Wrangled and Tangled by Lorelei James

keeper.”
    “If you’re partially responsible for her acting this way, then you better find her, Kyle, before I find you. And if you don’t get back to me within the hour, I’ll call the cops in Taos and have them track you both down. Hear me?”
    “Loud and clear.”
    Abe tossed his phone and braced his hands on the counter, trying not to panic.
    “What’s going on with Celia?” Janie said behind him.
    He whirled around. “Ah. Nothin’. I’m handling it.”
    “Not very well.” Janie shuffled closer. She’d wrapped herself in his old terrycloth bathrobe. Something loosened in his chest. He’d forgotten how she used to slip on his shirts and steal his socks and how much he’d loved it. “Talk to me, Abe.”
    Janie had always complained that Celia was a drama queen, and Abe wouldn’t put his sister in a bad light when she was so obviously hurting. “I was talkin’ to Celia, we got cut off and I called Kyle, who’s on the CRA tour with her, to check on her. He was a little reluctant. I insisted.”
    “I heard. Is Celia still following him around like a puppy?”
    Abe frowned. “What makes you say that?”
    “Oh come on. You had to’ve noticed. The way Celia was always chasing after Kyle. She adored him.”
    “I never noticed. All’s I remember is them fightin’ like crazy. Drove us all nuts.”
    “It was one-sided. Kyle never gave Celia a second glance. To add insult to injury, he treated her like a pesky little sister just like you and Hank did.”
    “Well, it’s a good damn thing he didn’t act on her signals or I’da strung Kyle up, family friend or not. He’s too goddamn old for Celia.”
    Janie lifted a brow in that annoying, imperious way of hers. “Seven years is a gap when she was eleven and he was eighteen. But now that she’s twenty-four and he’s thirty-one? Not such a big age difference.” She stood on her tiptoes and tried to peer into the big soup pot. “Whatcha cooking?”
    “Chicken noodle soup.”
    “Homemade?”
    “Yeah.” Abe dumped the noodles into a strainer in the sink. “Bet you thought I’d never learn to cook.”
    “I figured you’d marry a proper ranch wife, who’d gladly whip up hearty meals for you three times a day and you’d never have to learn.”
    “How long did you give me before I remarried?” he asked lightly.
    “Six months.”
    He shook the noodles with extra force. “I must’ve been a real asshole if you believed I’d need so little time to mourn our marriage, Janie.”
    “At the time, I didn’t think either of us would mourn the end of it.”
    You were wrong. I mourned that loss longer than I did the loss of my parents. Not that he’d admit such a thing to her or anyone else. He said, “Watch out,” and carried the noodles to the soup pot. “We’ll be ready to eat in about five.”
    “I’ll set the table. Where are you keeping bowls these days?”
    “Middle cupboard.”
    “I knew you’d change things back to the way your mother had arranged them after I left,” she accused.
    “Another thing you’re wrong about. Lainie made changes when she moved in. I’ve never cared where the dishes were just as long as I could find them.”
    She set the bowls on the woven placemats. “Were these Lainie’s?”
    “The placemats? No, those are mine. Couldn’t stand the frilly ones so I bought some that weren’t so damn girly.” He plopped the pot in the middle of the table next to a box of crackers. His cell vibrated on the counter and he snatched it, growling, “You’d better have good news for me, Gilchrist.”
    “I found her.”
    Abe sagged into the chair. “Thank you. How is she?”
    “Besides drunk as a damn skunk? Now she’s mad as hell too. She took a swing at me.”
    “I hope you ducked.”
    “Her aim is a little off, but she wasn’t exactly aiming for my face.”
    Considering the snarl in Kyle’s tone, Abe held back his chuckle. Then he heard Celia in the background. “Is that Abe?”
    Kyle said, “Yeah. Didja