Her Passionate Plan B by Dixie Browning Page B

responsibility of having to be the one to decide what to trash and what to save, but then, that was why Egbert had asked her to do it. She’d known Harvey better than anyone in his latter days.
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    By late afternoon Daisy was exhausted and grimy up to her elbows. If Egbert wanted the old newspapers and periodicals cataloged along with the books, he could call in a librarian. As for the photo albums, unless Egbert objected, she intended to offer them to Kell. He could take them back to Oklahoma with him and resurrect a complete family history, real or imaginary.
    And no, she did not feel sorry for him, not one bit. At least he knew who his parents were. Evander and Lena, the half-Cherokee barrel racer who cooked something called bean bread. That was far more than she was ever likely to know about her own parents.
    A few minutes later she was standing by the refrigerator, drinking ice water straight from the container before washing and refilling it, when she heard Kell drive up. If she’d wanted to make a good impression on him—not that she particularly did—but if she had, this was hardly the way to do it.
    Painfully honest, Daisy admitted that in the back of her mind a plan had begun taking shape. By the time he returned, having finished the library, dusted under all the doodads in the parlor, she’d imagined herself relaxing on the side porch wearing something casual, but flattering. If he came close enough he might catch a hint of her Tea Rose body lotion, but nothing heavier. Perhaps a hint of blusher and tinted lip balm…
    Instead, a light rain was blowing in on the porch, she looked like Cinderella on a bad hair day and reeked of dust, furniture polish and Murphy’s Oil Soap. So much for best-laid plans.
    â€œThere you are.” Kell poked his head into the kitchen, his hair and tanned face gleaming with moisture. He reminded her of one of those sports car advertisements that always showed some flashy guy racing along a winding road at a hundred miles an hour with the top down. All he lacked was a pair of aviator shades.
    â€œYou look like you’ve had a successful day.” The observation sounded snide even to her own ears.
    â€œYep, sure did.” One more eye-twinkling grin, Daisy thought, and she’d buy him a damned sports car herself and tell him where he could road test it. The Himalayas came to mind.
    â€œFine. Me, too.” She set the water container in the sink, added a drop of detergent and turned on the tap.
    â€œHad supper yet? I found this service station that has a deli on the side not too far down the road.” He draped his damp leather jacket on a chair back, then thought better of it and hung it in the utility room.
    Supper? She hadn’t even had lunch, not that she intended to admit it. The last thing she needed was for him to offer to feed her when she was obviously in a weakened condition. “Late lunch,” she lied. “If you’re hungry there might be a few cans of soup left in the pantry.”
    He was staring at the boxes she had lugged out into the hall, planning to load them in her car once the rain stopped. “What’s all this?” he asked, pointing to the stack with the toe of his left boot.
    And that was another thing, she fumed. Boots like that were purely an affectation on anyone who didn’t ride, and there wasn’t a horse in sight. “Stuff to go,” she said. “Some to the dump, some to the thrift shop.”
    â€œAnything I might be interested in seeing first?”
    â€œI doubt it. I left the photo albums on the table in the library. If you’re interested, I’d appreciate it if you’d go through them and take whatever you want, because I’m hauling the rest away first thing tomorrow.”
    He waited two clicks and then said, “Got a headache, have we?”
    â€œNo, we do not have a headache.” She did. It had come on the moment he’d strolled into the