Sandra Orchard - Fatal Inheritance

He didn’t miss the way she braced her hand on the car fender to pull herself up, either. He moved to her side and, lighting the floor ahead of them, guided her with a light touch to the small of her back. “Do you feel nauseous?”

“A little. But I haven’t eaten since lunch.”

Outside the barn, he steered her toward his place. “Did you lose consciousness after you were hit?”

“I’m not sure. I think, maybe. Everything went black for a second or two.”

“You probably have a concussion. I can do a few tests to see if you should go to the hospital.”

She walked a little taller. “I’m fine really. I just need a couple of painkillers. All the doctor’s going to do is tell me to go home and take it easy.”

“Humor me.”

She squinted up at him, then at the tree line that separated their properties and abruptly stopped. “Hey, where are you taking me?”

“To my house. You said you hadn’t eaten, right?”

“You don’t have to feed me.”

“You’re in no condition to cook. Besides, it’ll be nice to have someone to eat with.” Life had been too quiet around here since her grandparents’ deaths.

“I don’t want to put you out,” she protested.

He nudged her forward. “It’s no imposition.”

She wavered a moment but soon started walking again. “Gramps told me you took over your parents’ place after your dad died. Did you still tinker with Gramps on the old car?”

“Yup. Went with them on one of those organized tours they were always taking, too. Saw some cool places most tourists don’t get to see.”

“I wish I could’ve gone on one. Gramps said he’d take me when I turned thirteen, but that’s when Mom left Dad, and I never got to come back for any more summers.”

He steered her around his truck in the driveway. “Yeah, come to think of it, life got pretty quiet around here without you girls.”

She swatted him.

He let out an oomph and clutched his gut.

“Very funny.”

He smiled to himself and mentally ticked off two of his concussion tests. Nothing wrong with Bec’s memory or her aim.

He led her to the side of the house and pulled out his key. “Feel like a steak?”

“Yuck.”

“You’re kidding? You still prefer a burger to steak?”

“Yup.”

He pushed open the door, flicked on the light and motioned her in ahead of him. “What a cheap date. Guys must love you.”

She squirmed past him into the kitchen, then hesitated, her gaze flagging about, pausing briefly on his Home Is Where the Heart Is plaque, then stealing his way. She looked more uneasy than a suspect in custody.

But unlike with his suspects, he felt strangely sad seeing her this way. “Have a seat at the table while I light the barbecue.” He returned a moment later to find her nuzzling his three-legged pooch.

She spluttered at its exuberant kisses and wiped off the slobber with the back of her hand. “What’s his name?”

“Tripod.”

“I should have guessed. He moves amazingly quick for having only three legs.”

Josh filled Tripod’s dish, and the pooch demonstrated just how quick. “While the barbecue heats up, let’s take a look at this bump of yours.”

She finger combed her hair as if only just realizing how messy it was.

He resisted the urge to tease. Her honey-brown corkscrew curls had always poked out every which way and been peppered with hay or leaves or twigs, depending on where she’d last played.

Dropping her hand, she fidgeted under his perusal. “That bad, huh?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

She rolled her eyes. “You didn’t have to.”

He didn’t bother to hide his grin. “Show me where you got hit.”

She leaned forward and pointed to the back of her head.

He palpated the area. Her hair was incredibly soft and smelled faintly like citrus. “That’s some goose egg.” He reached into his catchall drawer and pulled out a penlight. “Look at me.”

Her shimmering brown eyes turned to him, framed by the longest lashes he’d ever seen. Natural, too.

Her head tilted. “You planning to do something with that light?”

“Patience,” he muttered at being caught staring. He flicked the penlight on and flashed it across each eye. “They look good. Equal and reactive.”

“Why, thank you, Josh,” she drawled, batting those long lashes. “That’s the most romantic thing a man’s ever said about my eyes.”

“What?” He blinked, glimpsed her smirk and gave her a nudge. “You’re cute, Bec.” He tossed the penlight back into the drawer. “Now, stand up, arms out from your sides, and touch each hand to your nose.”

She stood and obeyed his directions effortlessly.

“Okay, take a seat.” He opened the cupboard next to the sink and grabbed a glass and the bottle of painkillers. He tipped two from the bottle, filled the glass with water and handed them to Bec. “Take these, and if you want, you can lie down on the sofa until supper’s ready.”

She planted her palms on the table and pushed to her feet. “I can’t let you cook alone,” she protested, then immediately clutched the side of her head.

“As stubborn as ever, I see.” He scooped her into his arms and gently lowered her onto the sofa. “Rest. That’s an order.”

He turned on his heel and did his best to ignore the scent that lingered on his shirt, as it had after their embrace at the funeral home. “I’ll get those burgers grilling.”

She didn’t argue, which worried him. She’d always been a tough kid. Unless she’d changed dramatically in the past fifteen years, whoever had walloped the back of her head had done a serious number on her. Maybe he should ask his sister to come by after her shift at the hospital and check Bec over. It’d be easier than convincing Bec to go there.

He texted Anne a request to stop by and then pulled out the fixings for a decent supper. Sliced potatoes and onions. Peppers, carrots and zucchini for grilling. He dug through the freezer and unburied a couple of burgers that looked more like frozen hockey pucks. Forget it. She could learn to appreciate the good stuff. He tossed the burgers back into the freezer and pulled out a couple of filet mignons.

An hour later, he’d just set the last dish on the table when she meandered to the doorway, rubbing her eyes.

“Dinner is served.” He pulled out a chair and waited for her to take a seat. To humor her, he’d put her steak on a hamburger bun and brought out the mustard and ketchup. If she noticed the ruse, she didn’t comment.

He took the seat opposite her. “How do you feel now?”

“Hungry. This smells amazing.”

He opted to let her nonanswer go. For now. His sister would be there soon enough. He reached across the table and clasped Bec’s hand.

Her eyes widened.

“Let’s pray,” he said quickly, not sure what to make of her reaction. He bowed his head. “Lord, we pray for Your healing touch on Bec and that You’ll comfort her in her grief. Thank You for giving her a safe journey here and for this food and time together. Amen.” When Josh lifted his gaze, she was still staring at him, moisture pooling in her eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“No one’s prayed for me like that since...Gran and Gramps. I...guess I’d forgotten how nice it felt.”

His throat tightened. She’d still have them if only... He gave her hand a warm squeeze. “Let’s eat.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes, then Bec set down her “burger” and reached for her fork. “What happened to the huge trailer Gramps usually kept the car in?”

“That’s over at Pete’s Garage. Your grandfather had some trouble with the car during the last tour he and your Gran took, so while we worked on finding the problem, he sent in the trailer to have the bearings repacked. I can give Pete a call. Ask him to bring it by.”