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Of course I will. She used her fork to break up the remains of her pie crust.
“The place is gorgeous.” Kylee was talking. “Teddy really knows how to take care of guests.”
“I stayed there for my interview. You’re right,” Ash said, making her look at him—to find him glancing her way. “I was very well taken care of.”
Did the corner of his mouth just turn up? Was he teasing her? In front of her family? Her hand tightened around her fork. A fork she really wanted to launch at his head. But that would definitely be waving a red flag in front of her brother.
But when he dared to look at her, that damnably gorgeous smile on his face, she dropped her fork. It was a quick look, but it was enough to have her melting. And seeing red. Luckily, Fisher was too busy serving more slices of Kylee’s buttermilk pie to notice when she dropped her fork on the ground.
Kylee, however, saw everything.
“It was a quick trip,” Fisher continued. “One night, wasn’t it?”
Renata ducked, taking as long as possible to collect her fork. And hide the telltale flush burning her cheeks.
“Yep.” Ash’s voice was thick.
She popped up and placed her fork alongside her plate.
“Maybe it was a good thing. If you’d run into Renata, she might have talked your ear off then and you would have decided to pass on the job.” Fisher chuckled.
Renata tried to laugh but it came out sounding slightly unhinged. All eyes turned her way. Enough already. She pushed her chair back and stood. Her stomach clenched, nausea settling in. After feeling queasy for a few days, the pie probably wasn’t the best choice. “I should head out. I—I’m sorry.” She smiled at Kylee. “Today has been...long. I’m going to head home.”
Kylee pushed out of her chair. “Are you sure?”
“Sit. I’m good.” Seeing Kylee move, round and awkward from her pregnancy, triggered a wave of sympathy—and guilt. “Please. I’ve got an early-morning meeting for the Gingerbread Festival. Finalizing judges, I hope, since Lola backed out. If you think of someone who’d be interested, let me know.” She nodded, waving at Fisher, then Ash, and hurried toward the door. “Plus, I’m beat. Thanks for dinner.” And I’ll make an even bigger fool of myself if I stay a minute longer.
“You know I’m going to figure out what’s going on.” Fisher stood.
Her panic level continued to rise. No. No, you’re not. Please.
Fisher hugged her, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“And I’ll be busy.” She smiled up at him, wishing she could sink into a nice, comforting hug. Instead, she pulled free and opened the front door. “Unless you want to judge the Gingerbread Festival?”
He held his hands up in defeat. “No. No way. ’Night then.”
“’Night,” she said, slipping through the door and hurrying from the front porch. Once she and her bright yellow truck were headed toward the Lodge, she could finally breathe. But, with no distractions around, it was hard to ignore the magnitude of her bizarre behavior. Instead of acting like her fun, usual self, she’d opened herself up to a boatload of questions and concerns from her brother. And his very observant wife.
But she’d never counted on Ash coming back. Ever. She might have hoped, in the beginning. Maybe even dreamed about it a few times... But now, she was over him. She was. And, if he was going to stay in town and work with her brothers, their night together needed to stay a secret. For his own safety. Not only was her twin as big as a mountain and as stubborn as a mule, he was fiercely protective.
Chapter 4
Dr. Rudolpho Santos had been her doctor since before she could remember. He’d seen her through childhood bouts of strep throat and sinus infections, sprained limbs and cracked bones—the man knew her. And she knew him. But the look on his well-wrinkled face was one she wasn’t familiar with. Considering the road map of creases on his forehead, she was amazed his brows could go that high. But they did—and they were going higher by the second while he was reading her chart.
“Why?” was the question. And did she want to know the answer?
All she had to do was ask—to force the words lodged in her throat up and out and into the open. But his expression, his total silence, had her unnerved.
Before she could say a word, his dark brown eyes met hers and he sighed heavily. A long, deep, deflating sort of sigh that didn’t bode well for what was to follow. “How long has this stomach bug been bothering you, Renata?” he asked, sitting on the stool.
“A week or so now. I would have come in sooner, but it’s a stomach bug—how long can that last?” She waited, the indecision on his face confusing.
“Another few months, I’d say.” Those dark brown eyes searched her face.
“Months?” she asked, stunned. What kind of stomach bug was that? “Doc, I can’t keep a thing down. I’m not sure I’ll make it another few months—”
“That happens sometimes but you’ll pull through.” He broke off, his lips pressed tight.
