Accidentally Family (Pecan Valley 1)

“You go on down and see her.” Grams waved her aside. “She’s been hoping you’d stop by since she heard you were in town.”

“Okay.” It’s not like she’d been back that long. What had it been? Two weeks? Not quite? Was that all?

“Good.” Grams sat beside the bed and dug through her bag. “I finished her doilies, too, so you can take them with you.” She held up a brown paper sack.

“Anything else?” she asked.

“I’ll text you if I think of anything.” Grams smiled as the nurse came through the door. “Well, lookee here, Jack. Snack time. I hope they brought enough for me.”

“I did, Mrs. Otto.” The nurse smiled. “And I have good news. The doctor thinks little Jack will be released soon. Maybe a day or two.”

Charity was pretty sure that wasn’t necessarily good news. “I’ll tell Felicity.”

“He’s not going home with Filly, is he?” Grams asked, shaking her head and making the same disapproving click she’d made since Charity could remember. “His mother had no people?”

“So far, no one has popped up. But I think they’re looking.” If there was any justice in the world, someone suitable would turn up. Hopefully her sister would come home tonight with good news. “I’ll let you two enjoy your Jell-O.” She pressed a kiss to Grams’s cheek, waved at a glaring Jack, and hurried down the hall.

At the nurse’s station at the far end of the hall stood Braden Martinez—looking solemn and impatient—gauze pressed against his forehead. Before she took the time to consider her actions, she headed straight for him. She hadn’t thanked him for helping her get to the hospital that night. And, right now, he looked like he could use a thank-you or kind word. His heavy-lidded gaze slid her way and briefly widened before he stared straight ahead.

“Well, hi there, Sheriff,” she said, leaning in front of him and forcing him to acknowledge her. “Thanks for the police escort the other night.”

He nodded. “Part of the job.” His gaze shifted her way again. “It was either escort you or arrest you for running a red light.”

She grinned. “Oh, well, now I appreciate it even more.” He didn’t grin back—if anything, he seemed to be intentionally not looking at her. Which made her linger. “What happened to your head?” she asked, wishing he’d look her way. The eyes said so much.

“Domestic dispute,” he murmured.

“The wife got mad at you?” she asked, knowing full well he wasn’t married or her mother, Grams, and the widows’ group would stop mentioning how available and handsome and what a catch he’d be for her.

That got his attention. One brow arched, and those heavy-lidded eyes locked with hers. “Not my wife.”

“Well, that explains why it turned into a domestic dispute.” She smiled at him. “Honestly, Sheriff, I’m surprised at you. Messing around with someone else’s wife.”

He sighed, no sign of a smile in sight. Instead, his posture went rigid and his expression hardened.

She’d have to confer with the widows, but something told her the super-hot, super-broody sheriff might have been cheated on. And she’d just stuck her foot in it. Not that she was into gossip but…if she was going to stay put, she might as well drink the Kool-Aid and get the scoop on the citizens of her home sweet home. And since the baby in her belly—and her belly—were only getting bigger, she was staying put.

And it would be okay. Not at all upsetting. Not a bit nausea-inducing.

“I got caught in the crossfire of a domestic dispute. One I was there to break up. One I had nothing to do with.” His brows rose, and he waited.

“Oh, well.” She wrinkled her nose, eyeing the gauze pad pressed against his forehead. “Crossfire of what? A knife? A gun?” Pecan Valley had become downright dangerous since she’d left.

“A shoe.”

“A shoe?” She laughed, making the churning in her stomach more pronounced.

“Some chunky-heeled thing.” He held the gauze away and looked at it.

“Oh my God, you’re really bleeding.” Her smile disappeared, her stomach tightening. “That was some shoe.” Was she going to throw up? Yes. Soon.

“Solid aim,” he finished.

She pressed her eyes shut and crossed her arms over her stomach. Happy thoughts. Bubble baths. Cookies. Ice cream. Why did most of her happy thoughts revolve around food? Oh, right, because she was pregnant. And nauseous. And he was bleeding. Ugh. No. No blood. She sucked in a deep breath.

“You’re looking a little green. The blood?”

She nodded. “So let’s not talk about it.” Another deep breath. “On your way to get stitches?”