and nephews were doing. To find out if Clint was still with Sarah—they fought all the time, and he’d wondered how much longer they’d be together. He hoped they were. Hoped they’d figured out what was important enough to fight over and what wasn’t.
He twisted his thoughts away from his missing family and focused on Kenzi. “That’s good, then, that she wants help. You’ve been hoping for that to happen.”
“It’s not the kind of help she needs. It’s a good start, but the minute stress enters her life, she’ll be right back to her coping habits.” She glanced down at Hattie again. “Maybe this time it will stick—right?”
“Maybe.” Nash didn’t hold out much hope in the wake of Kenzi’s doubts. But he wouldn’t be the one to tell her she was wrong. That would make him a hypocrite. He had changed and lived every day to prove it. Maybe Lunette would find that place inside of herself that would give her the determination to overcome her addiction. “So, where are we going?”
The buildings and apartment complexes had faded away behind them as the white-walled tires chewed up the road. For an old clunker, the truck traveled surprisingly smooth on the freeway.
“No way. I’m not telling you until we’re there.” She exited the interstate and made a left.
Nash rolled down his window, the air feeling cooler and cleaner here than in the city. Kenzi followed his example and shut off the air. It wasn’t so much an air conditioner as it was a fan.
They passed through a small town with run-down brick storefronts and a drive-up burger joint. “That’s Peaches. We’ll have to stop in there sometime this weekend.”
“Looks good.” Smelled good, too. The scent of freshly grilled burgers teased his senses. They’d eaten dinner before they left the mansion. Cook Jackie insisted Hattie would eat better if she ate at home. Kenzi obliged, since she’d had to throw together a weekend bag for the child and they had time. Hattie and Nash ate together while Kenzi packed. If she’d had dinner, he didn’t see her eat it. Maybe she was nervous. She tended to skip meals when her nerves were on alert.
He was feeling off-center as well. This whole going-away-together thing was more personal than their wedding. The fact that Kenzi was taking him somewhere that was special to her touched his heart. It also made him anxious. What if he didn’t live up to her expectations? He didn’t know if he could live with himself if he let her down.
Kenzi signaled a right-hand turn, and Nash dipped his head to read the metal arch constructed over a gravel road. “Front Porch Farm?”
Kenzi’s smile could have covered Texas. “This is our main supplier here in California.”
On the right-hand side of the road was a fenced pasture. Hundreds of black-and-white cows and a few brown-and-white cows milled about or lay down chewing their cud, their eyes heavy with the need for a nap. On the left was a field of corn as tall as the truck. “If you build it, he will come,” he whispered loudly.
Kenzi chuckled. “Don’t get lost in there; you may not find your way out.”
Once they cleared the corn, a yard opened up in front of them. The gravel driveway went right in front of the white clapboard house and kept on going. Behind the main house was a smaller one done in stucco and stone with a tiled roof. There was a patch of grass between them and small orchard with orange, lemon, and apple trees.
Beyond the second house was a patch of dirt about 200 feet wide, and then there was a milking barn. Nash had seen pictures of them on the company website. They were long and skinny and full of machinery and a stainless steel container to store the milk before pickup, which happened every day of the week, including weekends and holidays.
Beside the barn were corrals with more cows. Some were leaning through the feeder fence to grab a mouthful of hay; others ambled along and nosed their way toward the front. There were enough openings for all the animals in the pen to eat at once, but it seemed there were favored spots. To the left was a smaller building and two navy-blue grain silos reaching up to the heavens. On the other side of that was a pen for cows that looked like teenagers, with legs longer than they needed and bodies that were thinner than their parental counterparts.
Nearer to the smaller house was a pen attached to a barn where the calves stayed. Their yellow or blue ear tags were new and shiny, the numbers easy to read.
Kenzi parked near the front door of the main house and burst from the truck. She took a deep breath, putting her arms out to both sides and sucking in all the air she could gather.
Nash checked to make sure Hattie was still sleeping before he got out. He sniffed the air and found animals and dust and hay and the sweet smell of the corn baking in the sun and the fresh-cut grass and bread baking.
A mangy-looking mutt approached, his teeth bared. Nash backed up and ran into the truck. The dog limped two steps forward.
