Makhi curses and in his rush to get his bike—and himself—out of the way of Vonn’s truck. He nearly tips his bike over, which only makes me bury my face against Vonn’s chest and laugh harder. It shouldn’t be that funny, but I feel a million times lighter once I’ve gotten my laughter out.
After Vonn helps Makhi take his bike and both helmets into the garage, we walk into the house and find Nance chopping in the kitchen and Nash sipping a cup of coffee at the dining table.
He sets his mug down, eyes filled with concern when he sees me. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.” My eyes widen with surprise, and I can’t help but smile when he gets up from the table and draws me into a deep hug. “Really, I’m fine.”
“I would have come with Vonn, but things got a little crazy around here.” Pulling back, he frames my face and gives me a searching look. “You look a little dusty.”
“They probably had to dive for their lives,” Nance says, a hand on her heart. “I’ll make some peppermint tea and cookies to get your sugar levels up. Sit down, Byrdie.”
No one has ever cared so much about me before. It feels like coming home to a family I always wished I had. “I’m okay, Nance. Makhi rolled us off the road into a bush.”
“For safety,” Makhi calls out, one hand raised as if expecting to get extra credit.
Vonn gives him a loaded look.
Makhi puts his hand down, sits back in his seat, and looks away from Vonn. Meanwhile, my cheeks burn because what we did in the bush had absolutely nothing to do with safety. When Nash’s glance at Makhi and me is followed by his eyebrow rising, he soon works it out.
“There was no sign of the shooter,” Vonn says before Nance can ask me a question I see burning in her eyes.
Nash leads me to the table and pushes my chair in after I’ve sat.
Nance walks over and presses a mug of peppermint tea into my hands. “It still needs to steep, but holding it should give you a bit of comfort. I’ll get started on a batch of chocolate chip cookies.”
Makhi lifts his hand from the seat next to mine. “And my tea, Nance?”
“You’re perfectly capable of making your own,” Nance says firmly. “You have enough energy to risk breaking your neck speeding on that bike, and disheveling Byrdie’s clothes in a bush.”
Nance has sharp eyes and sharper instincts. She terrifies me sometimes.
Blushing, I lift my mug to my mouth, wishing it were bigger to hide my hot face.
But despite Nance telling Makhi he should make his own tea, she returns to set a mug down in front of him. “Here. And no more speeding on that bike. You’re too young to wrap yourself around a tree.”
“Thanks, old bird,” he says fondly.
She reaches for the mug, and he grabs it before she can take it back.
“Trouble,” she tells him.
“But oh so lovable?” He makes puppy-dog eyes at her.
Shaking her head at him, she walks to the pantry and gathers ingredients to make chocolate chip cookies.
“Should we tell the sheriff about the shooting?” I ask Vonn. “I know he doesn’t like any of you, but maybe he’ll send the deputy to investigate.”
“No need to worry about coming up with a solution to that right now,” Vonn says.
I stare at him as if he’s lost his mind. “But someoneshotat us.”
“And we’ll figure it out,” he says calmly.
Nance is whistling as she mixes cookie dough.
Nanceneverwhistles.
She was concerned about Makhi and me, even though she tried to hide her concern about Makhi. Now that she knows we’re okay, her mood has improved substantially.
