Sassy Cinderella. Kara Lennox
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they headed back through the dining room and into the living room. “Only a dentist like me would notice you have caps.”
“Thanks.” Getting her teeth fixed was one of the first things Sherry had attended to after she got out of nursing school.
Jeff was just coming through the front door with Sherry’s luggage. It hadn’t seemed like so much when she’d stuffed it all into the trunk and back seat of the Firebird, but now it looked like a tapestry-printed mountain growing in the middle of the room.
Jonathan frowned at the vast pile of luggage. Then he turned to Sherry. “You are here just for a few days, right?”
“I know it looks like a lot,” Sherry said apologetically. “I never have been good at packing. Don’t worry, the bags will be out of your way in a jiffy.” She grabbed up as many of the smaller bags as she could carry and lugged them toward her room. Jeff and Allison got the rest.
“This room is really nice,” Sherry said, running a finger along the top of the oak dresser. The comforter on the queen-size bed looked fluffy and warm, and there were at least four pillows, all with matching pillow slips.
“Anne made it over,” Allison said. “She has really good taste. In fact, Anne is the one who made me over.”
Allison had told Sherry the whole story when they first became friends. She’d wanted to catch Jeff’s eye, so she’d done a radical makeover on herself, only to have Jeff fail to notice. He’d finally come to his senses and realized he loved Allison, but apparently his feelings had little to do with her appearance.
“Want me to help you unpack?” Allison asked.
“I’ll do that later. Right now, I’d like to sit down with Jeff and learn more about Jonathan’s medical condition to find out exactly what sort of care you want me to provide.” She slipped a notebook and pen from the outer pocket of one of her bags.
“He has a concussion,” Jeff said. “He landed on his head.”
“I’m surprised he didn’t leave a dent in the ground,” Allison said, “instead of the other way round.”
“Of the two, his head’s probably harder,” Jeff agreed. “Anyway, Sherry, Jonathan also has an angulated, displaced fracture of the tibia, but it was simple. There were no bone fragments, so the orthopedist didn’t feel surgery was necessary, just reduction and a cast. But there was a lot of swelling and bruising, so he needs to keep the leg elevated—and keep off it, of course. Otherwise, just watch for signs of infection. He has some minor abrasions where the horse kicked him.”
Sherry gasped. “A horse kicked him?”
“After bucking him off,” Allison added. “These men and their horses…Well, anyway, other than keeping an eye on Jonathan, you’ll just need to cook and clean and help out with the kids. I know it’s not a job that requires your level of skill—”
“Oh, I don’t mind,” Sherry said quickly, then realized how overeager she sounded. But the idea of playing house with Jonathan Hardison and his family was far more appealing than it should have been. “Is Jonathan on any medication?”
“Antibiotics and Vicadin for pain, but he’s not taking the pain pill. He said he didn’t like how it made him groggy.” Jeff pulled two prescription bottles out of his shirt pocket and handed them to Sherry. “Make him take the Vicadin if the pain keeps him awake at night. He needs to sleep if he wants to heal.”
“Gotcha.” She scribbled in her notebook as they all three returned to the living room.
“Kristin has food allergies,” Allison added. “The list of everything she’s allergic to is on the fridge.”
More scribbles in the notebook.
“Sam hates baths and will go to any lengths to avoid them,” Allison said with a chuckle. “Don’t let him con you.”
Sherry started to worry. What other idiosyncrasies did this family have, and what would they forget to tell her? She’d never done private-practice nursing before. She’d always worked in a hospital or doctor’s office, where there were plenty of people around if she had any questions or problems.
“Why doesn’t everybody stay for dinner?” Sherry asked. “I can make a Frito-chili pie that’s out of this world.”
JONATHAN COULDN’T BELIEVE his ears. The woman had been in his house for, what, fifteen minutes? And already she acted like she owned the place, inviting people to dinner. He wanted everyone to go home. He was in no shape to entertain guests.
At least he wouldn’t have to go to the table. He planned to take his meals right here on a TV tray.
But the aggravating woman messed up those plans, too. Realizing Jonathan would have to eat his dinner alone if everyone else sat in the dining room, she announced she would serve dinner in the living room. “The kids can sit on the floor in front of the coffee table and everyone else can eat on TV trays. You have TV trays, right?” She looked at Jonathan.
He was forced to smile and tell her where the trays were kept.
Frito-chili pie. Jonathan knew it was a Texas tradition, but he wasn’t fond of Mexican food of any kind. He liked his meat and potatoes. But the smell coming from the kitchen as Sherry cooked wasn’t too bad.
Allison got out the trays, and Kristin helped her set places for everyone. Anne put some lively zydeco music on the CD player, while Sally turned on every light and lamp in the house. Pretty soon it was like a party.
A party was the last thing Jonathan needed. Couldn’t his family see that? And Sherry—didn’t she know injured people needed peace and quiet? What kind of nurse was she?
In less than an hour she had dinner ready. He had to give her credit for efficiency. The steaming square of casserole on his plate didn’t cheer him, though. He would have preferred a nice pork chop.
“Do you normally have a blessing?” Sherry asked as everyone got settled in with their plates and drinks.
“Usually only when my father’s here,” Allison said. “I think I told you before, he’s a minister. I suppose we should bless the meal. Would you like to do it, Sherry?”
“Oh, um, sure.” She bowed her head. Jonathan would have done the same, but he was too entranced watching how Sherry’s curls fell over one shoulder and breast, the very end teasing her cleavage. “Thank you, Lord, for this food,” she said, “and for giving me a temporary job so the credit card companies don’t come get me, and for Jonathan being on the road to a full recovery.”
“Amen.”
“Let’s eat!” Sam said, picking up his fork and digging in. Everyone else followed suit.
From his first bite, Jonathan thought his mouth had caught fire. He somehow managed to swallow, chasing the bite down with a gulp of milk, but he coughed afterward. Looking around, he noticed he wasn’t the only one experiencing difficulty with the meal. Jeff’s eyes were watering, Edward had covered his mouth with his hand and his eyes were bulging, and Anne was gasping for breath.
Kristin was less polite. She spit out her first bite. “This is too hot!” she announced.
“No kidding,” Sam said, staring at his food as if it were a poisonous snake.
Sherry looked at the children with concern. “Is it? I put peppers in the pie—I found them in the fridge, so I figured you wouldn’t mind.”
Pete chuckled. “Those’re my peppers. I put ’em on everything, but these other tenderfoots don’t like ’em.” Pete took a second bite of the casserole, obviously not bothered by the piquant flavor.
“Daddy, can I have a peanut butter sandwich?” Kristin asked.
One by one everyone except Pete and Sherry found an alternate dinner. They tried to tell Sherry it wasn’t her fault, but she was obviously embarrassed.
“What