““I’m coming! Hold your horses,” a male voice called from behind the front door. Guy shifted the box of bulky plumbing supplies to his left arm and stuffed his right hand into the front pocket of his store apron to deposit his keys. He glanced toward the driveway where he’d parked the Hearth and Home truck. He’d planned to bring the purchase by after church the previous day but his phone calls had gone unanswered. Since he’d concluded Abby and her father must be spending all their time at the ho...spital, he was surprised to get a response when he’d punched the doorbell three times in quick succession. The door creaked open an inch but no face appeared. Guy squinted to see inside the dark house. “Down here, drugstore cowboy,” the aggravated voice grumbled an obvious reference to the fancy boots. Guy glanced down, his gaze locking with dark eyes beneath an overhang of bushy gray brows. Abby’s father. Guy estimated the man to be in his late seventies, but the long, thin body sunken into the inexpensive low-slung wheelchair could have made him look older than his years.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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