on something else—fast. She jumped a little in her seat.
“What? Yes. I had an apple and some crackers with peanut butter.” She looked a little confused.
“How long ago was that?”
“Between Lena Morales and Winona Preston’s prenatal visits. About eleven, I guess.”
“It’s almost eight. We can’t be talking food and menus with you wasting away from hunger. That’s no way to make an informed decision. C’mon up. I’ve got chicken salad and flat bread. I’ll make you a sandwich.”
“I can’t.”
“Sure you can. I didn’t do the cooking. My mom did. Old family recipe.” It was time they got out in the open what had happened between them that night six weeks earlier. She’d been scared and exhausted when he’d come across her in the hospital waiting room the second night after Lydia’s heart attack. He’d only meant to offer her something to eat and a place to kick back and relax for a while. It had ended up being much more than that. “It’s only for a sandwich, Devon. You don’t have to be afraid I’m going to try and get you into bed again.”
Her gray eyes met his brown ones without flinching. “I’m not afraid. But I really am too tired to deal with this.” She waved the paper at him.
Miguel straightened, putting a little distance between them. It had been his fault that night. He’d let the situation get out of hand when she’d been frightened and alone. Hell, who would have guessed the same fire that had sparked between them as teenagers would flare out of control all these years later? Their coming together had been spontaneous and white-hot, unplanned and unprotected. At least they’d dodged the pregnancy bullet. Although the thought of his baby growing in Devon’s belly was a consequence he would have welcomed, it would only have made a complicated situation impossible. He reached out and plucked the sheet of paper from her hand. “Okay, I’ll tell him half chicken and half fish and we’ll just let people fight it out at the buffet table.”
“You can’t do that.”
“Then we’ll order one of each for everyone.”
“That’ll cost a fortune.”
“Money’s no object.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“Then come in and let’s take our best guess on who wants what.” He stepped back so she could pull into his driveway. She hesitated as though she might still refuse. He held himself still, kept his expression neutral. It had taken him six weeks to get her alone again. He was an officer of the law. He was a U.S. Marine. He had self-discipline. He could do this. He could keep his fly zipped and his hands to himself—if he really put his mind to it.
“THANKS. I NEEDED THAT.” Devon pushed her empty plate away. She’d thought she’d be too nervous to eat, returning to the scene of her complete lapse from sanity, but she’d managed just fine. Miguel’s mother was a great cook, and her chicken salad, Southwestern style, was the stuff of dreams. She’d eaten the sandwich and a dish of fruit salad besides. She picked up her glass of iced tea and took a look around.
She’d only been in Miguel’s cabin that one time, and never in the kitchen. It was neat as a pin. The cabinets were pine and so was the paneling on the walls. The floors were tiled in the same soft sandstone color as the countertops. A traditional adobe fireplace was set in one corner with a drop-leaf pine table and two chairs in front of it. From where she sat in one of those chairs, Devon could look out the window and see part of a cabin farther up the mountain. She hadn’t realized Miguel could see her place from here.
Her gaze swung from the view to the man sitting quietly in the other chair, making notations beside names on the guest list. He was frowning slightly while he wrote, winged eyebrows drawn together over eyes as dark as night, eyes that only hinted at the heat and light at his core. She slapped a lid on her thoughts. She wasn’t going to go there.
“Okay, I’ve done the math. Put me and Nolan down for chicken. And your grandmother?” He gave her a quizzical look and she nodded. Lydia didn’t like fish. “My mom and dad will probably want the salmon.”
“Mine, too.”
“Your grandfather Kane isn’t coming, right?” he asked next.
“His health isn’t good.” Lydia and Devon’s grandfather had been divorced for many years. He’d never known about Kim’s mother, the child Lydia had given away at birth years before he met her. But he was a kind and loving man who would welcome Lydia’s grandchild into his family, Devon knew. “Kim and Nolan are going to take Sammy to visit him before school starts.”
“What about your uncle Bradley and your cousins?”
“Uncle Bradley and Aunt Irene will be here. Derek and Jason can’t make it. They’re coming for Christmas instead.”
“Fish or chicken?”
She blinked. “I have no idea.” She should call her mother and ask, but if she did that, Myrna would insist on coming out to help plan the party. That was the last thing Devon needed. Her mother had a heart of gold, but she was also domineering and opinionated. She loved to run the show, and usually did. The few days she’d been in Enchantment after Lydia’s heart attack had been a strain on everyone involved.
“Let’s say one of each then. Fish for Father Ignatio. His cholesterol is sky-high.” He made a check on the paper. “That leaves you and the bride. Which is it?”
“Chicken for me,” Devon said.
“And Kim?”
“I don’t know.” The trouble was, even though Kim had asked her to be her maid of honor, she didn’t know her new cousin at all.
“Ask her in the morning.”
“Okay, I will.”
Miguel tallied up the numbers. “That’s almost a fifty-fifty, providing Kim goes for the salmon, and I bet she will.” He was probably right. He was Nolan McKinnon’s best friend, so he had a direct line into Kim’s likes and dislikes.
“The salmon’s five dollars a plate more. Maybe we should just go with the chicken.” Devon winced when she heard herself speak the thought aloud. Being responsible for keeping the clinic afloat was beginning to color her thinking in all sorts of ways.
Miguel grinned across the table at her. “Do I detect a little penny-pinching here?”
“We agreed on a budget, remember? I don’t want to go over. And aren’t Navajos supposed to not be interested in money?”
“The Diné are interested in harmony. Too much money puts you out of harmony with yourself. I don’t have that problem.” He grinned. “I hear the salmon is excellent. And hey, nothing’s too good for Kim and Nolan, right?”
“Right.” She smiled her agreement. It was nice to have someone to help make the decisions.
A pager went off. Miguel’s hand went automatically to his belt, Devon’s to the waistband of her pink scrubs. “It’s mine,” she said. “I left my phone in the car.”
Miguel waved his hand toward the wall.
