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“Excuse me.” She hopped up, dumping Pecan from her lap. “The nephew calls.”
“Sheriff Martinez is here,” Nick whispered, grabbing her arm. “Did he change his mind? Am I going to get arrested in front of Mimi’s widows’ group?” His voice wavered.
“Breathe. Relax. Did you invite him in?” she asked.
“I tried. He’s just…standing there.” He pointed to the entry hall.
Braden Martinez filled up the space, his expression as fixed as ever.
“Sheriff,” she said, smiling up at him. “What brings you around?” His steadfast presence throughout her nightmare hospital trip had guaranteed Braden Martinez the Nicest Guy Ever award—if there was such a thing.
He stood there. “Checking in.”
“He’s doing well, I promise.” She lowered her voice. “I haven’t been with him every second of every day, of course. But he hasn’t broken curfew, and the party he went to at the lake had a lot of adult chaperones so I’m pretty sure—”
“On you.” His gaze swept over her and held.
She couldn’t blink. He was staring at her. Making eye contact. Really, honest-to-goodness seeing her. And she had no idea what to do. Say something. Anything. “My goodness,” she whispered.
He cleared his throat. “Here.” He thrust a brown paper bag at her. “I’m…” He glanced at her, glanced beyond her, and froze.
“Sheriff Martinez?” Widow Rainey. “My, my, my. Won’t you come in? We have all sorts of deliciousness that Felicity made.”
“Thank you, no.” His answer was civil, if short.
“Not even for five minutes, Sheriff? I’m sure the ladies would love to hear all about your latest adventures.”
His gaze flickered her way—wearing a look that reminded her of Pecan or Praline when they were being stuck in the cat carrier for a trip to the vet. Trapped. Panicked. Ready to gnaw off a limb to get away. “Just got off a double.” He eyed the door.
“You should go, get some sleep,” Charity suggested, hoping to help his escape.
“Now, now, if you’re just getting off, you should eat.” Widow Rainey hooked arms with the sheriff and all but yanked him inside.
Charity stared after them, a wave of sympathy washing over her. That didn’t mean she wasn’t about to laugh, a lot, but she felt for Braden all the same.
“What’s in the bag?” Nick asked, still freaking out.
She peered inside. “It’s…ice cream.”
“That’s a lot of ice cream,” Nick said, pulling the two tubs out. “Two more in there. Who likes cherries jubilee?” He frowned, dropping the containers back into the bag.
She did. It was her favorite. “He remembered.” The tiniest flutter teased her stomach. She smiled, running her hand over her stomach. “I can’t believe it, either.”
She carried the bag into the kitchen, ignoring the widows as she packed her beloved ice cream into the freezer. Braden Martinez had grown into a strange man, in a good way. He wasn’t a talker; that was clear from the way he was staring into his tea, stoic, while the widows chattered on around him. And no one would ever accuse him of being the emotional sort. But there was something real about the man. Solid. And good. He was a decent guy—so decent he’d stayed with her until she’d been released from the ER, taken her back to her car, and followed her home.
Decent, as in checking on her and bringing several surprise tubs of cherries jubilee ice cream.
If she stole a glance his way a few times, it was only because she wanted to thank him. And he was hot. Like big, brooding, muscle-y, quiet, and manly sort of hot. She fanned herself with the kitchen towel in her hand.
Pregnancy hormones.
Her father hurried into the kitchen, carrying a bag of brisket. That coupled with the overpowering scents of perfume and tuna salad, and the claustrophobic heat of extra bodies in what suddenly felt like a small space was all it took to have her running. She had no choice. There was no way she’d make it to the guest bathroom. So right there, in front of the widows, Sheriff Martinez, and pretty much her entire family, she threw up her sister’s lovely lemon pound cake into Felicity’s pristine sink.
She was vaguely aware of many My goodnesses being declared, but that didn’t stop her vomiting. Oh, so much vomiting.
“Charity, honey.” Her mother pressed a cool cloth to her head. “You ate too much.”
“Want some water?” Felicity asked.
