Mom In The Middle. Mae Nunn

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СКАЧАТЬ teased Casey about for years. He still remembered the wallop his youngest sister had delivered to his gut the day he’d called her Corkscrew one too many times. At the memory he felt an uncontrollable grin of brotherly love.

      “Wanna share the joke? I could use some humor right now.”

      He glanced over his right shoulder briefly, training his smile her way. What she returned was a watered-down imitation. The effort stirred sympathy in his heart.

      “Your hair reminds me of my kid sister, and I was just remembering how I used to make fun of it.”

      Her eyes widened, brows rose in an exaggerated manner as she attempted to look offended. “So you think I have funny-looking hair, huh?” She shook her curls at her son, who burst into high-pitched giggles. “Well, you’re not the only one.”

      “My sister’s curls are wild and corky, she’s always trying to squash them into submission. But yours are…” Their eyes met in the mirror. Hers filled with anticipation of what he might say. “Nice.”

      She stared for a couple of seconds then smiled and ducked her head as if no one had complimented her for a long time.

      Unbidden, protective warmth surged in his chest for this young woman. Her quiet modesty reminded him of Kate, one of his older sisters, the busy mother of four boys and an incredible wife in the mold of their beloved mother.

      With so many great examples of married couples in his family, it was odd—even to him—that he truly had no need whatsoever to experience that for himself. Not that there was any chance of it with his work schedule. As vice president of corporate expansion, he was on a tight schedule to open an H&H Super Center in a new city every twelve months. He’d be buried with projects through the end of the decade.

      “Thank you. A girl will take nice over wild and corky, any day.”

      “Actually, Casey’s hair is part of the reason she’s the prettiest of my sisters, though I’d never admit that to her,” he said as he took the final turn that would lead them to downtown Austin’s premier emergency-care facility.

      “How many sisters do you have?”

      “Five,” he said into the rearview mirror.

      “What are their names?” Abby’s wide eyes were back.

      “I won’t bore you with the long versions. But they go by Meg, Kate, Andrea, Tess and Casey. I came along between Andrea and Tess.

      “What was it like growing up in a house with that many women?” She seemed amused at the thought. The tiny glimmer of humor in her eyes was charming.

      “Brutal.” He chuckled. “They spoiled me rotten. Between Mom and the girls, every need was met before I could ask a second time. By grade school I’d figured out that the kid-glove approach with my sisters would always get me what I wanted.”

      “Well, I hope Dillon has a sister to be soft on some day. But not five,” she teased and again his heart surged with compassion. This young woman had so much on her mind yet she was putting him at ease.

      “Here we are,” he warned as he pulled into the hospital’s emergency entrance.

      The ambulance attendants had already wheeled their patient through the automatic doors and disappeared into the triage unit. Guy hurried around to help his passenger step down.

      “I’ll be right in as soon as I park.”

      With an efficiency that amazed him, Abby slung the heavy-looking bag over her shoulder and propped the boy on her hip. She offered a grateful smile and hurried into the building.

      Forty-five minutes later there was still no news. Guy checked the time on his watch against the display on his cell phone. Two o’clock. He returned it to the clip-on holster and shifted in the waiting-room chair that was far too low and narrow for the comfort of a man of his stature. Once again he reminded himself that he had to do something about the extra ten pounds that years of eating on the run had added to his six-foot-one frame. But his mother was constantly telling him he looked better with a little more meat on his bones. He stretched his long legs and crossed one ankle over the other to admire his newest pair of custom-made cowboy boots, constantly impressed with the craftsmanship of Texas boot-makers. The kangaroo leather of the handmade Luccheses had molded nicely to his size-twelve feet during the four months he’d worn them. Soon they’d be stretched by cedar shoe trees and lined up with a dozen other pairs made of everything from ostrich to boa constrictor. It would be a pity to retire these boots but that was his way of marking the end of a project, acknowledging it was successful.

      Though he’d consumed his weight in antacids, a new H&H was open and running relatively smoothly.

      Until today.

      Well, he’d remain prayerful and positive, put this minor crisis behind him and be moving on to the next site in no time. In a couple weeks Casey would arrive to take the handoff. He’d head home to Iowa where he’d jump knee-deep into new construction planning for the Galveston location. Austin had been nice but he was eagerly looking forward to fishing the waters of the bay during his tour of duty in Galveston.

      A fussy-baby wail interrupted his personal musings. He glanced up and spotted Abby heading his way with little Dillon clinging to her for dear life. Guy jumped to his feet and took several steps in her direction.

      “Any news?”

      “Still waiting on a doctor to read the X-rays.” She jostled the boy and shushed him, having no apparent impact at all as his complaints grew louder. She pressed his face to her shoulder in a useless effort to muffle the sobs.

      “I’m sorry, it’s way past his nap time and he’s had all the cookies he’s going to get until he eats some vegetables.”

      “Can I give it a try?” Guy raised his arms, hands open, ready to take Dillon. With ten nieces and nephews, he was handy with a cranky toddler if he did say so himself.

      “I don’t think so.” The skepticism on her face almost made Guy want to laugh. “He won’t let you hold him. My dad’s the only man Dillon’s used to.”

      “Your husband’s not good with little ones, huh?”

      “I’m a widow,” she said softly.

      His jaw clenched along with his insides as he realized his verbal gaffe and the complicated facts that accompanied her simple response. She was a young woman alone, so much weight on her slender shoulders and without the love and support of a husband, that treasure the married women in his family prized above all else.

      “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make things worse for you.”

      “Don’t feel badly. It’s been nearly two years and it’s a common assumption when you have a toddler, so I’m almost used to it.”

      The boy whined louder.

      “I really am pretty good with a grumpy baby,” he assured her, remembering his sister Tess’s wedding day when he’d been officially appointed to make sure none of the little ones got out of sorts during the reception. Good thing it was his policy never to take a date to a family function, because these days the girls expected Uncle Guy to be their babysitter.

      Dillon СКАЧАТЬ