Trouble in Tennessee. Tanya Michaels
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no time for Charity to be rolling out the welcome wagon. “He’s right. Well, I wouldn’t know about the doctor, but definitely the dinner part. Don’t you dare try to cook just because I’m visiting. You and this baby are what’s important.”
Leaning back against the couch, Charity shook her head, her honey-blond ponytail swishing. “Boy, you guys impress easily. I promise I wasn’t slaving over a stove. I gave Bill some basic instructions for what to throw in the Crock-Pot, then stood long enough to season it myself. Honestly, the most strenuous thing I’ve done today was lift a pepper grinder. I spent hours in the rocking chair with my feet up, watching television, dozing and talking briefly on the cordless phone to both of you. Those are all approved activities, aren’t they?” The impish grin she shot Keith made her look so young it was hard to believe she was going to be a parent soon.
He sat on the couch next to her. “If I overreacted, I did it because I care.”
“I know,” Charity said fondly. “You’re a good friend. You will join us for dinner, won’t you?”
“Um…” Keith darted a look toward Treble, who shifted her weight from foot to foot and tried to ignore feeling out of place. “I should check in at the clinic.”
Charity laughed. “Well, I wasn’t planning on eating dinner in the middle of the afternoon. Come back tonight. Bill and Dad said they’d be back by six, so I’ll have dinner on the table around six thirty.”
Treble cleared her throat. “You’ll do no such thing.”
“All right,” Charity amended. “Someone will have dinner on the table around six thirty.”
“Won’t I be intruding on a family get-together?” Keith asked.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Charity swatted him on the arm with all the force of a two-pound kitten batting string. She’d always been diminutive in height and build and, in some ways, her protruding beach ball of a stomach highlighted that; it was comically disproportional in comparison to the rest of her. “You’re like family. The more the merrier! Right, Treb?”
“Right. Sure.” Merry? Not the word Treble would have used to describe an evening with her stepfather, but rumor had it Keith actually enjoyed the man’s company.
It probably helped that when Keith spent time with Harrison, the conversation wasn’t laced with disapproval and derision over his dating life and career choice.
“I GOTTA SAY, Keith, I’m disappointed that you won’t find enough time in your schedule to at least go on a date.” Charity put her hands on her hips, but given her reclining position, it wasn’t as effective a stance as it could have been.
When he’d returned this evening, Keith had turned the sofa that served as a divider between the two rooms so that it faced the kitchen. It was a more comfortable choice than the four chairs at the small oval table—besides, the spindly-legged seats didn’t look sturdy enough for a woman in her final weeks of pregnancy. Tonight they’d eat in the dining room. For now, Treble was tearing and washing lettuce leaves while Keith sliced vegetables for the salad.
She was glad she wasn’t the one wielding the knife or her occasional glances at Keith, who was standing a foot away by the kitchen counter, could have been disastrous. He’d obviously showered before changing into a starched white button-down shirt and dark jeans, because the ends of his hair had still been damp when he’d arrived, filling the small room with the scent of soap and sandalwood cologne. And I thought the beef stew smelled delicious.
Keith could definitely make a girl’s mouth water. In fact, according to Charity, that’s exactly what he did. Girls throughout town were lusting after him, although Charity had put it more discreetly as the two sisters chatted over tea this afternoon.
“If I thought he was happy as a single bachelor, I wouldn’t nag him about finding someone,” Charity had said. “But, honestly, I’m not convinced he’s happy. We’re friends, but there’s a lot he still doesn’t tell me.”
“Not for a lack of your asking, I’m sure,” Treble had teased.
“I think he’s lonely.”
Since Keith had ignored Charity’s previous statement, his only response being a rhythmic chop chop chop, she pressed on. “I know your occupation is important to you, to the town, but do you really want your career to be the be-all and end-all of your existence?”
Treble stole another covert glance at the dark-haired doctor. He could have his pick of women in Joyous. Was he simply a loner by choice? The way he’d chatted with Charity earlier made that seem unlikely. Though he couldn’t discuss any medical cases, he still had lots of funny anecdotes about patients and their families, especially kids. His genuine smile when he spoke about them, compounded with his willingly coming here tonight to have dinner with a pregnant woman and her family, made him seem like a people person.
“Enough,” Keith warned his hostess, brandishing a carrot menacingly in her direction. “You have to at least feed me before interrogating me.”
“I thought I might be able to wear you down easier on an empty stomach,” Charity said. “You know, weaker state and all that. But now that you mention food…if Dad and Bill aren’t ready to eat soon, we’re digging in without them. I’m famished.”
Treble grinned at her sister’s newfound appetite, thinking about the snacks Charity had downed earlier. Healthy snacks granted, but plentiful.
Charity cocked her head, listening. “I don’t hear the water running anymore, so maybe Bill’s done with his shower. That just leaves Dad.” Bill had come through the kitchen door shortly after Keith arrived. He’d spared a nod for the doctor before smiling in Treble’s direction.
“I’d hug you, but I smell like cow.” Then he’d sent his wife a glance of such sheer adoration that it had almost been too intimate to watch. “Hey, gorgeous. How are you and that daughter of ours?”
Beaming back at him, Charity had assured him she and the baby were doing great. “But clean up fast,” she’d warned. “This kid is getting hungry again.”
By the time Treble was scooping all the salad ingredients into a large pottery bowl and Keith had his head stuck in the refrigerator to find Charity’s homemade dressing, Bill padded into the living room clean and nicely dressed, but barefoot beneath his khaki slacks. A man with calloused hands but a soft smile, he was solid, short and just the right height for Charity. He kissed his wife, giving her the greeting he’d postponed when he was gritty and malodorous. He rested his forehead against hers, his sandy hair a few shades darker than her blond. They were a well-matched couple.
Treble hoped that the listeners who periodically called her show, wistful for this kind of love, found what they were looking for, but she suspected it was more elusive than movie producers and greeting card companies would have the public believe.
As Bill entered the kitchen to see what he could do to help, Treble noticed his soapy, fresh scent was similar to the way Keith had smelled when he walked in the door. Recalling her visceral overreaction to the doctor, she mentally smacked herself in the forehead. So the man bathed—it took more than basic hygiene to impress her.
“Treble?” Keith’s voice directly behind her made her jump. “What are you doing?”
Trying not to imagine you in the shower. “Um, tossing salad?”
He peered over her shoulder at the nearly mangled lettuce. “Interesting technique you have there.”
Her face warmed. “Would you believe I learned it on one of those Food Network cooking shows?”
He laughed, the sound as rich as dark chocolate and just as addictive. “No, but you get points for creativity.”
“Yeah, I always did have an imagination.” She turned slightly as she said it, and their gazes collided. It wouldn’t have mattered except that he was just so close. Not crowding her or being overly familiar, just there, his body