chocolate started talking to me. Oh, and I’m a normal person, right, Soren?”
Oh, for fuck’s sake!
The kid’s jaw dropped. “You let her eat all of those?”
He shook the bag in the guy’s face. “I thought they were candy!”
“They are. Candy with a decent amount of THC mixed in.”
Dammit! That was exactly what he’d feared when he’d smelled them.
“These are marijuana gummy bears?” he hissed, lowering his voice, then glanced over to find Bridget tapping a row of hanging pots, telling each cooking utensil that she was a normal person.
Heat rose to his cheeks. He’d been the only one with Bridget all day. If her sister saw her like this, God knows what she and the rest of the Abbotts would think. After the stripper incident, he was already walking a thin line with Tom and, if he wasn’t careful, he was in jeopardy of damaging their relationship. He needed to be stealthy in his tactics. If anyone thought he’d had a hand in Bridget’s stoned-out-of-her-mind condition, he’d be screwed.
He pinned the kid with his gaze. “Is she going to be okay?”
Tanner gave him an exceptionally hesitant shrug. “I mean technically, yes. Everything she ingested is organic. She’s just had a lot. Like…a lot, a lot.”
He blew out a tight breath, then checked on his baked vixen. She wasn’t upset or in pain. She was just talking to a spatula.
He paced the length of the kitchen. “Should I take her to the hospital?”
“Take who to the hospital?”
Ah, shit! He recognized that haughty Harvard lilt.
Lori, Tom, and the rest of the Abbotts filed into the kitchen, with Bridget’s sister sporting a scowl.
“Birdie, is everything okay?” she called.
Bridget looked up, and his heart jumped into his throat.
She grinned at the group. “Hey, everyone! I have hands, and I’m a normal person.”
“What?” Denise asked, her gaze pinballing from Bridget to him.
Just as he’d expected! If they thought anything was wrong with Bridget, the blame would fall squarely on him.
“Are you feeling all right, dear?” Grace pressed.
Bridget set down the spatula. “I think I can smell color.”
Grace shared a perplexed look with Scott.
“Hey, you all remember me. I’m Tanner from the kitchen at the mountain house,” the kid said, breaking into the conversation and taking the attention off the baked bridesmaid.
“Living in the mountains of Colorado, I’ve seen people act like this before. I think this lady has altitude sickness. She probably needs some rest. Like, six to eight hours of solid rest,” Tanner added, catching his eye.
He gave the guy a minute nod. What the hell was he supposed to do with her for six to eight hours?
“Scooter, you and Birdie have been together all afternoon. Has she been like this the whole time?” Lori asked, sounding very lawyerly. But the worried glance she shared with Tom was decidedly more concerned than upset.
“It just came on. I think she’s exhausted. She didn’t get much rest last night,” he answered with a wave of his hand, going for casual as Bridget bent down and smelled a rolling pin.
“How would you know that?” Tom asked, sharing another look with his fiancée.
“Know what?”
“That she didn’t get much rest,” Tom pressed.
He parted his lips, wondering what verbal vomit would spew out of him when Bridget raised her hand like she was in third grade.
“I can answer that!” she chimed. “It’s because—”
“Because you told me that you were a little sleepy when we were baking cookies,” he interrupted, then turned to Lori. “I think your sister needs a little air and some rest.”
Lori squeezed his hand as the mistrust in her eyes morphed into worry. “Thank you for keeping an eye on my sister, Scooter. I think you’re right. Birdie, do you want us to take you back to the mountain house?”
Anxiety welled in his chest. He had to get Bridget out of there and away from these people. It was only a matter of time before somebody figured out that she wasn’t suffering from altitude sickness.
He plastered on a grin and turned up the wattage. “There’s no need for everyone to go. I’ve got the truck, and I know how important it is, especially to your sister, for you to put on the spaghetti dinner. Here are Bridget’s cookies. I de-blossomed her, I mean, them—the cookies. I added the chocolate kisses to the peanut butter blossoms,” he blathered, handing over the basket when Cole and Carly ran into the kitchen with Dan on their heels.
“Scooter! Birdie! There’s a room full of Santa’s helpers out there!” Carly called.