Joanne Rock - Whispers Under A Southern Sky

“Hello!” She hurried up the path toward the driveway, dark curls bouncing out of a headband. “Samuel Reyes, you’re taking far too long unloading my grandson.” She edged the sheriff aside and clambered into his truck to work the belts and buckles of the baby’s car seat. “I hope you warned these nice girls they might have to fight me to hold him.” Pausing from her work, she leaned back out of the truck cab to wink at Meg and Bailey. “Not really, girls. I will share.”

“Mom, this is Bailey McCord and Megan Bryer. Girls, my mother, Mrs. Hasting.”

“Nice to meet you, ma’am.” Bailey tried not to cringe at the introduction. Lately, people in town tended to do a double take when they heard the McCord name.

“Of course.” Mrs. Hasting carefully handed Aiden out to the sheriff while she climbed back out of the truck. “The McCords are two double cheeses and the Bryers are a single pepperoni family. Running the pizza shop, I can tell you almost everyone’s usual order. Come on in, girls, and I’ll get you settled.”

Doing as they were told, Bailey noticed the imposing sheriff fell in line, too, making him seem a little less scary. He tucked his aviator shades in his shirt pocket as he followed them toward the door.

“She’ll slow down for a breath soon—don’t worry,” he told them quietly, brushing a knuckle over his son’s cheek with a tenderness that melted her heart.

Seeing that made her regret her words about foster kids all the more. The sheriff had grown up here, and he’d obviously turned out to be a good guy.

They bypassed the front door to walk up the steps to the railed side porch she’d noticed earlier. As they approached the wall of stacked cages, Bailey saw a few rabbits inside. Three of the cages had elaborate houses that looked like craft projects for elementary kids. Made out of empty Kleenex boxes and covered in watercolor paint, the houses had bunny-size doors and carpets made of old pot holders. One fat gray rabbit sat inside his cardboard castle under a painted sign that said Clover’s Crib.

Distracted by the cuteness, she hadn’t noticed a teenage boy emerge from the house. She just turned and suddenly there was a tall, lanky kid on the porch flanked by two younger boys playing tug-of-war with a plastic car. Bailey stilled, feeling awkward to be caught ogling the rabbits, her skirt riding up her calf as she leaned over the cages. Straightening, she tried not to stare at the older boy, whose brown hair fell over one hazel eye.

“Girls, I’d like you to meet my sons.” Mrs. Hasting put a hand on the teen’s arm. “This is Dawson. He’ll be starting at Crestwood after the holidays. And that’s Tucker.” She pointed to the dark-headed boy who’d won the car he’d been wrestling over. “And Nate.” She ruffled the ginger hair of the smaller child. “They know to keep out of your way, but if you need anything and I’m not around, Dawson can help you.”

“Cool shirt,” Megan said to the guy. He wore a T with the silhouette of a dinosaur on a spaceship that must be a video-game reference.

Megan Bryer was not only an A student; she was also a gamer girl extraordinaire. She held the record high scores for just about everything. This gave her a lot more to work with when it came to talking to most guys. She could dazzle anyone who’d ever picked up an Xbox controller in the first five seconds of conversation. Bailey had no such superpower.

“Hi,” she finally said, and probably only managed that because Mrs. Hasting and the sheriff were both standing right there.

Her cheeks heated.

“Good to meet you.” Dawson nodded, making eye contact briefly before stepping aside. “I’ll round up the rug rats.”

He jogged across the lawn after Tucker while Mrs. Hasting invited them into the house. Bailey followed her, eager to move past the awkwardness of meeting new people so she could start her job.

Between what had happened with her mother and her new mission to find anyone who might have been harassed by J.D., she wouldn’t have thought it possible that some random stranger could make her feel even remotely interested in boys again.

She definitely was not.

So about an hour later when she found herself looking out the nursery window to watch Dawson throw a football with the other kids, she couldn’t account for the fluttery feeling in her stomach. It was different from the burn of acidic fear that had been her constant companion for weeks.

It was almost pleasant.

“He’s cute, isn’t he?” Megan’s voice startled her. The sheriff and Mrs. Hasting had left them alone with Aiden.

Embarrassed to be caught staring, Bailey spun from the window.

“I don’t know. I guess,” she blurted. “He’s okay.”

“I thought you loved kids.” Megan tipped her head to one side to study her, frowning. Too late, Bailey realized that her friend held Aiden in her arms.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.