Tucker's Crossing. Marina Adair

started. “I thought I made myself pretty clear, all employees were to attend.”

      “I reckon you did.” She brushed off his attempt at having some kind of conversation the same way she would a pesky fly. “Now, sit yourself down and have some of my lemon icebox pie.”

      Cody, who hadn’t made it past the doorway yet, gathered up all the patience he had, and headed toward the table. This was going to be as bad as coming home. But maybe a slice of pie would help it all go down a little easier.

      “Don’t you be thinking just ’cuz you’re all grown up and in that ridiculous shirt of yours that you can be walking on my scrubbed floors with those boots.”

      “What’s wrong with my shirt?” Cody said, feeling a headache coming on. One that would last, oh, say twelve months. But he toed off one boot, then the other, leaving them on the designated mat by the door.

      “Besides looking like you’re here to sell me Jesus?” One hand planted sternly on each rounded hip, she eyed his ensemble, which now that Cody thought about it did look ridiculous, especially since he was certain that by now a few dozen calloused cowboys had heard he’d elected himself the new foreman.

      “I meant what I said out there, and don’t pretend that you didn’t hear. I saw your little head peek out from behind the barn.”

      “Are you calling me a snoop?”

      “If the shoe fits. And the last thing I want to do is let you go, but Noah and I agree we don’t want anyone around that was here when Beau was a kid. We want him to have a clean slate with this place.”

      “And you think letting me go will solve your problems? You and I both know you ain’t never letting Beau come back here. You’re so busy controlling everyone’s lives and trying to make up for your daddy that . . .” Luella faded off, and set her spoon on the counter. “Listen to me, son.”

      “Dammit, Luella. I’m not a boy anymore.”

      “Then stop acting like one. At least for JT’s sake. Men don’t run from their pasts. They chase it, rope it, take it to the ground, and hog-tie it.” Luella stepped into Cody’s space, punching at him with her pudgy finger.

      What the hell? She knew about Jake?

      “Lulu.”

      “And don’t you Lulu me!” She crossed back to the stove and opened the upper cupboard, taking out a pair of handcuffs. “I remember when you were no bigger than a turd. Then your mama died and you walked around like all the problems of the world were yours to fix.”

      Before Cody could get to her side, Lulu shackled the cuffs to one plump hand, snaked the chain through the oven handle and secured it with a loud snap to the other hand.

      “Well, I ain’t nobody’s problem! And I ain’t yours to fix, you hear me? This here is my home and you and your brothers are going to have to pull my body from this here stove kicking and a-screaming if you want me gone.”

      “What the hell are you doing?” Cody yanked at the cuffs. They didn’t budge.

      “It’s called a sit-in. And watch your mouth before I wash it out.”

      Cody grinned. “And just how do you reckon you’ll manage to do that, being attached to the oven and all?”

      “Oh, I have my ways, Cody Tucker. I have my ways.” Luella plopped her backside on a chair she had placed next to the stove. “Now you get out of my kitchen. You got me so riled I’m getting the hives.”

      “This is funny as all get-out, but I can’t leave you here cuffed to the stove.” He fiddled with the handcuffs. Not only were they the real deal, but they also weren’t coming off anytime soon. “Where’s the key?”

      “You just want them keys so you can throw me out. Do I have ‘stupid’ plastered across my forehead?”

      “Throwing a fit isn’t going to make a difference. I’ve already made my mind up, and no matter how hard this is, you have to go.”

      Luella grabbed a fork off the counter and jabbed it into Cody’s hand—hard.

      “Ow!”

      “Well, that’s what you get. And you can tell that cheating Viola McKinney, her plan didn’t work.” Ms. Luella pulled back the fork and stabbed him again, even harder.

      Cody groaned audibly and yanked the fork out of her hands. “Enough!”

      “You’re telling me!” She jerked her head toward the stove. “Get a spoon and try that there in the pot.”

      Cody rubbed his hand and, noting that a bruise was already forming, did as told, knowing she wouldn’t listen until she had been heard and he’d been fed. He reached for the wooden spoon and . . .

      “Don’t you even think about touching my lucky spoon; you know better.” He did. Ms. Luella’d had that spoon since before he could remember and no one, not even Silas, was allowed to touch it. “Get a spoon from the drawer like a civilized person and see why you ain’t kicking me out. The Summer Sweet Spectacular cook-off is mine to win this year.”

      “Hang on,” Cody said, ignoring the chili for the moment. “You think this is about the damn cook-off?” Would things in Sweet Plains ever change? “Let me get this straight, you think I fired all those men as a cover-up to get you out of my kitchen?”

      “To hear you say it breaks my heart. And yes, Viola McKinney knows my stove’s been acting up.” Ms. Luella lifted the side of her apron and dabbed at the corners of her very dry eyes. “Now get out before I start crying.”

      “But—”

      “I said get!”

      Cody shook his head, completely at a loss. “Have it your way, but this isn’t over.” He paused, hating to see her shackled to an appliance, which was probably her goal. “You sure you don’t want me to uncuff you? I won’t make you leave tonight.”

      Luella threw a wet dishrag at him. Good thing his reflexes were faster than her aim.

      “You’re forgetting something. The only person in this world more stubborn than you is me. And I’m winning that blue ribbon this year.” Ms. Luella pointed an accusing finger at him. “Now grab that piece of pie on the table and eat up. You’re looking a little thin for my taste. How’re you going to catch the eye of that pretty Ms. Shelby looking like a starved longhorn?”

      Cody looked down at his hundred and ninety pounds of tight muscle and laughed. But he’d been dreaming about Ms. Lulu’s lemon icebox pie for nearly fifteen years. Maybe just a bite. Plus, it would give him a chance to ask a few questions.

      “So, about Shelby Lynn’s son, what’s he like?”

      “Just like you, only smaller. And with manners.”

      Cody realized he was standing with a plate in his hand and took a seat. “I think he already hates me.”

      Ms. Luella’s gray eyes softened. “He’s a sweet boy. Confused and scared and wondering if you’ll like him. If he’ll like you. Had a hard time of it in his short life. And so has his mama, so you’d better be nice to her or you’ll answer to me.”

      “I keep telling you, Lulu, you won’t be here long enough for anyone to answer to.”

      Not wanting to hear anything else about how hard Shelby had had it while she was keeping his son from him, Cody grabbed the fork that Ms. Luella had stabbed him with, and tucked into the piece of pie she’d laid out. This didn’t mean a truce—he would get her out of there—but he might as well enjoy the pie first.

      He stuck the first bite in and paused, closing his eyes to savor the moment. The tangy lemon bit at his tongue while the creamy confection melted in his mouth and the faint hint of . . . what the hell?

      Swallowing down the need to gag, Cody ran to the sink and spit out the entire contents of his mouth and