volunteered. He turned sideways and sidled past her, though he and another man could have walked abreast past her with room to spare.
Dylan hooked a thumb in a belt loop, scanned her up and down, and drawled, “Woman, you have a habit of biting off more than you can chew.”
“Probably.”
“You’re still as pasty as a plucked chicken.”
Sondra leaned against the doorjamb. “I’m a bit plumper.”
“Not by much.” He absently shook his head and twitched a self-conscious smile. “I probably ought to apologize. That sounded a mite bit personal.”
Laughter colored her voice. “Don’t bother. I’ve been plucked, so you can’t ruffle my feathers!”
Dylan started to chuckle. The rich sound filled the barnyard and made something deep inside her glow. During those moments, he looked ten years younger. His loose, leggy stride brought him to her. Without a word, he slipped his arm around her waist and started back toward the house. “Feathers,” he repeated, as if it were the best joke he’d heard in ages.
His strength seeped into her. She offered, “I know chickens don’t drink soda, but this one happens to have a variety of them in the fridge. You’re welcome anytime.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. At the moment, I’m more concerned with you staying hydrated.”
“I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”
“In a pig’s eye.” He crooked another of those smiles. “You may as well be warned: Everyone is going to boss you around unmercifully for the next few months.”
“Aren’t there other women for them to nag?”
“Can’t rightly say. You already discovered that Doc won’t take care of you. It’s not just you, either. BobbyJo Lintz up and moved back to Galveston to stay with her folks until she has her baby. Greg sent her there, but he’s climbing the walls. Other than her, you’re the community’s only mother-to-be.”
“Is that your way of telling me that I’ve suddenly become community property?”
“Yes, ma’am, it means precisely that.” His hold tightened as they mounted the porch steps.
Trying to ignore how much she needed his support, she asked, “How is it the citizens all want to have a say when the town doctor won’t speak a word to me?”
“That’s a good question.” He leaned forward slightly and opened the door.
She stepped inside, looked at all of the boxes, and grimaced. “This mess is awful.”
“You’re not doing a blessed thing other than to laze in bed. Do I need to phone Teresa and ask her to come sit on top of you?”
Teresa’s voice sounded from the living room. “I’d crush the poor gal! I invited myself over because I thought Sondra might be going a little stir crazy. I’m trying my best to fix this rip in the sofa. The movers must—”
“No!” Sondra tried to wrestle free from Dylan. “No! Don’t!”
Dylan’s hold tightened and he rumbled, “Settle down.”
“Don’t let her do it!” She twisted from Dylan toward Teresa. “I don’t want it fixed!”
Dylan strode around to Teresa’s side and looked at a five-inch gash in the fabric. “Sondra, it needs stitching.”
“No!”
Teresa frowned. “Why not?”
“Kenny did it.” She knelt on the carpeting. Reaching out, she tentatively touched the slit. “His footrest had a rough spot.”
Dylan and Teresa exchanged puzzled looks and echoed, “Footrest?”
“On his wheelchair.”
Teresa crouched down and cocked her head. “I’ll bet he’d want it to get fixed up.”
“I know,” Sondra whispered thickly. “But he did it right before he left our place. It was the last time I ever saw him, and I was so mad. . . .”
Dylan hunkered down on the other side of her and tilted her face to his. “No man worth his salt would want you punishing yourself like this, Sondra. So what if you had a spat? You would have made up, too. Let go of this. Patch it up, just like you would have patched up the fight.”
“That’s sound advice,” Teresa concurred. “Do you
Dylan hooked a thumb in a belt loop, scanned her up and down, and drawled, “Woman, you have a habit of biting off more than you can chew.”
“Probably.”
“You’re still as pasty as a plucked chicken.”
Sondra leaned against the doorjamb. “I’m a bit plumper.”
“Not by much.” He absently shook his head and twitched a self-conscious smile. “I probably ought to apologize. That sounded a mite bit personal.”
Laughter colored her voice. “Don’t bother. I’ve been plucked, so you can’t ruffle my feathers!”
Dylan started to chuckle. The rich sound filled the barnyard and made something deep inside her glow. During those moments, he looked ten years younger. His loose, leggy stride brought him to her. Without a word, he slipped his arm around her waist and started back toward the house. “Feathers,” he repeated, as if it were the best joke he’d heard in ages.
His strength seeped into her. She offered, “I know chickens don’t drink soda, but this one happens to have a variety of them in the fridge. You’re welcome anytime.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. At the moment, I’m more concerned with you staying hydrated.”
“I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”
“In a pig’s eye.” He crooked another of those smiles. “You may as well be warned: Everyone is going to boss you around unmercifully for the next few months.”
“Aren’t there other women for them to nag?”
“Can’t rightly say. You already discovered that Doc won’t take care of you. It’s not just you, either. BobbyJo Lintz up and moved back to Galveston to stay with her folks until she has her baby. Greg sent her there, but he’s climbing the walls. Other than her, you’re the community’s only mother-to-be.”
“Is that your way of telling me that I’ve suddenly become community property?”
“Yes, ma’am, it means precisely that.” His hold tightened as they mounted the porch steps.
Trying to ignore how much she needed his support, she asked, “How is it the citizens all want to have a say when the town doctor won’t speak a word to me?”
“That’s a good question.” He leaned forward slightly and opened the door.
She stepped inside, looked at all of the boxes, and grimaced. “This mess is awful.”
“You’re not doing a blessed thing other than to laze in bed. Do I need to phone Teresa and ask her to come sit on top of you?”
Teresa’s voice sounded from the living room. “I’d crush the poor gal! I invited myself over because I thought Sondra might be going a little stir crazy. I’m trying my best to fix this rip in the sofa. The movers must—”
“No!” Sondra tried to wrestle free from Dylan. “No! Don’t!”
Dylan’s hold tightened and he rumbled, “Settle down.”
“Don’t let her do it!” She twisted from Dylan toward Teresa. “I don’t want it fixed!”
Dylan strode around to Teresa’s side and looked at a five-inch gash in the fabric. “Sondra, it needs stitching.”
“No!”
Teresa frowned. “Why not?”
“Kenny did it.” She knelt on the carpeting. Reaching out, she tentatively touched the slit. “His footrest had a rough spot.”
Dylan and Teresa exchanged puzzled looks and echoed, “Footrest?”
“On his wheelchair.”
Teresa crouched down and cocked her head. “I’ll bet he’d want it to get fixed up.”
“I know,” Sondra whispered thickly. “But he did it right before he left our place. It was the last time I ever saw him, and I was so mad. . . .”
Dylan hunkered down on the other side of her and tilted her face to his. “No man worth his salt would want you punishing yourself like this, Sondra. So what if you had a spat? You would have made up, too. Let go of this. Patch it up, just like you would have patched up the fight.”
“That’s sound advice,” Teresa concurred. “Do you
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