But wants weren’t needs, and what she needed was exactly the opposite of all these reckless, selfish desires. She needed stability and security, for herself just as much as for her daughter. Another encounter with Casey offered none of that. Offered nothing except excitement and a fleeting imitation of comfort, and desires like those had brought her nothing but ruin, again and again.
“The flesh is weak,” whispered a voice from her past. “The flesh is weak so the resolve must be steadfast. To give in to our animal natures is to turn our backs on the Lord, to trade our very souls for a taste of the Devil’s wares. And those wares do not nourish; no, they do not. The wants of the flesh lead us only to poison.”
It was all such bullshit—every fear-mongering, sex-shaming word she’d been fed, growing up.
Except was it, really, when her past mistakes really had poisoned her life?
It has to be bullshit. If Mercy came out of one of those mistakes, there’s no way it can be true.
Unless Abilene lost her, somehow. Unless that was the real punishment she’d earned herself—
“Hey,” Casey said, leaning in, catching her eye. “You all right?”
She blinked, escaping her thoughts. “Yeah. Sorry. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
“No doubt. But you don’t need to worry about what happened between us, okay? You can set that one aside. We had a moment, it was a little fucked, but also nice, and that’s all it has to be. Okay?”
“Okay.” Abilene swallowed, forced herself to believe that he was right, that it had been nothing more than a little effed but also nice. He made it sound so easy to set aside.
“Effed, and nice,” she agreed. “And it was nice—nice to feel that way again, if only for a few minutes.” She’d forgotten how much her body could feel, with a man. For a year now, she’d set all that aside and turned her physical self over to the baby’s needs, and undoubtedly for the best. Though now she’d tasted that again . . . the memory of it lingered on her tongue, deepening to a craving.
And how unfair that people’s greatest cravings so often made them sick, gave them heart disease or cancer, or left them addicted. There was a lesson in that. One she’d been needing to learn for years. She heard the baby fussing from the den and went to fetch her, setting her up in her collapsible rocker beside the table.
She eyed the clock. “Better get to work on those eggs.”
“I’ll get a bottle going—she looks like she’ll be wanting one soon. And I can help out some more once the meeting wraps. I don’t have much on my plate today.”
“Thanks. You’re the best.” Way better than I deserve. Yet way more trouble than I need.
But she wanted him all the same. More than just about anything.
Chapter 8
Good job, Grossier, Casey thought as he turned bacon rashers over on the griddle, pleased with how the first half of his talk had gone with Abilene. You sounded like a stern-ass man there. Not some stammering, horny mess, like Monday night, barely able to hit the brakes. That was what she needed in her life right now—a decisive, firm, reliable man.
She needed Miah, basically, but Casey could fake it for the sake of the situation.
Miah and his dad strolled in soon, both dressed for work, and Don lingered long enough to fill a thermos and eat a test pancake before heading out on ranch business. Vince and Kim were next to arrive. Christine excused herself, and Abilene stuck around until Kim seemed to have gotten her fill of baby ogling.
“Better be careful,” Casey muttered to his brother, and nodded in his girlfriend’s direction. “You might be next.”
“Thanks to all the Mom-sitting she’s been doing, I think I’m safe for a few years, still. All Kim seems to fantasize about is travel.” His attention turned to the heaps of pancakes and eggs and bacon laid out on the table. “Goddamn. Tell your mom thanks, Miah.”
“Hey, I helped,” Casey said. “I did the bacon. And Abilene did the eggs.”
Raina and Duncan arrived last, a few minutes past six. Had to be Raina’s doing—Duncan would rather slam his dick in a door than be late for anything.