Page 10 of DFF: Delicate Freakin' Flower
“You got it,” Benny said. “Does it smell funny?”
“Like overheated pride.”
The sun was dropping low behind the trees as I pulled into the ranch, casting a golden glow over the pastures and long shadows across the porch. Familiar and calm, not at all the setting for the kind of chaos that usually followed a Townsend-Rossi emergency.
I parked next to Drew’s truck, grabbed my go-bag from the passenger seat, and barely made it halfway across the gravel before the front door swung open.
There she was—red as hell and wearing a too-thin t-shirt with holes that betrayed every tragic tan line she’d earned today. Her hair was under a godawful red wig, and her glasses were slipping on her nose as she shot me a glare that could burn holes in steel.
She crossed her arms the second she saw me. “Not a word,” she warned.
I raised both hands. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Gabby narrowed her eyes. “I know you’re thinking something.”
“I said I wouldn’tsayanything, but that doesn’t mean I’m not thinking it.”
She groaned and turned back toward the house. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Right now, I do.”
“That’s fair.”
I followed her up the steps, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth despite everything. Gabby was sunburned, furious, dehydrated, and still throwing barbs like darts. Yeah, she was going to be just fine.
To be fair, calling her sunburned was being generous. She looked like someone who’d been microwaved, marinated in road dust, and set to simmer in shame for six hours. However, she still had that stubborn gleam in her eye when I sat her down on the porch and watched her take a large mouthful of her water.
“Sasha and the rest of your family areworried sick about you.”
She blinked behind those smudged glasses, tucked her knees up against her chest, and took another long, stalling sip.
“Look, I’m fine,” she said eventually, “really. I’m just avoiding a few... situations. Somedebt collectors. It’s nothing criminal, just aggressive phone calls and the occasional letter with a fake court stamp.”
I glanced over at Marcus, who leaned against the porch rail like he was watching an amateur theater production.
Gabby continued, her voice gaining confidence. “It’s mostly overblown, and I figured laying low for a while would help. You know, reset, reevaluate, maybe reorganize my finances?—”
“—from a ranch in the middle of nowhere,” I finished.
“It’squiet,” she agreed. “Who chases down someone with a warrant to ahorse ranch?”
I stared at her, not letting on that I was onto her bullshit.
She pressed on, clearly committed to the story. “I can cook, and I’ll help with chores. I just needed somewhere to catch my breath, just for a little while. A few days. A week, max.”
Marcus hadn’t moved, and I could tell he was enjoying this.
When she finally wrapped up, looking somewhat proud of her performance, I leaned in, elbows on my knees, and gave her a sympathetic nod.
“That sounds awful,” I said softly. “I mean that. Just... wow.”
Her face relaxed just a bit.
“And so smart of you,” I added. “Proactive, even.”
She smiled, relieved.
