hand to her mouth.
She turned toward the door, intending to race to the bathroom, but the distance she had to travel seemed like a long, long way and her belly was already tensing in rebellion. The thought of throwing up in front of Rhys’s entire family only made her nausea more intense.
“Here.”
Rhys urged her toward the closed door next to the kitchen sink. He twisted the handle and cool air hit her face as she stumbled down the steps and into the yard. She barely made it to the side fence before she bent and retched into the garden bed, the remains of her lunch burning up her throat.
CHAPTER NINE
A WARM WEIGHT landed on the small of her back.
“Are you okay?”
As stupid questions went, it was right up there. She didn’t bother responding, simply remained hunched over, waiting to see if there would be a round two. Rhys seemed to get the message.
“Sorry,” he said. “Ignore me.”
Her stomach was still roiling, trying to decide if it was going to do another impersonation of Mount Vesuvius.
“Here. Give Charlie this.”
She recognized Holly’s voice, and the next thing she knew, a glass of cold water was pressed into her hand. She took it gratefully, rinsing her mouth out several times. Finally she felt able to straighten.
“I’m so sorry,” she said as her gaze found Rhys’s in the darkened yard. “That was…bad.”
His expression was inscrutable in the shadows. “Are you feeling better now?”
“A bit.” She didn’t sound very convincing, probably because she wasn’t one hundred percent certain that her stomach had finished torturing her for the evening.
“Maybe try some more water.”
She followed his suggestion, taking sips from the glass and actually swallowing them this time. Her stomach didn’t seem in immediate danger of exploding and she gave a small, relieved sigh.
“Better?”
“Yes.” Except for the bit where she’d humiliated herself by almost hurling in front of his entire family. Other than that, everything was just dandy.
“Sit down for a second,” Rhys said.
His gesture drew her attention to a low-lying lounger that was angled across the patio. She sank onto it cautiously, not wanting to excite the nausea again. Rhys sat beside her, his long legs bent awkwardly to accommodate the lounger’s low height.
“I thought you said you hadn’t been sick,” he said after a few seconds.
“Until two minutes ago, I hadn’t.”
“So that’s the first time?” He sounded incredulous. As well he might be.
“I was fine right up until I looked at that lasagna.”
He made a small, muffled sound. She glanced at him, and even though his face was poker straight she knew he’d swallowed a laugh.
“It’s not funny.”
“You feeling sick isn’t. But you’ve got to admit, the timing is awesome.”
Maybe tomorrow, or next week, she’d think it was funny. Right now she was too busy feeling queasy and embarrassed and miserable.
“God knows what your mother thinks of me.” And the rest of them. She could still see their shocked faces as she pushed away from the table.
“Kim and Becky both practically lived with their heads in the toilet bowl during their pregnancies. And Mum will tell anyone who sits still long enough that I gave her hell for the first four months of her pregnancy. Apparently they even thought about calling me Ralph at one stage.”
Charlie smiled slightly, despite her still-churning stomach. “No wonder your business is doing so well.”
“Sorry?”
“You’re too charming for your own good.”
“I’m not sure that’s possible.”
She gave him a wry look. He reached out and encouraged the glass toward her mouth again.
“Drink some more water, and stop worrying about my family. You weaseled your way into their good books with that crack about me not being humble. You’re home free from here.”
“If only it was that easy,” she said ruefully.
“Trust me, it is. They’re a cheap crowd.”
She smiled again, very aware that he was working overtime to put her at ease—the way he had last week at the restaurant. Now that she was getting to know him, she suspected it was a purely instinctive reaction for him, as natural as breathing.
“I bet people don’t say no to you much, huh?”
There was a small giveaway pause before he responded. “Not often, no.”
“So I really didn’t have much of a chance that night, did I?” she said. “Once you’d engaged your tractor beam.” She’d been joking, but she could feel him tense beside her.
“You make it sound as though it wasn’t something you wanted,” he said. There was a question in his voice and she realized she’d thrown him off balance.
“I was joking,”