Secretly Yours (The Wild McBrides 2)

Taking a bite, he silently approved her choice. “There was no reason for you to worry about me.”

“Of course. What was I thinking? I come home all the time to find men lying on my floor grimacing in pain. I realize now I shouldn’t have given it even a second thought.”

He wondered why he’d once thought of Annie as a meek little doormat. Apparently she had made it a point to hide the fact that there was an acerbic sense of irony hidden behind her delicate fragility. Since he couldn’t think of an appropriate response, he took another bite of the delicious lasagna to avoid having to answer.

They ate a few minutes in silence and then Annie spoke again. “I assume you injured your back in the plane crash?”

He nodded, not surprised that she’d heard about the accident.

“Are you being treated for it?”

He lifted one shoulder in a slight shrug. “I’ve had a couple of operations, but there’s not much more that can be done.”

“What about therapy? Exercises?”

Focusing fiercely on his plate, he muttered, “I’ve been given some exercises, but they don’t help much.”

“Why do I suspect you don’t do them as faithfully as you should?”

Now she sounded like his mother. He gave her a look, then reached for his tea.

Propping her chin on one hand, she studied him openly, making him self-conscious. “What?” he asked.

“I was just remembering the first time I met you. I’d heard the whispers around town and I wasn’t sure what to expect.”

He scowled. “I hope you’ve learned that you can’t believe everything you hear in this town. People around here have made a sport out of gossiping about the McBrides. It’s been going on since my great-grandfather’s day.”

“So I’ve been told. One of my clients is Martha Godwin.”

His scowl deepened. “She’s the worst of the bunch. What did she tell you about me?”

“Only that you were in a terrible accident that left you with serious injuries. She probably would have embellished, but I don’t encourage gossip about my clients.”

“Good policy,” he muttered, stabbing his fork into a tender baby carrot.

“From what little she did say about you, I half expected to find you in a wheelchair. Missing a few limbs at the least.”

“I sat in a wheelchair for almost four months after the crash. I didn’t care for it.”

She chuckled. “I don’t imagine that you did.”

He still hated the thought of her picturing him as an invalid—even though he had to admit she wasn’t treating him like one. “I’ve been on my feet for months. I’ve been left with a trick back and limited peripheral vision, but I get by just fine.”

She glanced at his glasses. “So that’s why you didn’t see me sitting at Jamie’s table the other day. I wondered.”

He pushed his near-empty plate away as he remembered his surprise at finding her in his sister-in-law’s kitchen. Knowing she had been watching him while he was unaware of her presence had made him extremely uncomfortable. Now she knew everything about him, he thought in resignation. Now would come the pity.

“You were lucky, weren’t you?” she startled him by asking instead.

He stared at her in disbelief. “Lucky?” That was one word he hadn’t associated with himself since the accident.

Her eyebrows rose. “Of course. You survived an airplane crash. You’re still in one piece, you’re able to do beautiful woodworking and you have a wonderful, loving family.

You’re still prettier than any man has a right to be. All in all, I would say you’re very lucky.”

Who was this woman? he asked himself, dismayed to feel his cheeks warm in response to being called “pretty.” His meek, shy little housekeeper had turned into someone he didn’t know at all.

“Now,” she continued, pushing her plate away, “do you want to stay here and rest for another couple of hours or do you want me to take you home?”