Page 26 of The Secret of Emerald Cottage

Chapter Sixteen

“Okay, that cleans me out.” Expelling an exaggerated sigh, Brec threw his cards on the dining-room table and moaned, stretching his arms high overhead. He resisted a grin at the pile of Mardi Gras doubloons in front of Miss Lilly, almost as high as the flash of teeth on her sweet little face.

No question she looked better than she had when they’d brought her home almost a month ago—color good, eyes bright and clear, and crutches long gone, although Brec still insisted on carrying her upstairs. Something she groused about vociferously every single time, but he suspected that deep down, it pleased her as much as it did him.

A soft smile curved on his lips as he studied his last living relative and wondered how on hearth he’d ever stayed away so long.

“Me too.” Molly tossed her own cards on the table, her smile wry as she finished off her tea. “Good thing Beck bought you that bag of Mardi Gras doubloons, Miss Lilly, or I’d be up till midnight reading my Bible,” she said with a wink, referring to the Scripture payment Miss Lilly usually demanded when she won at cards.

The old woman chuckled. “Never a bad thing, missy, although I suspect some could use it more than others.” Scooping her winnings into her pile, Aunt Lilly teased Brec with a wink, and he shook his head with a grin, pretty sure she’d rather win his soul than a pile of aluminum coins. Which is why her wins always included him reading her a chapter or two of her Bible when he carried her upstairs to bed each night, which he did gladly.

For her. Not for him.

Because one thing he learned a long time ago was that God cared a whole lot more for Aunt Lilly than He ever did about her nephew.

“Well, I guess it’s time for me to carry these old bones up to bed.” Sliding all her winnings into an age-old cigar box with a clatter, she lumbered up from her chair and pushed it in with a yawn that was a whole lot bigger than she.

“You mean it’s time for me to carry your old bones to bed,” Brec said with a laugh as he cut her off on her way to the sink, blocking her from doing the dishes.

Patting his cheek, she tried to side-step in a spry move that didn’t work for an instant. “Now, sonny, I think it’s time I tackle those steps on my own, ’specially since I’m a whole lot heavier, no doubt, from that Bailey’s cheesecake you made for dessert tonight.”

“No, ma’am.” Sweeping her up in his arms, he strode for the stairs with a jut of his jaw that matched hers. “The doctor said no steps for six weeks, and it’s only been four. Besides, I need to pay off my extra debt, which I believe is John 3 tonight, correct?”

“Humph.” She folded her arms in her classic peeved mode which Brec knew was mostly for show. “I’d prefer Ephesians 6:1—‘Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right’ ’cause I’ll just betcha Paul would agree in this case that should also include great aunts.”

Laughing, Molly ambled over to the sink to do the dinner dishes Miss Lilly’d insisted they leave till after poker, shooting a look over her shoulder with an arch of her brow. “Good night, Miss Lilly—sleep well. Unless you need my help getting ready for bed too?”

“Now, don’t you go a-startin’ with me, too, missy. Bad enough I got the Hulk here a-totin’ me around like a sack of spuds. Shore don’t need you a-hoverin’ over me too.” She blew a kiss Molly’s way. “Good night, girly-girl. You need to teach this boy here another lesson in poker ’cause I do believe he’s gettin’ too bossy for his britches. But if you do, make good ’n sure you don’t let him take advantage of you.”

Take advantage of her?

Brec grinned as he swept his aunt up the stairs and into her bedroom. A former police evidence technician and wanna-be detective with a gun?

Not likely.

As it turned out, Aunt Lilly made him read both John 3 and Ephesians 1 out loud while she brushed her teeth and got dressed for bed in her bathroom with the door ajar. By the time he made it back downstairs, Molly was almost done with the dishes, scrubbing a pot like she had a vendetta against it.

Or me? The thought appealed because he and Molly had forged a comfortable friendship over the last month. Laughing. Talking. Taking walks, watching movies, albeit always with Miss Lilly. But lately—the last few weeks or so—she’d been acting a bit strange. More distant. Less eye contact. No sarcastic comments like before to let him know she was in control. More on-guard like she’d been that first week, strung as tight as the high wire she seemed to be walking.

Nervous.

Pensive

Annoyed.

A slow grin eased across his lips. Almost like a woman who was attracted to him but didn’t want to be.

He strolled over to where Molly was drying the pot and leisurely butted a hip to the counter, grinning when she jumped like he’d startled her. “So … ready to take me on in another game of poker before we watch the telly?”

——

Ready to take him on? Molly battled a gulp as she carefully dried the pot she’d just abused and put it away. Faking a yawn, she tackled another with an apologetic smile. “Actually, I’m going to finish up this last pot and head up to bed myself because I’m pretty tired, so poker doesn’t appeal right now …” Nor the poker “player.”

Liar.

He took the pot from her hands. “Oh, no you don’t, missy. You wolfed down two pieces of my Bailey’s cheesecake, so the least you can do is keep me company while I finish the dishes before we watch telly.”

“No, I’ll finish the dishes,” she insisted, snatching the pot back. “You go watch your almighty ESPN.”