Naughty Or Nice. Sherri Browning Erwin

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СКАЧАТЬ to reassure me that she’s not waking any time soon.”

      “I’ll go check on her.” Kate excused herself, leaving me in Josh’s hands. Literally.

      Again, Josh’s touch was light. When he looked up from his examination, he seemed genuinely amazed. “It looks great. How does it feel?”

      “Better,” I said, eager to defend Nick’s efforts. “But it still hurts,” I added, enjoying the thought of an evening on the couch being waited on. It didn’t hurt at all, actually. It was as if nothing had happened. Kate returned with a still-sleepy Ellie in her arms.

      “Unreal. I would have expected the bruising to last for weeks, but it’s nearly gone,” he said, over my head to Kate. “No more swelling. Maybe Nick did know what he was doing after all.”

      He followed the assessment with a long swig of beer, as if the concession had left a bad taste in his mouth.

      “Good,” I said, covering back up with the blanket. “I hate hospitals.”

      Who didn’t? But the room grew quiet around me as if everyone silently acknowledged why hospitals might be worse for me than for the average bear. Kate had given birth to Ellie in a newfangled birthing center, keeping me a safe distance from the horrible place where my husband had died in my arms.

      Oh. God. The thought took me by surprise. Not that I wasn’t used to random flashbacks of being with Patrick, of suddenly missing him, of bursting into tears unexpectedly. But lately, it had happened less often, and I’d started to think I had it all under control. And then, in a heartbeat, it all came back to me, flooding over me, threatening to drag me down into that desperate, dark, and swirling pool of grief all over again. I choked, gasping for breath, feeling as if I were about to drown.

      Before I knew what was happening, Josh was on the couch beside me, cradling me in his big strong construction worker arms. “It’s okay, Bennie. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—just let it out. It’s okay to cry.”

      “No, it’s not okay,” I said, breathing at last. In, out. In, out. “No. I thought—jeez, it’s been a year almost.”

      “A year’s not really that much time,” Josh said. “You loved him.”

      “Very much, yes.” Breathing became easier. As easy as it was to dissolve into grief, it had become that much easier to snap out of it. I wiped my face. “But I’m fine. Really. I’m sorry to scare you.”

      “It takes a lot more than a woman’s tears to scare me,” Josh said, removing his arm from my shoulder. “But I’d better get going.”

      Suddenly I felt very grateful to Josh Brandon. Most guys would have fled for the door the second I became hysterical. Not Josh. He’d jumped right in to comfort me. It was a nice quality. “Stay for dinner. We’re having lasagna.”

      “Yes.” Kate hovered near the end of the couch. “We’ve got plenty. Marc’s coming over, too, so it will be fun. Just the four of us and the kids.”

      “Marc’s coming?” Just when I thought it was safe to relax, I sensed a double date scenario brewing. No problem. I would just have to make sure the kids took center seats, creating some space between Josh and me. They would make up any lulls in conversation and remove any of those awkward moments that might pop up if I had any renewed reason to believe he was attracted to me.

      “He called earlier and I couldn’t resist asking him. The Patriots play Monday night this week, and it’s a home game. Not that he’ll be on the field with his knee acting up, but he still has to make it an early night, the perfect night for staying in with family.”

      He was practically family by now. What was I thinking to even consider fixing Kate up with Josh? I wondered when Kate was finally going to give in and get as serious about Marc as he obviously felt about her. She hadn’t gotten over Owen. Yet. But I could see it was only a matter of time. To Marc’s benefit, he was like a father to Ellie. He’d even beat my parents to the birthing center for her delivery.

      And in this corner, Josh Brandon.

      I sipped my water and wondered if Josh had ulterior motives or if he truly was just a guy having dinner with friends.

      Marc arrived for dinner with a big bunch of wildflowers in tow. Score one for Marc.

      “They’re beautiful! Thank you.” Kate kissed him on the cheek. I glanced at Josh. No reaction. He stared straight ahead in the direction of the fireplace.

      A second later, Josh was on his feet to do the guy greeting thing, a handshake and slap on the arm. “How you doing, man?”

      “Not too bad,” Marc said. “Hanging in there. You?”

      “Eh. Hanging in there,” Josh said. Men were so creative with words.

      “Busted ankle, huh? Tough break.” Marc leaned over and rumpled my hair.

      I’d almost forgotten about it. “It’s feeling a little better now. I should be able to hobble over to the dinner table without much trouble.”

      “That’s my girl. Taking one for the team. And where’s my favorite little lady?” Marc looked around for Ellie, found her playing with her toes in the baby seat, and scooped her up in his arms. “Oo-wee, touchdown. Kate, I’m taking her up to give her a change.”

      “How long has it been since you’ve had a fire in the hearth?” Josh asked after a minute, as if the question had been on his mind for some time.

      “Oh, a long time,” I answered cautiously. Josh wasn’t exactly acting the part of the romantic suitor, but it was too early to tell what he, or Kate, had in mind. “Patrick was allergic to burning wood, so I’ve put decorative candles in there. It’s something.”

      “Something, but not the real thing. There’s nothing like a blazing fire on a cold winter’s night.”

      “True. I do miss it, actually. We’d thought about converting it to gas.”

      “Gas?” Josh wrinkled his nose in disgust. It was a fine nose, not too angular, slightly wide. An Irish nose, I decided. Like Patrick’s. “But then you don’t get the outdoorsy aroma. And the flames aren’t the same. No. You’ve got to stick with wood.”

      “I don’t know how to light a fire.”

      “Would you mind if I had a look? Not tonight, I mean, but I can come over next week, get a look at the chimney in daylight. Clean her out, get a fire lit.”

      “You want to clean my chimney?” It sounded like a lot of work.

      “I want to light your fire,” he said, and the gleam in his eye matched the spark of any blaze. My stomach flipped. Was that a line? Please tell me he wasn’t resorting to cheesy lines. But he clarified. “I don’t have a fireplace of my own. It would be nice to have a fire. If you don’t mind.”

      Sigh of relief. Maybe he was just hot for my fireplace. “No, not at all. You can come over and play around with it. I’m not sure about where to get wood and supplies.”

      “You free Tuesday? We can go out together. I know a good place for wood. A guy out in Natick, he cuts it himself. He can deliver it, for a price, СКАЧАТЬ