McKettrick's Heart Read Online Free PDF

His neck was a little flushed.
    Psyche strained to kiss his cheek and gave voice to an earlier thought. “I should have married you, Keegan McKettrick.”
    He smiled. “I tried to tell you,” he teased.
    â€œSit down so I can serve this lunch,” Florence blustered, uncomfortable with all the emotion. “I been slaving in that kitchen all morning long.”
    Keegan chuckled, drew back the chair next to Psyche’s and sat.
    Florence brought in a tureen of chilled avocado soup and a platter of biscuits first, then one of her complicated and patently delicious salads. In the meantime, Keegan popped the top on the bottle of vintage champagne chilling in the center of the table and poured some into Psyche’s flute, then his own.
    â€œAmbrosia,” Psyche said after taking a sip.
    Keegan raised an eyebrow. “Are you supposed to have alcohol with your medication?” he asked.
    Psyche laughed and toasted him before raising the glass to her lips again. After swallowing, she retorted cheerfully, “The stuff could kill me.”
    Keegan’s smile was gentle, but his eyes were moist. “That’s not funny,” he said.
    Psyche reached out and clasped his hand, but just for a moment. She still had some pride, and it was bad enough letting her childhood sweetheart see her as an invalid without his feeling her bony fingers and tremulous grasp. “Yes, it is,” she argued. “And don’t you dare feel sorry for me, Keegan McKettrick. I could not bear that.”
    After that, they ate. It gave them something to do, though Psyche suspected Keegan’s appetite was no better than her own, and he, like her, was just going through the motions. Neither of them would have hurt Florence’s feelings for the world.
    â€œI have a favor to ask of you,” Psyche said when they’d both given up and pushed their plates away.
    Keegan waited.
    Psyche suppressed an urge to lay a hand to his cheek, to tell him not to look so sad, that everything would be all right. Instead, she stared at the peonies for a long time, until they blurred into a misty mass of feathery white.
    â€œLucas is going to inherit a great deal of money,” she said finally. She sat up very straight and prayed Keegan wouldn’t interrupt, because it would take all she had to say what she had to say, and starting over would probably be impossible. “Except for Florence, there’s nobody in the world I trust as much as you. She’s getting older, though, and when I—when I die, she’s going to Seattle to live with her sister. I made her promise she would. Molly—” Out of the corner of her eye Psyche saw him stiffen at the name, and she rushed to get all the words out. “Molly will raise Lucas, but I’d like you to serve as my executor. See that my son’s estate is protected and preserved.”
    â€œPsyche—”
    She raised a hand. “Don’t,” she said. “Let me finish, please.”
    He nodded.
    â€œTeach Lucas to ride horseback, Keegan. Teach him not to be afraid. Teach him to play baseball and to—and to be a boy.”
    â€œLet me bring him up, Psyche,” Keegan said, and she knew he meant it, bless his heart.
    â€œHe needs a mother,” Psyche insisted.
    â€œ You’re his mother,” Keegan replied. “That isn’t going to change.”
    Psyche began to cry. Grabbed up a linen table napkin and swabbed at her wet face. “Molly’s going to adopt him,” she said. “As soon as I’m gone. I’ve already made all the preliminary arrangements.”
    Keegan frowned. “Why her? Of all people, Psyche, why her?”
    Psyche wouldn’t, couldn’t, look at him again. The linen napkin wafted to the stone floor of the porch, and she intertwined her fingers in her lap. “So you knew, then? About Molly and Thayer?”
    â€œI knew,” Keegan confirmed, biting out the