“Busted.”
She jumped, then grinned and put a finger to her lips. “Grab a fork.”
He joined her over the cobbler and dropped an arm around her shoulders. “How you been, sis?”
“Better. The counseling helps.”
Earlier in the year, Terry and Evan had hit a rough patch and separated and, though they’d reconciled, their marriage was very much a work in progress. “Glad to hear it. You know we’re all pulling for you.”
“Stop pulling the plastic back so much. She’ll smell the peaches.” She shoveled in another bite, then swallowed. “So Doctor Tiffany, who’s like twelve years old and twirls her hair, which makes me want to slap her hand, says I have control issues.”
“You? No.”
“Very funny. Don’t put the fork in the sink, dumbass. Put it in the dishwasher or she’ll know.” Terry pulled the plastic wrap back over the cobbler, making sure it was on just so. “So…a baby, huh?”
“Yeah.” Kevin leaned against the counter and folded his arms. “Just my luck. I finally start a family and it’s with the one woman who walks into my bar and doesn’t throw herself at me.”
“I can give you Doctor Tiffany’s number.”
He laughed, then slapped his hand over his mouth. “Shit.”
Too late. “You two better wrap that cobbler back up just the way I left it or it’ll dry out.”
“Yes, Ma,” Kevin bellowed in the direction of the family room.
Terry rolled her eyes, then licked her thumb. “You’ve got a bit of cobbler. Hold still.”
He ducked left and swiped his sleeve across his mouth. “Don’t even think about spit-washing my face.”
“Just wait. Couple years from now, you and Beth’ll be running around spit-washing random people, too.”
He snorted, but his mind had fast-forwarded a couple of years into the future. He’d have a walking, talking little guy or girl of his own. But he wasn’t sure if he and Beth would be running around doing anything together.
Sometimes, late at night when he was staring at his ceiling instead of sleeping, he worried she’d take off. She was nomadic by nature. Her parents lived in Florida. She had no ties to New Hampshire other than the pregnancy. There was nothing to stop her from hitting the road, taking their child with her.
Nothing but him convincing her she wanted to stay.
The happy peach cobbler glow was fading, so he grabbed a clean fork and peeled back the plastic wrap. Just a few more bites.
Chapter Eight
Beth was pretty sure Friday supper shifts were one of the circles of hell. She’d made some good tips, but it was hectic between the regulars and the tourists jumping off the highway for a bite to eat. And, since her conversation with Julia, she’d been concentrating on not resting her hand over the place where she’d soon have a baby bump, and that kind of self-awareness was exhausting.
Unable to summon the energy to be sociable, she let herself in the back door of Jasper’s to avoid going through the bar. She’d already hit the up button on the elevator before she realized she should have taken the damn stairs. You could hear the elevator motor in the kitchen and anybody at that end of the bar could feel the subtle vibration.
Sure enough, she hadn’t even gotten her shoes off yet when there was a knock on her door. She let Kevin in and sank onto the couch.
“I only have a few minutes because it’s insane downstairs,” he told her, and she said a silent prayer of thanks for busy Friday nights at the bar. She wasn’t in the mood for company. He pulled out a cellphone and a user’s manual and handed them to her. “I got you something.”
“What is this?”
“It’s a…cellphone? I know you don’t have one, but you have to have seen them on television, at least.”
“Smartass. I know it’s a cellphone, but what’s it for?”
“Making phone calls.”
“Oh, for the love of…” She tossed the phone on the coffee table and stood up. He was a royal pain in the ass and she’d had her fill of those today. Pushing past him, she headed for the fridge. “Forget it.”
“Okay, I’m sorry.” He touched her arm, but she kept walking. “Beth, come on. It was funny!”
“I’m tired, Kevin.”
“The phone’s yours. I programmed my number in—it’s the emergency contact, too—and my parents and my brothers and Terry and…oh, Paulie. Hell, everybody’s programmed in there.”
He’d bought her a cellphone. She jerked open the fridge door and stared at the contents, as much to cool her face as to find a snack. If she wanted a damn cellphone, she’d buy one. Sure, it wouldn’t have any bells and whistles and it would be a pre-paid thing, but she could buy her own.
“You’re mad.”
Yes, she was mad. “It’s not your job to buy me things.”
“It was no big deal. I went to a family plan and added your line. Cheapest way to do it, so it made sense. They both have texting, too, if you want to try that sexting thing…”