a red vinyl bag.
“I’m fine,” Avery said, then winced as Gray touched her arm.
“You need that bandaged. A trip to the ER isn’t a bad idea. We need to make sure there are no splinters left in the wound.”
“I’ll wash it out here,” she told him, shaking her head.
“Are you sure?” Carrie asked.
“Yeah. But first I’d like to get out of this attic.”
“I’ll boil water,” Carrie offered with almost manic enthusiasm. “And get out the hydrogen peroxide. Meet you in the kitchen.” She turned and hurried down the steps again.
“She does like taking care of people.” Avery smoothed a hand over the front of her wrinkled and torn shirt.
“You should see a doctor.”
“Nope. Niall has already given the people of Magnolia too much reason to talk about me. I’m not adding more to it.” She glanced at her arm. “I don’t need stitches, so I’d prefer no one else know about this little catastrophe. There’s plenty of work to be done on the house without everyone thinking it’s dangerous, as well.”
“Most people know not to walk through a decaying attic,” he pointed out.
“I was distracted,” she said, moving carefully toward the staircase.
Gray kept a steadying hand on her back, and it spoke volumes about her current state of mind that she didn’t shrug off his touch.
“By the moldy insulation?” he asked with a chuckle.
“Check out the far wall, funny man.”
After ensuring she made it to the top of the steps, he turned back to the dimly lit space. “Carrie’s paintings,” he said softly. He hadn’t noticed them when he came up, his attention focused solely on getting Avery to safety.
“I’m not sure if she or Niall shoved them up here,” Avery said. “We didn’t get to that before my accident. She was too busy shouting at me to ignore them.”
“I told you she was talented.”
“An understatement.”
He nodded.
“She should be using her talent.”
He inclined his head to study her. “That comment makes it sound suspiciously like you care.”
She lifted an arm to wave off his comment, then grimaced. “She’s a potential revenue stream. We need money for repairs. Don’t make me out to be some would-be saint. I’m not Carrie.”
The bite in her tone ripped into him like getting caught on a jagged rock outcropping. It was exactly the reminder he needed to keep his distance—both emotional and physical—from this woman.
“She’s waiting in the kitchen,” he said. “I can stay, too, if you need me.”
Something flashed in Avery’s blue eyes. Vulnerability and perhaps disappointment, like she’d wanted him to argue with her assessment of herself.
“Carrie will take care of things. It’s fine.” Then she nodded and headed down the steps.
Gray followed with a sigh. The vague sense of regret rippling through his veins was the reason he kept his life simple. Complications only caused trouble.
* * *
AVERY THUMPED HER head to the shiny linoleum that covered the tabletop in the quiet corner of The Bean Bandito before looking across the table at her two half sisters. “Could he have made dividing his estate any more complicated?”
“You shouldn’t bang your head that way.” Carrie offered a compassionate smile. “Falling through the ceiling might have jumbled your brain.”
“My brain is fine.” She rubbed her fingers over the bandage wrapped around her arm. “I got a little scraped up. That’s all.”
“At least eat something.”
“Or better yet, gulp down another margarita,” Meredith suggested. “Maybe that will help Niall’s insanity make more sense.” She flicked a glance at Carrie. “He was a lunatic, you know?”
Carrie’s perfectly shaped lips thinned. “Artists are known to be eccentric.”
Meredith snorted and ran a hand through her chin-length bob. “You have to admit your father royally screwed us.”
“He’s your father, too.”
“Don’t say that.” Meredith slapped a hand on the top of the table. “I have a dad. Yours is just a guy who fooled around with my mom and was too stupid or