Page 28 of Shark’s Rise

“Not until you eat something.”

I flopped back against the overstuffed couch pillows. “Oh, my God. Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously. Just a few bites.”

“No.”

“Do you normally take vitamins?”

“No!” I spat it this time. “I don’t usually take vitamins. They bother my stomach.” I chuckled at the comment—and meant it. I couldn’t imagine what a multivitamin would do to my stomach in its current condition. “I normally eat a very balanced diet. I’m a chef, remember? I cook exceptional healthy food, and I always ensure the meals I prepare are nutritionally balanced.”

We were quiet again for a few minutes before a woman from the kitchen entered the room. She was younger than the saint who’d just helped me get rid of everything but my stomach lining but her face possessed the same open warmth, her smile the same friendly dimples. She carried a tray with a steaming bowl in the center of it.

“Martha prepared this for you, Ms. Gibson,” she said while lowering the tray to the coffee table. “She said it might help to settle your stomach.”

“Thank you.” I nodded and smiled in return. “And please, just call me Abbi.”

“All right.” She had a charming blush. “Abbi.”

“Would you mind telling me your name?”

“I’m Dori. It’s short for Dorinda. But that’s a silly family name that’s awful!” She laughed, and I found myself joining in with a weak giggle. “There is vegetable broth and toast. I put the butter on the side in case your stomach isn’t ready for that. There’s some mild cheese there too. Maybe some calcium would be good for you right now?”

I looked up to catch the happy twinkle in her gaze. Her kindness and generosity, with the food as well as her spirit, made tears threaten the backs of my eyes.

“Thank you, Dori. This is very thoughtful.”

“Well, we’ve all been worried about you, Ms. Gib— Abbi. Please, try to eat a little bit before you rest. I’ll take the tray when you’re done, okay?”

“Okay.”

Elijah and I watched her disappear back into the kitchen before he turned back to me. “Sit up a bit,” he directed. “I’ll hand you the bowl.”

“Actually, the toast sounds better at the moment.”

“All right. Do you want butter on it?”

“No. I better just stick to plain for now. I’m not sure the fat is a good idea.”

“Agreed. Here you go.” He handed me the small plate with the four triangles of toasted wheat. Never had two measly pieces of bread looked so daunting. “Just do what you can,” he urged. “I’d rather see you keep down one-half than return all four.”

My keeper sat back in his cushy chair after getting me situated. I glared at him and huffed. “Sheez, Elijah. You don’t have to sit and stare at me to make sure I eat. I’m not playing some game here.”

“I know that,” he countered. “But I also told you that I wanted to talk before giving you this.” He nudged the elephant in the room, masquerading as that damn brown bag, with his toe.

“Does this story have something to do with the…interesting…shift in your mood here?” I asked it carefully, lest my spotlight on the difference make him change his mind about giving it to me.

“Maybe.” He sighed and pushed his hands through his sandy brown hair. “Okay, yes. Probably.”

“Which means what?”

Elijah leaned forward. Did that digging-through-his-hair thing again. Shoved back. Leaned forward. I almost said something about his fidgeting endangering my tentative sense of balance, but he finally settled for bracing his elbows on his knees—just before asking, “Has Sebastian…ever mentioned a woman named Hensley to you?”

So much for my restored equilibrium.

My stomach lurched. Holy shit. There was a woman in Bas’s life I didn’t know about? One Elijah was so concerned about, he had to sit down and tell me a story with her as the main character? And then offer up a consolation gift afterward?

“No.” I dropped the toast onto the plate and shoved the dish away.