Accidentally Family

by Sasha Summers

  Because he was all about the hunt and she was the one—the only one—who’d turned down the Owen Nelson. And now? She didn’t have time for this. For him and his smile and the way he was getting to her. “Why is it so hard for you to accept my no?” Why couldn’t she sound certain? Instead of all soft and wavering and lame. Because I’m lying and I’m a terrible liar.

  “I would, if you meant it.” He reached for her again, his hand warm against her cheek. “You know what, Honor Buchanan? I’ve made sure I have no regrets so far. You’re going to mess that up. Because us, not happening… I’ll regret that every day.”

  He was staring at her, waiting. But she couldn’t back down. Not after three years of eye rolling and staying strong. How could she?

  Because she really wanted to. Oh my God, I do. “Fine,” she muttered.

  “What?” he asked, his thumb sweeping lightly across her cheek.

  “You heard me.” She shot him a look, but there was no hiding the shiver his touch caused.

  His grin was back. “I heard you.”

  That grin was a warning. This, he, was a bad, bad idea. “But…things are sort of messed up right now.”

  “I got that.” His eyes searched hers as he stepped closer. “I’ll call you. But that means you have to answer the phone.” Another step. If he leaned in to kiss her…

  The overhead lights clicked on.

  “Honor?” Her mother stood there, staring back and forth between them in shock and mounting concern.

  Her mother waited for an answer and, for the first time in her life, Honor didn’t have one. The truth was there on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t do it. The last few weeks had been hell. Adding more stress and worry went against everything Honor believed in. She would make sure Nick didn’t pull this sort of crap again. And, if Owen was serious, he would keep Nick out of trouble—for her. Her mother didn’t need to know. Maybe.

  “Mom,” Honor managed, her voice high and thin. She was scrambling for an explanation. She was in her nightshirt, with a boy, in the dark… “We didn’t want to wake you.”

  Her mom’s owllike eyes blinked. “Oh?”

  Way to really freak Mom out. She sucked in a deep breath and took Owen’s hand in hers. “Owen. You know Owen, don’t you?” She cleared her throat.

  Her mother nodded, eyes on their hands.

  “Well, he and I…” She shrugged, smiling nervously.

  Owen squeezed her hand. “I was out for a run, Mrs. Buchanan. Just stopped by to say hello.” He chuckled. “I forget not everyone is up at this hour.”

  Her mother’s posture eased the tiniest bit. “Running? At this hour?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I leave for boot camp in a few weeks. Trying to get myself on schedule and in fighting shape.” He smiled his win-over-the-teacher smile. “I apologize for stopping by uninvited. Had to see Honor—miss not seeing her every day at school.” His fingers threaded with hers, setting Honor’s nerves to tingling. “Best way to start my day.”

  Honor’s heart was thumping in her chest. He was good. Oh, so good. Good enough for her to wonder what that would be like—for him to feel that way about her.

  “She has that effect on people.” Her mother smiled. “You’re welcome to join us for breakfast, Owen. After your run?”

  Her mom was a goner. Not that she blamed her.

  “I appreciate the offer, Mrs. Buchanan, but I have work today. It was nice to officially meet you.”

  “You’re welcome to drop by this evening if you’d like. Just let me know what works.” Honor knew she was freaking out over walking in on her daughter in her pj’s with a hot guy, but she was doing her best to act cool because she was the best mother ever.

  “I’m sorry I woke you.” Those warm brown eyes locked with hers. “I’ll let you go back to bed.”

  Like that was going to happen. Her head and heart and…all of her were in a tailspin. She swallowed. “’kay.”

  “I’ll call later.” His fingers tightened around hers, then slid free. This shivering from his touch thing had to stop. She enjoyed it way too much. “You have to answer your phone,” he whispered.

  She nodded, his smile making her flush warmly.

  “Bye,” he said, waving at her mother, winking her way, and leaving through the back door.

  Her mother’s arm slid around her shoulders and pulled her close. “Wow,” she said. “He’s sort of…grown-up.”

  “We’re the same age, Mom.” But she knew what her mother meant. Owen was wow.

  “And Owen is your boyfriend?” she asked, squeezing her shoulder.

  No. No way. The idea was laughable. “Yep.”

  “And he did just stop by?” she pushed.

  Honor glanced up at her. “Yes.”

  Her mother relaxed then. “I know you’re an adult, Honor. I know you’re responsible and young and, apparently, in love. Just promise me you’ll be careful. Okay?” She touched her cheek.

  Careful? Was she talking about sex? Sex? With Owen? Even if she did forget that this was all a big cover-up for Nick’s stupidity, which she wouldn’t, there was no way she’d ever contemplate sex with Owen.

  All right, fine. Maybe. But she barely considered herself a decent kisser at this point. It wasn’t like she’d had a ton of experience. But Owen? He was probably a pro at kissing. Probably sex, too. Not that she’d ever know—or that she wanted to know. She didn’t. At least, she didn’t think so.

  Chapter Seven

  Charity sat beside Jack’s hospital bed, doing her best to finish reading the storybook without getting hit in the face with whatever projectile the toddler was heaving at her. Good thing he was too little to have good aim.

  “Good one,” she said, leaning to dodge an empty juice box. “Your dad was backup, backup quarterback, I think. That’s a nice way of saying he was a benchwarmer.” She tried smiling at the red-faced toddler. “I liked him. Then. He always liked me.”

  Jack didn’t look like he believed her. Or like he cared. He stretched and flailed but when he couldn’t reach another missile from his bedside table, he burst into tears. Even with her limited knowledge of babies and toddlers, she knew a tantrum when she saw one.

  “I know the feeling,” Charity said, setting the board book on the bed and standing. Should she comfort him? Talk to him? Run from the room? Honestly, the last option was the most appealing. “Grams is coming, okay, little dude. I get it. You don’t want me here.”

  Felicity had received a surprise call from Matt’s lawyer and, since Grams was running late, she’d been forced to sit with baby Jack. She was pretty sure the kid hated her. He was staring at her, white-blond curls standing on end, flushed cheeks and quivering lips. Poor little guy was pathetic.

  “Come on, Jack. I’m really not that bad, I promise.” She smiled.

  He threw the board book at her.

  “What’s all the racket about?” Grams asked, waddling into the room with her massive knitting basket hooked onto her arm. “You torturing the boy or what?”

  Charity smiled down at her grandmother. At eighty-one, the woman was just as feisty and active as women half her age. “You know me.”

  “I know you’ve never been fond of children,” Grams answered, reaching up to pat her cheek. “Which is why I’ve given up hoping you’ll provide me any great-grandkids. Guess I’ll have to count on your brother for a good half dozen—to make up the difference.”

  Charity swallowed. Oh, Grams, you have no idea. “Think Zach is a little busy saving the world right now, Grams.”

  “He’ll come home eventually. I told him to get a move on. I’m not going to live forever,” Grams argued.

  “Yes, you will,” she sassed right back. “Jack’s in a bad mood. Maybe it’s just me. But the nurse is bringing him some applesauce and Jell-O.” She tried to mimic the singsong voice she’d heard both Felicity and Ho
nor use. “Yum-yum.”

  Jack peeked through his fingers at her.

  “And it’s not that I don’t like kids,” Charity argued. “They don’t like me.” Which was true. Even Nick and Honor had been wary of her when they were really little. But then, she’d been wary of them. Once they were walking and talking, it was cake. Which meant the baby growing in her stomach was in serious trouble for the first two or three years of life.

  “Charity?” Grams was looking at her, waiting.

  “What?” she asked. “Sorry.”

  “I’m the one hard of hearing, girlie.” Grams paused. “I asked if you’d gone to see Maudie at the travel agency. You know, to get a job. I bet she’ll sell you her business, too. She’s been wanting to retire for years.”

  “Why hasn’t she?” Charity asked. “Who even uses a travel agent anymore?”

  “Not everyone likes putting their financial information into those dang computers, Charity Ann.” Grams was incredulous. “All those hack-men out there, stealing your identity and crashing your credit goals. I travel all the time, and Maudie O’Meara is the only person I trust to make sure I’m safe and taken care of.”

  Charity couldn’t stop smiling at her grandmother. She was a piece of work. Exactly the way she wanted to be when she was eighty-one years old. “I love you, Grams, you know that?”

  “What’s not to love?” she asked, grinning up at her. “But don’t change the subject. If you’re staying put, and I hear you’re thinking about staying put for a while, might as well make yourself useful—especially if you’re going to be another mouth for Felicity to feed.”

  Charity paused then. Grams was right. She needed a job. Preferably one with benefits. Even though the idea of being caged behind a desk in a small office right off Pecan Valley’s quaint and cliché Old Town Square made her skin crawl, there weren’t a ton of options. It wasn’t just her anymore.

  “Do you have Maudie’s number?” she asked.

  “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?”

  “No. I need to see my father.” His tone was curt.

  The only thing she remembered about Braden’s father was what a bastard he was. He’d show up drunk to all their football games, pick a fight, and get kicked out—humiliating Braden and stealing the limelight from his talented son. “He’s sick?”

  He nodded.

  “I’m sorry.” It was the right thing to say.

  He looked at her, a small smile on his face. “Thanks.”

  She would have smiled back but the gauze slipped from his fingers and the gash on his forehead, still bleeding, did her in. Running was her only option. She did, dodging orderlies and gurneys and ignoring the stares. Thankfully, she made it to the restroom before she added public humiliation to the day’s accomplishments.

  …

  “That’s all I know at this point.” Rob-the-lawyer Klein nodded at the waiter refilling his tea glass.

  Felicity poked at her cobb salad, not in the least bit hungry. She’d hoped for very different news when he’d called. News in general. Instead, she’d wound up having lunch with Rob, in a very busy café, more deflated than ever.

  “I’m sorry it’s not good news.” His voice was low. “I’m not giving up.”

  “And I appreciate that.” She did, t
ruly. But learning Amber had been a ward of the state since she was twelve would make tracking down relatives a challenge. Even if they managed to locate someone, how would that work? The person would be more of a stranger to Jack than her family.

  “No good?” he asked, using his fork to point at her plate.

  “It’s delicious.” She forced a smile and stabbed part of a hard-boiled egg.

  “This is nice.” Rob sat back in his chair, his gaze sweeping the lunch crowd—enough of a crowd that her lunch would be noticed and that news likely shared before she was back home. “It’s rare I get out of the office for lunch.” He smiled, his teeth drawing her full attention. “The company is nice, too.”

  Felicity did her best not to stare, but her sister’s comments about the man’s teeth had her smiling.

  Robert Klein’s eyebrows rose, and his smile grew.

  That was the sort of male smile she hadn’t received in a long time. And while it was flattering, she was not prepared for that sort of attention from Matt’s lawyer.

  Be honest. You’re not prepared for that sort of attention from any man. Period. Especially while front and center for all of Pecan Valley to see and speculate upon. She stared at her salad, nervously pushing around the lettuce and ham.

  “When does Honor leave for college?” he asked.

  Good. Neutral territory. “Too soon.” Which was true. This was not the summer she’d wanted. This summer was supposed to be heavy on sunshine, beaches, and laughter.

  “Matt was very proud of Honor.” He nodded as two men in suits walked past them. “He was always bragging on her. And Nick.”

  “He did?” She hadn’t meant to ask out loud.

  “Yes.” Rob’s gaze returned to her, and his smile dimmed. “I guess talking about him is hard. I apologize.”

  “No, it’s fine.” She shrugged. “He… That’s nice. Knowing that.”

  He cleared his throat. “Talking about the ex probably isn’t the best way to spend our first date.”

  Felicity’s fork froze inches from her mouth. This was a date? No, this was not a date. This was a meeting—wasn’t it? Yes. That’s exactly what this was. Or, rather, what she thought it was.