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“Please don’t fire me. I’ll tell my mother—”
Zeke held up a hand, cutting the kid off. If he could just have a little more time with Agatha before Thomas confessed everything, maybe Agatha would consider staying in Copper Creek for good. She could find additional family here—with him. “Don’t go spilling the beans on my account. I’m sure there’s a reason you kept this information from your mother.”
Thomas nodded but didn’t divulge the information.
“Whatever that reason is, it isn’t any of my business. Whatever relationship you have with your mother is between the two of you. I would suggest, however, that you ease her concerns by telling her something with at least a degree of truth. Otherwise, I’m never going to hear the end of it for the next week.”
Zeke rubbed his hand along the stubble on his face and shot one more look toward Thomas before he brushed past him. He prayed this wasn’t going to bite him when it inevitably came full circle. Truly, this little secret wasn’t his business. Agatha probably wouldn’t have even wanted him to have this conversation with her son in the first place.
That truth alone was enough to help him push the concern to the side. He still had time with her before everything would come out. And if he worked fast, then she wouldn’t have to worry about her son moving back to the city.
He glanced at his watch, noting he’d be late for breakfast if he didn’t head out to the cabin in the next five minutes. And that wasn’t something he was willing to risk. With a whistle on his lips, Zeke headed over to his ATV and started the engine. He couldn’t wait to pull that woman into his arms and kiss her like he’d never see her again. That was the kind of thing a man did when he was in love.
There. He’d admitted it.
Zeke Callahan had fallen in love again.
And her name was Agatha Birch.
20
Agatha
Agatha felt itchy all over. It wasn’t the regular kind of itch, like from a bug bite or an allergy. Something had shifted in her life, and not in a good way.
Well, there were good things shifting as well. Zeke’s kind eyes had fed her dreams all night long, and if it weren’t for the concerns she had over Thomas’s lies, she might have been humming a little tune as she got breakfast ready for the two of them.
Thomas hadn’t called or checked in—though she realized he wouldn’t have done so if he was working anyway. That was why she couldn’t call him this morning to check in herself. He’d know she was on to him, and if he knew that, there was no telling where that conversation would go.
It could be an argument, or it might turn into something even worse. What if he piled onto the lies even more?
Smoke filled the room and she gasped as she stared down at the pan she’d been frying eggs in. She grabbed the handle and removed the pan from the small stove, but the smoke still filled the room.
Half expecting the smoke detectors to go off, she glanced around only to discover there were none. Well, that was concerning. What about forest fires?
She shook her head. There were more important things to worry about at this moment. The food was burning, the cabin was filling with the stench of smoke, Zeke would be arriving any moment for breakfast, and she still didn’t know what could prompt her son to lie to her after twenty years.
A knock on the door yanked her from her spiraling thoughts, which had tugged her down further and further.
Another knock.
Agatha lurched into action. “One second!” She grabbed a hand towel, then rushed for the window and flung it open before she whacked the rag through the air to force the smoke to leave the cabin.
Zeke’s muttered curse was easily heard through the open window, and the knob rattled. He knocked again, calling, “Agatha, open this door. Is everything okay?”
Heat seared her face. Shoot! His frantic calls might have been endearing if this wasn’t his own cabin and she hadn’t just burned his breakfast.
“I’m fine!” she called back. “Just got distracted.”
Keys jingled, and she shouldn’t have been surprised when he flung open the door and strode inside. He almost looked more like a hulking grizzly rather than the sweet cowboy from the night before. His eyes swept through the room, landing on the still-smoking pan of food. Without warning, he strode forward, grabbed the pan, and dumped its contents in the sink. With a flip of his hand, he started the water running. “What in heaven’s name happened here?”
Her blush only grew hotter. “I’m so sorry. I was cooking and I got distracted and—”
“You could have been hurt.”
She snapped her mouth shut.
“What if that fire had caught on something else?”
