Page 59 of Love Wells Kept

“Especially when the ‘pond’ you pulled it from is probably mostly cow pee.” Blair laughs.

Odessa glances at her hands and quickly wipes them on her pants. “Well…Rainbow Sparkles needs a place to live. Oh, I’ll put her in the bathtub with clean water.”

“You will not.” I make a mental note to double-check all tubs and sinks before bed tonight. “How about an old ice cream pail? We have a couple clean ones in the pantry.”

She thrusts the water bottle into Blair’s hand and heads straight for the pantry.

“Girls in STEM.” Blair jostles the water bottle, holding it directly in front of her face to track down the elusive tadpole somewhere in the mingling rainwater, cow urine—probably shit, too, if we’re being honest—and mud. “I love it. Maybe one day she’ll be in the clinic with me.”

I chuckle. “Whether she’ll be there as a patient or a doctor remains to be seen.”

“Probably both.” Cecily shrugs, reaching across the table with a groan to grab a box of crackers the kids opened earlier. “At least that’ll be convenient.”

There’s a kerfuffle inside the large walk-in, with the metal twang of crashing pots and pans, followed by the faint sound of Odessa assuring us she’s okay.

“Definitely both,” Cecily corrects herself.

Laughter hums through the kitchen, warming my bones. Moments later, Odessa saunters out from the pantry with a white pail tucked under her arm. She lets out a giant exhale that makes the hair fallen loose from her ponytail flutter against her forehead.

The plastic rings hollow when she plunks it onto the kitchen table and makes a grabby hand in the general direction of Blair. “Lady Rainbow Sparkles, please.”

Cassidy makes an impressed face. “Oh, now she has an official title.”

“Princess Lady Rainbow Penelope Sparkles,” Odessa deadpans. “The third.”

“Oh, good. She brought home two tadpoles none of us knew about before this one.” Beryl snickers, slowly rising from her seat and giving Odessa’s hair a loving pet on her way to check on the simmering chili. Evidently she doesn’t trust my stirring abilities today.

Blair hands over the water bottle, peering into the bucket as Odessa slowly dumps the questionable liquid into it.

“You’re sure there was a tadpole in here?” Blair leans in closer, pulling a face at the smell emanating from the water.

“Yes.” Odessa reaches in and stirs the muck around with her hand, much to the utter disgust and objection of her aunts. “I know she was in here. I saw her.”

Sipping my coffee, I pad across the kitchen and peek into Odessa’s science experiment. “Dess, I think you have an escaped tadpole. All I see floating in that water are bits of mud and dead grass.”

“I need to go rescue her from the puddle.”

“Not in this rain—you’ll catch a cold,” Beryl says.

I brush Odessa’s rain-dampened hair behind her ear. “Sorry, baby. Take this as a sign that she was happy in the puddle and wanted to stay there.”

Her small shoulders fall, but she quickly recovers. “I’m gonna find Clementine and see if she wants to have a tea party.”

With that, she abandons her concoction of mud and cow shit, skipping out of the kitchen. After a lot of ups and downs since Jackson’s accident, I’m glad to see she’s back to her normal self, causing chaos across the ranch and fretting over all the animals nobody else around here pays any mind to.

I grab the white pail and head for the back door to toss the sludge off the porch. Based on the stench of the water, that water bottle of hers can go straight in the trash.

When I reenter the kitchen, Jackson’s there. For the second time in recent weeks, he’s wearing jeans and a fitted T-shirt. He’s standing at the island with a glass of water, looking at me in a way he hasn’t since before his brain injury. Even with other people in the room, the air between us crackles with attraction.

His eyes flick to my lips, holding there while I slowly lick them. Butterflies pilfer my chest and heat washes over my cheek.

“Hey,” I say softly, stepping closer.

My hands shake, tightening around the handle of the pail to keep from dropping it. Once it’s in the oversized kitchen sink, I press my palm flat to the counter to steady myself. Not because I’m panicking over his therapy session or any of the things that have been commandeering my every thought all day. The intensity of his gaze, and the light-wash denim paired with a thin cotton shirt pulled across his upper body, has me feeling like I’m twenty again and secretly crushing on Jackson Wells.

My hip presses into the counter next to where he’s standing. “How did it go?”

“Good.” An affectionate smile curves his full lips. “I’m…good. Want to, uh…” He glances at the other women in the room, who are doing a great job of pretending to mind their business, sitting around the kitchen table and talking quietly among themselves. “Want to sit on the swing?”