Page 37 of Beehives and Broken Heroes

Her stomach growled, pulling her from her thoughts. She’d been so nervous to see Brandon today, she’d skipped breakfast. Whatever. Bigger fish to fry.

Where had Brandon got to? And how long had she been out? A nervous jolt lurched her stomach, and she looked out the windows. It was still bright outside, so there was that. Her gaze darted to the table in the corner with the wrong vase, and she thought of Millie Douglas again, and that dream. She shuddered. Milliehadcome by the store this week, but she’d ducked into the back before she could talk to the woman.

She didn’t have the necklace, didn’t know what her mom had done with it, and despite how angry Allie was at her dad, she didn’t want to hurt her mom. But she remembered the night before they’d moved out and the way her mom had been sitting on her bed in her room, grasping the pearls, and a thought came to Allie.

She folded the blanket and walked across the room to the little table. Reaching underneath, she pushed a little button on the side by one of the legs, and out popped a secret compartment. It was empty, as she’d suspected, but her dad loved secret compartments. He’d loved them so much that he put them in almost every piece he’d made. She glanced around the room at all of her dad’s furniture just in there. Eleven pieces, and nine of them had secret compartments.

If her mom went that route, they’d probably be hidden in her old room—the master suite that Brandon must be in now.

No, she wouldn’t, couldn’t bring it up. She closed the secret compartment. She didn’t want to drag Brandon into this mess any more than she already had—not that she regretted telling him. She didn’t want to push her trust issues with men off on him by association. Brandon had never been anything but kind, honest, and upright with her. She was loath to admit it, but she trusted him. She trusted him as much as she trusted Jo, and that was saying a lot.

Running a hand over her hair, she made her way out of the living room and into the foyer. She cleared her throat. “Brandon?”

Nothing, though she thought she heard the soft sounds of talking coming from the direction of the back door. She headed back down the hall and made her first right, following the sounds, then came to a stop outside the kitchen and the swinging door there. Sounded like the news was on, but they’d never had a TV in the kitchen before, so that was something different also.

Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and pushed in.

Brandon leaned against the island, eyes fixed on a screen he’d set up under the cabinets next to the refrigerator. Behind him sat two plates with sandwiches on them, pickles, and chips. Had he made those?

“Brandon?”

He turned to her, his attention pulling from the TV, a look of almost surprise on his face. She had the weird thought that if she’d tried to sneak up on him just then, she could’ve done it. He was to her side in two large steps, hands on her shoulders and a smile tugging on his lips. “There she is,” he said, leading her to one of the stools at the island. “Are you okay? Let me get you a drink.” He went to the cupboard with cups, the same cups she’d used all her life, though it was the wrong cupboard. He opened the fridge. “I’ve got sweet tea, cola, orange juice—”

“Water, please,” she said.

He went to the tap, which was fed from a well on the property, and got her a glass. She was glad. The water from the well was the best-tasting water she’d ever had. He came back to the island and handed her the drink, then grabbed one of the plates and slid that over too.

“I hope you like roast beef,” he said. “I’m no chef like Cash, but Andy once showed me how to make a mean Philly Cheesesteak.” He turned around with a flurry and grabbed the paper towel dispenser, bringing the entire thing over from its place by the sink instead of just a couple of napkins.

He was fawning over her like a nervous mother hen. She chuckled. “Brandon, I’m fine.”

He gave her a wary look. One that said,Really? Cuz you fainted.

She scrunched up her nose and pulled out the stool next to her. “Please, sit down.”

He grinned and did as she asked.

It was only then that she saw what he’d been watching on TV. A fire had broken out in Charleston. She pointed at the screen, and his gaze followed where she pointed. “Georgia’s Diner!” She covered her mouth. “That’s terrible. We were just there the other day. What happened?”

“Kitchen fire, seems. No one was hurt.” His jaw ticked, and his gaze hardened. The effect of it sent a nervous tingle up her spine. What was that about?

“Well, thank goodness for that,” she said.

He grabbed a remote off the island and turned the TV off. Then he turned to her, grabbed her stool, and spun it around until she faced him dead on.

Butterflies wisped around in her belly.

“Are you all right?”

She nodded. “I’m sorry I fainted.” She dropped her head to her hands. “I’m so embarrassed. I’m not the fainting type. I’m so not missish. I don’t know what got into me.” Actually, she kind of did know what’d gotten into her. She’d gotten so emotional, it’d overwhelmed her into a faint. She was sure of it, and so embarrassed by it.

He pulled her hands down. “You were shocked, and I’m pretty sure you stopped breathing. A good recipe for fainting. Also, have you had anything to eat today?”

She shook her head.

“Well, there you go.” He rested his hands on her knees. “And listen, if the furniture makes you uneasy, I can always—”

“Brandon, it’s fine. I’m fine,” she said. “It’s not like it’s all exactly where it was before. And you’ve added your own touches.”

---