Any Day Now - Lani Lynn Vale Page 0,46

couldn’t say that I was one hundred percent all with it, still.

“Amelia,” Shiloh, my bigger, more beautiful sister said. “I’m not more beautiful than you are.”

Did I say that aloud?

“Yes,” she said. “Now, can you stand up?”

I wasn’t standing?

“No, you’re not,” Adam rumbled, his voice laced with humor. “I’m holding you up.”

He was?

“Yes,” he said. “And you’re still saying these things out loud.”

I grinned.

“Oh.” I turned until he was all I could see. “You have every girl’s dream eyelashes.”

Adam’s lips twitched, and I leaned forward and pressed my lips to the corner of them, causing him to laugh.

“Your dad and brothers are staring at me like they’re about to kill me,” he murmured.

I pulled away and glared at Adam’s chin. “Brothers?”

“Brothers,” he confirmed.

I sighed and let my head fall backward over Adam’s arm that was behind my shoulders, then stared at the alley that was full of people.

My mom. My brothers—Sebastian and Sam. My sister and her husband, James. My dad. Oh, and Nathan.

What was Nathan doing here again?

“I was at Target,” Nathan answered my apparently out loud question.

“Oh,” I said. Target is so cool. Much better than Walmart.

“If you say so,” Nathan said.

He smiled then, and I wished I was looking at him from the right way up because I bet that smile was killer. I’d always wanted his autograph.

“I’ll give it to you sometime,” he said. “You’re right across the street now.”

“You know,” I said. “Reggie messed up when she let you go.”

Nathan frowned hard. “What?”

The chocolate was finally doing its job, and my head started to settle as his words and mine penetrated my brain.

I looked away, hoping that he’d buy my confused brain speak.

But I’d made a mistake.

I’d mentioned Reggie, better known as Regina Morton, to him.

Reggie wasn’t a common name.

There were only so many Reginas of the world, and in Kilgore, who were under the age of seventy-five? There were even fewer.

I’d met Reggie during school a couple of years ago. We’d instantly hit it off, even though we were both in different courses and had different majors.

All it had taken were our paths to cross in one single class, and the rest had been history.

Though, we were more or less only seeing each other lately when one or the other could get off of work (her) and school or work (me). Needless to say, with the hours we both kept—her an early morning shift at the hospital in town, and me sleeping to try to make up for my hours from the bar—the times that we actually saw each other were few and far between.

Thankfully, before I could try to explain anything away, a woman and an older man rounded the corner.

The woman, a drop-dead gorgeous redhead with curly hair, bright cornflower blue eyes, and freckles all over her face, practically dragged her feet on the way to us.

My eyes went to the feet that I could hear scraping in the gravel—she really didn’t want to come over here—and I grinned.

She was wearing the same pair of shoes that I had on.

“I like your shoes,” I said to the woman.

The woman looked down at her silver Birkenstock sandals, then to mine, and she smiled tremulously. “Thank you. I like yours, too. You have impeccable taste.” There was a moment of silence. Then she said, “H-h-h-h…” The girl squeezed her eyes shut as if she’d rather shoot herself in the foot than say the word that was threatening to come out of her mouth.

“My daughter has Tourette’s,” the older police officer said. “My name is Baker Hughes. I’m a retired police sergeant for Longview PD.”

Adam, not letting me go, held out his hand. “Nice to finally meet you, Mr. Hughes.”

Sergeant Hughes’ smile formed, and it totally took away all the years off of his face. He looked… handsome. And attractive. And really, really hot for such an older man.

“Hughes.” My dad came up then, offering the older man his hand. “Is there a reason that my daughter was arrested?”

Hughes sighed. “Unfortunately, I have no control over who does and doesn’t get arrested at the department since I’m not there anymore. However, I did talk to the officer in charge. All charges have been dropped because of her. My daughter, Hastings.”

He pointed at his daughter, who thankfully looked like she was doing better now that her father had explained she had Tourette’s.

I’d never actually met someone with Tourette’s before.

I wanted to ask her all kinds of questions, but would that be super rude?

“What happened?” my mother