Country Proud (Painted Pony Creek #2) - Linda Lael Miller Page 0,57

she was enjoying the brother-and-sister exchange, wishing, not for the first time in her life by any means, that she had a sibling, someone to joke with, bicker with, love unconditionally and be loved the same way in return.

Of course, Sara and Eli’s relationship was probably unusual.

Even rare.

Why? Because everything about Eli was rare. He was no ordinary man.

And Sara was no ordinary woman.

Brynne felt rather shallow by comparison to either one of them.

Eli moved to stand briefly beside Brynne’s chair, and his hand brushed across the back of her left shoulder, light as a spring breeze. “Don’t listen to my sister,” he said. “She thinks she’s that cowboy detective she writes about.”

With that, he left the room.

Brynne heard Hayley greeting him in the living room with a gleeful, “Hey!”

“Hey, yourself,” he replied audibly.

Brynne sat very still in her chair, still recovering from the jolt that had raced through her at his touch. Her feet seemed bolted to the floor.

“Guess you’re finally over Clay Nicholls, that scumbag,” Sara said gently, with a smile in her voice.

To her own surprise, if not Sara’s, Brynne suddenly began to cry, though silently. Her shoulders shook and her nose ran and when Sara produced a box of tissues, she snatched up a handful and buried her face in them.

“Oh, Brynne,” Sara said, her tone tender now. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have opened my big mouth.”

Brynne recovered quickly, mainly because she didn’t want anybody else to see her shedding ridiculous tears, like a schoolgirl ditched on prom night.

She knew a thing or two about that.

“I’m all right,” she insisted, not quite meeting Sara’s eyes, though she could feel her friend’s gaze probing, however kindly, into things she didn’t want to reveal. “It’s just, well, all the stress of getting the restaurant ready for last night—”

“Right,” Sara agreed, though she was only being polite, and Brynne knew it. “Relax, Brynne. Have another glass of wine, and then we’ll get dinner on the table. And I’ll be a model of tact from now on.” She paused to cross her heart. “I promise.”

Brynne laughed, in spite of herself.

“What?”

“You, a model of tact,” Brynne replied. “I can’t picture it.”

Sara laughed, too. Then she leaned forward and hugged Brynne.

Before either of them could say anything, a ruckus erupted in the general vicinity of the front door.

Both women left the kitchen, Sara untying her apron as she went.

Melba Summers had just arrived, wearing a soft, formfitting red dress and strappy high heels. Since she was rarely seen in anything but a uniform, she made quite an impression.

She was carrying a covered bowl in the curve of one arm, and she beamed at her daughters as they rushed her, shrieking in delight.

“What are you two doing here?” Melba asked, in genuine surprise. “You were supposed to be spending the night with your grandmother!”

“Dad made arrangements with Grandma and had one of his men pick us up at her place,” Jill said, bouncing happily on the balls of her feet. Like her sister, Carrie, Jill would grow up to be a stunner; they both resembled Melba. “We got to ride in a Hummer!”

Just then, Dan filled the doorway to the den, taking in his ex-wife’s wildly curly ebony hair and knockout figure and looking as though he’d just been poleaxed. Eli stepped around him, a slight grin curling one side of his mouth.

“Hello, Deputy,” he said. “Lookin’ good.”

She made a face at him, but her eyes were bright with mischief.

Melba searched the room for a safe place to land her gaze and found Sara. “I brought Waldorf salad,” she said, almost shyly, holding out the bowl she carried.

Sara hurried to take the bowl and make her guest comfortable. “I’m assuming my brother told you Dan would be here,” she said in a loud whisper, slanting a challenging glance at Eli.

Eli raised both hands, as if in surrender. “I told her,” he swore.

Dan looked flummoxed. “I just wanted us all to be together,” he said, addressing Melba directly. Brynne wasn’t sure he was aware, just then, that anyone else was in the room. “You know. Start the New Year out right.”

Something softened in Melba, a visible relaxation of small muscles and wary thoughts. “Dan Summers,” she said, “you know I don’t like it when you involve the girls in your business. Hummer or no Hummer, I don’t trust any of those people you hire from God knows where to look after our daughters.”

Dan puffed out his cheeks, collapsed them again by expelling a