by Lori Wilde
One eyebrow shot up high on her forehead. “Oh, no, Carmody, you’re not about to weasel yourself back into my life.”
“There you go, jumping to conclusions. I can see you’re still the same old Daisy.” Irritation snapped through Kael. He’d forgotten just how hardheaded this flame-haired woman could be. “I have absolutely no intentions of pursuing you.”
Daisy folded her arms over her chest.
Irritation transformed into something darker, deeper. Memories. Swallowing his angry words, Kael met her stare.
Daisy didn’t even blink. She leaned over the seat and pulled out grocery sacks and set them on the ground outside his truck.
“I’ll get those.” He opened the door and walked around the pickup.
“I can unload my own groceries.”
She was one tough cookie. He had to give her that. But even the hardest of cookies crumbled under the right conditions.
“I want to help. Let me pay for having the green monster repaired.”
“No way. It’s not your problem.”
“Daisy, I care.” He reached out a hand to touch her, but she shook him off.
“You don’t owe me anything, Kael.”
“I was hoping to be your friend,” he whispered, realizing that was true. If he couldn’t have her as his girlfriend, then he’d settle for anything to be near her.
“You and I could never be just friends, Kael.” She slammed the pickup door, and the sound echoed the finality of her statement.
“Daisy.”
“Please,” she said, her eyes filling with pain, and it killed him because he knew that he was the reason for her suffering. “Do us both a favor and stay out of my life.”
Chapter Three
DAISY’S CHEST HURT, and tears burned her eyes. Clutching two grocery sacks, she stumbled into the house.
“Mom?” Travis looked up from the kitchen table where he was eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
“Daisy?” Aunt Peavy wiped her plump hands on her apron then adjusted her thick glasses and peered at Daisy.
“I’m fine.” She gritted her teeth. Resting the sacks on the table, she spun on her heels and marched back outside for another load.
Thankfully, Kael’s pickup was halfway down the road, leaving a dust cloud in its wake. The setting sun glinted off the shiny chrome, announcing to the world at large that Kael had returned home to Rascal.
Her bottom lip trembled. Don’t you dare cry. Haven’t you shed enough tears over that man?
Swiping her hand under her nose to ward off the waterworks, she hefted the remaining sacks and trotted back inside.
“Are my poor old eyes deceiving me, or did I spy Kael in our driveway?”
“It was Kael,” Daisy confirmed with a sigh.
There was no mistaking the delight on her aunt’s wrinkled face. “Well, why didn’t you invite him inside, dear?”
“Auntie, I don’t want Kael getting any ideas.”
“That history is water under the bridge. No reason you and he can’t be friends.”
Oh, there was a great reason all right. It hurt too much to even sit next to him in the pickup cab much less see the man regularly.
Daisy didn’t respond. Instead, she stacked groceries into the pantry.
“I guess he came home to recover from that knee injury,” Aunt Peavy mused.
“I guess so,” Daisy muttered.
“He has a cool belt buckle,” Travis chimed in. “It’s gold and huge and has a picture of a cowboy riding a bull.”
“Kael’s a famous rodeo bull rider,” Aunt Peavy told him.
The boy’s eyes widened. “Really? Wow.”
Daisy didn’t like the way her son’s face lit up over Kael.
“Yes, and he got hurt badly climbing up on those bulls,” Daisy said.
“I wish I could watch him.” Travis chewed his sandwich, a dab of purple jelly smeared across his cheekbone.
“Kael’s bull riding days are over.” The wistful feeling wafted through Daisy surprised her. Even though Kael’s career had torn them apart, she knew how much the rodeo had meant to him. She could only guess at how awful he must feel, cut off from the thing he loved most.
Darn it, why did she have to live next door to the man?
Running a hand through her hair, she hoped Kael wouldn’t be staying in Rascal for long. Surely his wanderlust would soon take over and he’d leave.
Just as he had seven years ago.
Except this time there was no dream to chase.
“Daisy?”
She blinked and stared at Aunt Peavy. “Beg your pardon? I wasn’t listening.”
“What are we going to do about the green monster?’
“I don’t know.”
She rubbed her throbbing temple again. Her responsibilities were never ending—always a crisis to handle, finances to fret over, a figurative fire to put out.
The past winter, she’d battled a bad bout of foulbrood that infected the apiary. She’d lost hundreds of thousands of bees in that outbreak. Also, the recent drought had decreased the number of flowering plants and affected honey quality. Her colonies were the weakest they’d ever been. Recouping her losses would take over a year or more.
“How will Travis get to school in the morning?” Aunt Peavy asked.
“He’ll take the bus, and I’ll see if Keegan can give me a tow to Willie’s garage in the morning,” she said, referring to the neighbor that bordered the back of the property.
“I’ve got a little money stashed away,” Aunt Peavy offered. “It’s not much, but it’ll help pay for repairs.”
“But that’s your Christmas money,” Daisy protested.
“It’s only May. I’ll have plenty of time to save more cash for Christmas.”
Daisy mulled over the idea. She hated taking money from her aunt, but right now she had little choice. They had to have a vehicle and borrowing from Aunt Peavy was preferable to accepting help from Kael.
DOWN IN THE DUMPS JUST about covered the way Kael was feeling. Seeing Daisy again yesterday afternoon had done nothing to ease his unhappiness. In fact, it was painfully obvious he’d made a bad choice seven years ago. He’d picked bull riding over love, and now he had neither and a bum leg to boot.
His parents were throwing a party in his honor, and he wanted nothing more than to escape. He remembered now why he hadn’t come back to Rascal before. The memories were just too painful. Over the years he would either visit his parents at their condo on Padre Island or they saw him on the rodeo circuit.
Until the accident, he’d had no desire to return home. Glancing over his shoulder at the rambling ranch house where he’d grown up, Kael hitched in a heavy sigh.
Music blared from the windows. Dozens of cars parked in the driveway and around the side of the house. The smell of barbecue lingered in the air, but he wasn’t hungry.
No one seemed to notice he’d slipped away from his own welcome home party. After fielding a million questions about his injury and his failed career, he’d tolerated as much
autograph signing and backslapping as he could muster, then he’d mumbled something about getting fresh air, grabbed a beer from the cooler, and disappeared outside.
He went to the barn and stripped the protective tarp off his motorcycle. The vehicle looked as fresh and new as the day he’d bought it. One of the ranch hands fired it up periodically and performed the minimum maintenance required.
He’d purchased the Harley with money from his first PBR win.
Dang! He wanted to ride the powerful motorcycle, to feel the hard metal between his legs, the wind rushing through his hair, the engine vibrating throughout his body.
Yet another experience the accident had robbed from him.
Except it hadn’t been an accident. He’d willingly climbed upon that wild Brahma. Had proudly strutted his way to the chute.
He had risked his health, his future, for the glory of the moment. At the time, he hadn’t regretted it. Back here in Rascal with Daisy still nursi
ng a grudge right next door, Kael held a whole new respect for regret.
But there was nothing he could do to change the past, and right this minute, he wanted to ride that Harley so badly he could taste it. Kael tilted his head and eyed the motorcycle. What could it hurt? A ten-minute run through the pasture.
His leg throbbed like a son of a gun, but he didn’t care.
What did he have to lose? Jutting out his chin, Kael walked the motorcycle from the barn. His hands caressed the glossy finish, and he straddled the seat.
You could make your leg worse.
The thought floated through his mind, but he pushed it aside. How could things possibly be worse?
Heck, he should live it up while he had a chance. He’d discovered the hard way that life was far too short, and that nothing, but nothing, could remain the same.
The rebellious streak that had been a part of him since childhood egged Kael on. It was that wild streak that had driven him to seek his fortune riding bulls. The same streak that had prodded him to make a name for himself and prove to the world he was more than Chet Carmody’s pampered son.
Desperate to blur the hurt stirred up by Daisy’s rejection, Kael kick-started the motorcycle and ignored the pain shooting up his leg.
A familiar thrill rumbled through him. A thrill he hadn’t experienced since New Year’s Day when the Texas Tornado had tromped him into the arena dirt.
Kael gunned the machine and started off across the dry pasture.
Even though it was early May, the drought had already taken a toll on the withered grassland. Long stalks that should have been bright green were parched yellow instead. Grasshoppers leaped from beneath his tires as he blasted across the field. The sun beat down, hot and relentless.
Sweat trickled down the hollow of Kael’s throat. Grass slapped against his thighs. His left knee ached, but he ignored the discomfort. He wanted to ride fast enough to eradicate Daisy from his mind.
Increasing his speed, Kael traveled along the fence line dividing his parents’ property from Daisy’s. The smell of honey mingled with the scent of white clover and alfalfa.
He roared through the alfalfa field, stirring up honey bees as he went. His parents had been watering the crop, otherwise Daisy’s bees would have had little to feed upon.
Daisy’s bees.
Kael briefly shut his eyes and swallowed. He saw her standing before him, covered in bees, a smile on her face, honeycomb dripping from her hand. She’d been sixteen to his eighteen, and she had smitten him.
She’d been so brave, so fearless. Just like he was on a bull’s back. It was only later that she taught him the secret that allowed her to stick her hand into the hive without being stung.
He’d never known another woman like her.
Not before, not since.
Daisy was one of a kind. She accepted no excuses, made no allowances for herself or anyone else. When her parents died, she’d taken over running the honey farm without a misstep. She harnessed herself to hard work and responsibility like a horse to a plow.
Exactly his opposite. Responsibility had always seemed like a prison to Kael. He recalled the words Daisy had hurled at him during their last fight. She’d called him a coward. Had she been right?
He’d told himself he was pursuing his dream, making his mark on the world and accepting the wanderlust that gripped him. Had he been running from commitment? Had his love for Daisy been so strong he feared the power and used bull riding as an excuse to escape the intensity of his feelings?
Stop thinking about the past.
Kael gunned the motorcycle, revving the engine higher, faster, until the alfalfa flashed before him, a yellow blur.
The sun scorched his skin, the ground, the air.
Sparks flew from the exhaust.
Bees circled, irritated by his maneuvering.
Kael swung the Harley in a wide circle and made another pass through the alfalfa. Perspiration coated his whole body, and he reveled in the sensation. Dirt, sweat, dust, speed. It reminded him of the rodeo.
A white cloud rose from the fodder field.
Kael narrowed his eyes and frowned. What the heck?
Smoke.
No mistaking the odor.
The cloud billowed and spiraled, spreading quickly throughout the tall hay.
Panic, hard and sudden, slammed into Kael’s stomach.
Sparks from the exhaust must have caught the pasture on fire! Stunned, he pulled his Harley to a stop, idled the engine, and watched.
The air filled with frantic bees, diving, swarming, buzzing in a thousand directions desperate to escape the fire, but smoke dulled them.
Daisy’s bees! They couldn’t take prolonged exposure to the intense heat. His heart dropped.
Bright orange flames licked at the alfalfa, rising higher.
Kael stared in horror as the bees struggled to keep flying then, bunch by bunch, tumbled headlong from the sky.
Oh, Lord, what had he done?
“DO YOU SMELL SOMETHING?” Aunt Peavy asked, her nose twitching as she sniffed the air.
“No.” Daisy studied the ledger spread out before her. She was sitting on the back porch, taking advantage of the noonday shade offered by the awning, while Aunt Peavy watered her flowers.
Taking a sip of fresh-squeezed lemonade, Daisy frowned at the book. Unfortunately, figures didn’t lie. Hightower Honey Farm was in serious financial straits.
If they scrimped and saved and nothing unforeseen happened, they could survive this disastrous season. But just barely.
By winter, if she were very careful, she might have enough money to purchase a few new bee colonies.
“I definitely smell smoke,” Aunt Peavy insisted. “The Lord might have given me poor eyesight, but he made up for it by blessing me with a strong sniffer. Take a deep whiff, Daisy. It’s not my imagination.”
To humor her aunt, Daisy laid down her ledger and inhaled deeply. “Auntie, I don’t—” She stopped short.
Hmm, there was an acrid scent in the air. It wasn’t surprising if something had caught fire considering the prolonged drought and the relentless heat.
“You think somebody’s burning trash?”
“Surely not. There’s been a county burn ban on for three weeks.”
Aunt Peavy paused to switch off the water hose. “It’s close,” she whispered. “Real close.”
Daisy dropped the ledger and sprang to her feet. Shading her eyes with her hand, she scanned the horizon.
There. South. Toward the Carmody ranch. A smoke column chugged skyward.
Aunt Peavy was right. The fire was close. Right in the Carmodys’ alfalfa field which bordered her apiary. The bees loved pollinating the sweet fodder. This time of day, the bees would be out collecting nectar.
Sudden fear flooded her body, bathing Daisy in a cold sweat.
Not the bees!
Her knees swayed. No. She couldn’t panic. Clenching her jaw, she started across the yard, her legs churning as she ran.
Please God, don’t let the bees get hurt.
A fire engine wailed in the distance. Her pulse galloped, and her eyes glued to the sky. She saw a heavy swarm converge high above the alfalfa field.
Fly home, fly home, she silently urged, but in her heart, she knew it was too late. The bees were too near the heat.
The closer she got, the thicker the smoke grew. Daisy coughed, tasting exhaust fumes. Her side ached, and her eyes burned.
The swarm appeared shaky. They weaved and dipped as if they were having difficulty flying.
Anxiety had her biting down on her knuckles. This could not be happening!
The fire engines drew closer, the plaintive wail growing louder, stressing Daisy’s anguish.
She reached the fence separating her property from the Carmodys’ place. Gripping the fence post in both hands, Daisy stared at the fire crackling just three hundred yards away.
The blaze licked hungrily at the alfalfa stalks, progressing steadily northward toward her land
and her beloved bees.
Helplessly, she watched as her bees tried to form swarms but got caught in the heated updrafts. They circled sluggishly then disappeared into the thickening smoke.
No, no, no!
It doomed her bees, and she knew it. Daisy moaned and clasped her hands to her ears, trying hard to deny the carnage occurring before her eyes.
Her nose burned. Her throat felt raw and swollen. She coughed and blinked.
A figure emerged from the smoke. A man. Beating the flames with a blanket. Daisy squinted and coughed again.
Kael.
Daisy crawled over the fence. Ducking her head, she edged closer to the inferno. Heat waves shimmered in front of her face. The fire snapped and rustled. The air exploded with the odor of burning alfalfa.
“Daisy!” Kael shouted.
She looked up.
“Go back.” He waved her away. His face was red and covered in soot.
“It’s useless.” She reached out and grabbed his shirt, pulling him backward. “Stop before you get hurt.”
A grim expression marred his handsome features, and Daisy suppressed the urge to hug him. Why did she have this crazy desire to comfort him?
Kael would lose nothing more than alfalfa harvest. And with his money, that was a drop in the bucket, whereas she had lost her bees and her entire livelihood.
He tugged away. “I’ve got to put out the fire. It’s killing your bees.”
“Too late,” she replied.
Sweat mingled with the soot on his face, streaking his cheek black. He clutched the battered horse blanket in one hand and stared desolately at the widening area of destruction.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.
“It’s not your fault,” she soothed.
“Kael! Daisy!”
Shouts drew their attention behind them. A mob of people, including Kael’s parents, ran toward them. A quarter of a mile away, the volunteer fire truck turned into the Carmodys’ driveway.
The wind changed and blew smoke into their faces. Daisy coughed continuously.
“Come on, let’s get back.” Kael took her elbow and propelled her toward the gathering crowd several feet behind them.
She leaned against his chest, and he brushed the hair from her face. She blinked and peered at the people surrounding them.
