My Sunshine (21 page)

James, a fruitcake? Laura felt sick. Someone was out to get her. That was an undeniable fact. But, oh, God, she didn't want it to be James. When she thought about it, though, she couldn't think of any-one at the clinic she did want it to be.

“Oh, Isaiah,” she whispered shakily. “And here I was, calling to ask if he could be in-vited to the dinner.”

He sighed, and then she heard the sound of his footsteps, Western boots walking on tile. “We can invite him, I guess. His having a thing for you doesn't necessarily mean he's guilty of anything. It only means he bears watching.”

“I just hate for him to eat dinner alone.”

“I'll give him a ring and invite him to join us.” The sound of running water came over the line. “The more the merrier.”

“Will your mother mind?”

He chuckled dryly. “The house will be so packed she probably won't notice. Coulter holiday dinners all begin with the chaotic placement of chairs.”

Laura forgot her worries about James and smiled into the phone. “Chairs?” she repeated.

“Oh, yes. Eating until we're stuffed is only one of the many highlights. Chairs are the first order of
business. I'm one of six kids, remember, and Tucker and I are the only ones who haven't gotten married and started multiplying. Bethany and her husband, Ryan, have two kids. Jake and his wife, Molly, have one and another on the way. Then there's Hank, Carly, and their baby. Zeke, Natalie, and their two kids make four more, and Mom absolutely has to invite the entire Westfield clan.”

“Who are they?”

“Zeke's wife's family. Then, at Mom's insistence, Tucker will bring a date. Your grandmother and some guy named Frank will be there. You and I make another couple. And, knowing my mom, she invited the Kendricks, all their shirttail relatives, and half the hands from Zeke and Hank's ranch, the Lazy J.” He paused, muttering numbers under his breath as he tried to take a head count. “How many does that make?”

“You're asking
me?
”

He laughed again. “Get out your beans, lady.”

“I think that's more than twenty,” she pointed out. “You're on your own.”

“Damn. I forgot to count my folks. Picture sardines squirming in a can. My parents' house isn't that large. I always wonder how my mom pulls it off, but somehow she always does. They rent folding tables and chairs, and she gets those white plastic tablecloths that look like linen. We don't put the tables up until it's time to eat. Until then we just line the living room with two rows of chairs. First thing when we arrive, we all go to work. That way everyone can find a place to sit. It's always mass confusion, with everybody talking at once, and
kids darting through the maze, narrowly avoiding injury from a chair leg to the head.”

It sounded like fun to Laura, who had always enjoyed her own family gatherings. Only the thought of facing such a large number of strangers made her palms go sweaty. “What should I wear?”

“Clothes.”

She snorted and then blushed at the noise she'd made. “You know what I mean. Do they dress up?”

“You'll see a little of everything, jeans, slacks, dresses. Don't worry about it.”

“I want to fit in.”

“You'll look great no matter what. Honestly, it's not a worry.”

Laura had just been looking through her closet for something suitable to wear. Now she wished she'd gone shopping for a new outfit—or possibly whipped one up on her sewing machine.

A silence fell over the line—the kind of silence that occurs when two people find themselves on the phone with nothing more to say.

“Well.” He cleared his throat. “I'll phone James and give him an invite.”

Laura nodded, then realized he couldn't see her. “If you're sure it'll be all right with your mother, that will be nice. At least he'll have somewhere to go.”

“I'll be there about noon. If you can make it that early, great. If not, the actual meal will begin around three thirty.”

Laura didn't want to arrive right before dinner was served. It seemed rude not to socialize or offer to help in the kitchen. “Noon works.”

“Great. I'll see you there, then.” Another silence. Then, “Sleep tight. Don't let the bedbugs bite.”

When the conversation ended, Laura returned to her bedroom to resume the search of her closet. She'd just unearthed three winter dresses and was trying to choose among them when her phone rang again.

She grabbed the portable from where she'd tossed it onto the bed. “Hello?”

“Hi, Laura. Isaiah again. I just called James. He refused the invitation.”

“He did?”

“Flat.” He cleared his throat. “I got the impression he was none too happy to know that you'll be spending the day with me.”

“It's not like that, though.”

“You know that, and I know that, but James doesn't. The guy definitely bears watching. I'll give Tucker a heads-up. James could be our man.”

Laura didn't want to believe that. James didn't strike her as the type to harm an animal. He seemed to truly love the dogs and was always so kind to them. Granted, he usually chatted with her when he visited the kennels. It was possible that he'd been carrying a torch for her since she'd first started at the clinic. But if she had ever made him angry, he'd never given her any indication of it.

“Watch yourself with him. Okay? Just to be on the safe side.” Isaiah said. “If James ever shows up at the clinic when you're there alone, you call me immediately. All right?”

Laura assured Isaiah that she would. After they hung up, she sat on the edge of her bed, staring
blankly at the floor. Maybe she was just a phenomenally poor judge of character, but all her instincts told her that James was innocent.

 

Bent at the waist, one leg extended behind him, Isaiah stood at the kitchen sink, his arms braced on the edge of the basin. He stared thoughtfully out the window into the night, illuminated only by stars and a first quarter moon.
It's not like that,
Laura had insisted when he'd told her that James had sounded miffed about their spending the day together. Intellectually, Isaiah was in complete agreement. It wasn't like that between them—couldn't be like that. He needed a couple more years to build his practice before he got locked down with one woman. A serious relationship? No way. And with a lady like Laura, a serious relationship was the only option.

Then why was he anticipating tomorrow like a green kid looking forward to his first date? And why in the hell had he encouraged her to come so early?
Duh.
A couple of checkers games would take about an hour. What the hell would they do the rest of the time?

He needed to get his head screwed on straight about her. On the one hand, as pretty and sweet as she was, he was totally not interested. But somehow, when the uninterested part of him wasn't on guard, another part of him seemed to be working at cross purposes, asking her to show up early at a family dinner. Not a good thing. If he wasn't careful, he might give her the wrong idea.

Laura was a dear heart. He didn't want to
unintentionally give her hope where there was none and end up hurting her.

 

At ten minutes after twelve the next day, Isaiah, who'd been setting up chairs with one ear cocked toward the front door, heard the bell chime. He had to elbow his way through a throng of chair-bearing relatives to reach the entryway. Then, when he got the door open, all he could do was stare. A gray wool coat folded over one arm, Laura stood on the porch. She wore a dark burgundy dress with a V-neck and long sleeves. Made of soft wool knit, the dress was fitted at the waist, then flared into graceful folds that hung to midshin, revealing a pair of shiny black dress boots that emphasized her slender ankles and shapely calves.
Wow.

“Hi.” She flashed one of those dazzling smiles that showed her dimples. “I hope I'm not too early. You did say noon.”

All Isaiah could do was shake his head.
Beautiful.
She was so damned beautiful. It was enough to make a man's tongue stick to the roof of his mouth. He stepped back to let her enter. When she crossed the threshold into the dimmer light, he still couldn't take his eyes off her. She put him in mind of a glass of wine shot through with candlelight, a locket at her throat glinting gold against her pearly skin. Three of his brothers had married gorgeous women, but in Isaiah's opinion Laura had them all beat hands down.

Watch your step, bucko,
a little voice whispered in his mind. Otherwise he was going to fall in love with this lady—completely, head-over-heels,
irrevocably in love. “You're right on time,” he finally managed to say.

She was staring, wide-eyed, at all the people in the living room. Isaiah followed her gaze and almost winced. His family was okay in small doses, but when everyone got together, it was pretty overwhelming. Hank's kid, now eight months old, was squalling, and Hank was doing the baby-on-the-shoulder two-step while his wife, Carly, a cute little blonde, hovered anxiously at his elbow. Zeke was moving through the room with four folded chairs held high over his dark head to avoid smacking anyone. His wife, Natalie, was belting out “Forever and for Always,” their favorite song, as she arranged the chairs in a tidy row. Jake, the oldest brother, had an arm around his pregnant wife, Molly, and was trying, not very successfully, to execute a waltz step without stepping on anyone's toes. Their son, Garrett, who would turn three in February, and Bethany's son, Sly, who would turn four in April, were taking turns beaning each other with a foam hammer, which they seemed to think was grand fun, judging by their giggles and shrieks. To add to the confusion, Gramps, Natalie's crotchety eighty-five-year-old grandfather, who was deaf as a post, was hunched over her two kids, Chad and Rosie, who sat on the floor in front of the television. He kept yelling, “PlayStation, did you say? Well, I'll be!” Or, “Would you just look at that!” Or, “What'll they come up with next?”

“Sorry,” Isaiah said. “My family's a little much.” Lifting his voice to a yell, he said, “Hey, everybody!
This is Laura. Mind your manners and introduce yourselves!”

Jake whirled his wife to a stop and drew her snugly against him, his big hand resting possessively and with teasing familiarity on her well-rounded hip. Molly, her amber hair a halo of short curls around her face, giggled, moved his hand back up to her waist, and playfully slugged his shoulder.

“Hi, Laura, and welcome!” she called. “I'm Molly. This big galoot is Jake, Isaiah's oldest brother.”

Hank shifted little Hank on his shoulder and peered at Laura over his son's diapered behind. “I'm Hank, second youngest.”

Carly squinted her big blue eyes to see. “Hi, Laura. Carly, here. I'm Hank's wife. I can't see very well at a distance yet. I had eye surgery a while back, and my focus is—”

“Terrible,” Hank inserted, cutting Carly short. “What's she's trying to say is, don't take offense if she sees you later and introduces herself all over again.”

Carly laughed and made kissing sounds at the wailing baby. “This is little Hank. He's presently trying to break Nana's crystal with a high note.”

Ryan Kendrick, also carrying in chairs, deposited a load against one wall, smoothed a big hand over his black hair where it had kicked up in the wind while he was outdoors, and smiled in their direction. “Hi, Laura. I'm Ryan, Bethany's husband.” He glanced around, obviously in search
of his wife. “She's buzzing around here somewhere.”

“Right here!” Bethany spun through the archway from the kitchen in her wheelchair. “Hi, Laura. You're just in time. Mom is trying to stir four pots at once, and I can't reach the stove to help.”

Laura glanced down at her coat, then back up at Isaiah. “I've got food to bring in. On the backseat of my car.” She thrust the coat at him. “Would you mind getting it for me?”

And just like that, Isaiah lost her.

When he entered the kitchen a few minutes later, carrying a cookie sheet laden with two pies, he found Laura at the stove, her pretty wine-colored dress already covered by one of his mother's embroidered white bib aprons. She was stirring stuff, adjusting burner temps, and laughing at something his mother had just said.

“Oh, Laura, you shouldn't have,” Mary cried when she saw the pies. “My goodness, how lovely.” With a sly smile at Isaiah, she said, “Imagine it, a modern-day young woman who can actually bake. Will marvels never cease?” She directed her attention to the desserts again. “My pumpkin got just a little too brown this year. Yours is perfect, Laura.”

The smell of the roasting turkey and ham made Isaiah's stomach growl. He set down the tray and reached for one of the canapés arranged on a platter, earning himself a slap on the wrist from his mother.

“Stay out of those!” Mary scolded.

“But I'm hungry.”

Mary rolled her eyes, poked one little canapé in
his mouth, and then moved the others around to fill in the vacant spot. “Fix a sandwich. These are for company.”

“What am I, chopped liver?”