father who later died, Harrison, Charity and her husband were the closest thing to family Keith had found since his mom remarried while he was away at college. If only Keith could pay back the older man’s generosity by getting Harrison to take his heart problems more seriously….
Temporarily lost in thought, Keith hadn’t realized how quiet it was in the cab of the truck.
“Um, Keith? Is it cool with you if I turn on the radio?”
“Of course. Sorry, I’m usually more companionable than this, I was just thinking about…a patient.”
“Stumped by a medical mystery?” she asked. “I occasionally tape episodes of House.”
He laughed. “Nothing that dramatic. And only a really talented actor can pull off that bedside manner. The people of Joyous expect someone more traditional.”
“You got that right,” she muttered, a scowl darkening her face. But then she forced a smile and reached for the radio dials. A twangy ballad about a redneck Romeo seeking his honky-tonk Juliet spilled from the speakers.
“Yeesh.” She punched the buttons quickly.
“Not a fan of country music?” he asked. There were a few other options in this neck of the woods, but not many.
“My view on music mirrors my philosophy on men,” she told him with a mischievous glance. “I don’t have just one type, but I am selective. That song was bad on many levels. Ah. This is more like it.” She’d landed on a classic rock station for the opening chords of a late-seventies hit.
Keith smiled as he turned up the volume. “This one’s a little before your time, isn’t it?”
“Baby, I’m timeless.” She flashed him a grin that nearly had him skidding off the road.
It occurred to him that, since moving to Joyous, he’d been subjected to a much different male-female dynamic than he’d known in his twenties. Lately, potential romances involved aging couples with single daughters inviting him to Sunday dinner or available women bringing him frozen casseroles and gelatin molds. Treble hadn’t meant anything by her throwaway comment, but there was a lot to be said for a brazen smile and baby-doll T-shirt over a strawberry gelatin salad.
Not that Keith would ever do more than appreciate from a cautious distance the smile that belonged to the notorious prodigal stepdaughter of Harrison Breckfield. As appealing as she might be, the woman had trouble written all over her, and that was the last thing Keith needed in his new life.
Chapter Three
By the time they’d rolled into town on picturesque streets flanked by storefronts and pink flowering crepe myrtles, Treble was so tense she felt as if her neck muscles might actually shatter. If Keith had noticed, he hadn’t commented. About all he’d done was occasionally bob his head in an endearing manner along to guitar riffs and drum solos. Maybe he was oblivious to her stress, but weren’t doctors trained to be observant? She’d flinched when they’d passed the town limits sign.
Technically it read Welcome To Joyous, Home of Famous Breckfield Ice Cream, but judging from her suddenly clammy palms and the unpleasant way her stomach had flipped, it might as well have proclaimed, Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here. Get a grip, girlfriend. Nothing scares you, remember? Well, except low ratings and spiders. She was only human.
A fan had asked her once if she ever worried about losing her train of thought or not knowing just the right comeback. Treble could say she truly wasn’t too worried about that. Saying something that got her called into the boss’s office the next morning was possible, but speechlessness? Unlike her. In fact, in times of nervous crisis, she usually talked more, relying on her radio persona until she felt balanced again.
She relied on chatting now. “Will you be taking me straight to my sister’s or are we going to the garage first?”
“Your call.”
“I do like an accommodating man.”
He shot her a quick look with those too-dark blue eyes. A shiver—the good kind—rippled through her.
“Penny for your thoughts,” she said.
The corner of his mouth quirked. “Doctors make decent money, even out here. I can afford to keep this to myself.”
“Spoilsport. Do you need to rush back to the practice?” she asked. “I missed lunch and owe you for the ride. I could buy us some barbecue.”
“Not necessary. This was a favor for Charity. But if you’re hungry, I’ll stop and eat with you.”
A favor for Charity. There’d been a protective note in his voice. If her sister weren’t so happily married, Treble might have entertained a twinge of envy. As it was, she found herself curious.
“So…you’re pretty good friends with my family?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She waited for him to elaborate before realizing he’d completed the thought and showed no signs of voicing another. Treble was nothing if not hardheaded, a trait her mother had remarked upon often. “How did you meet them?”
“In a town this size? I’ve met most everyone.”
She already knew he wasn’t as talkative by nature as she was, but now she got the distinct impression he was actually stonewalling her. Did he not want to discuss her family? It wasn’t as if she were a stranger nosing around for Breckfield secret recipes, for crying out loud. She was making small talk. Okay, and prying a little, too, but they were her family.
Maybe she should tackle his instead. “Do you have relatives in the area?”
“No.” His jaw tightened in punctuation.
Well, she was just batting a thousand. By the time they parked in front of Adam’s Ribs, her appetite was no longer her top concern. What had Keith heard about her? Charity wouldn’t have said anything bad, not purposefully, but the doctor was a friend of Harrison’s. Had her stepfather disparaged her? Was he glad she’d done the sisterly thing by coming home, or did he wish she was still in another state? Treble told herself she didn’t personally care, she just didn’t want any latent tension or awkward moments upsetting Charity this late in a complicated pregnancy.
Whatever bad karma was responsible for her defunct car apparently hadn’t finished toying with her. Feeling borderline apprehensive already, the last person she needed to see the second she stepped into the smoke-scented restaurant was Rich Danner. Now you know that’s not true, Treb. It could have been Mitchell Reyes… But her mind immediately shied away from that memory and the pain associated with it. Rich Danner was bad enough.
He’d been a high school senior, two years older than her, the year her mother had been killed by a drunk driver. Treble had desperately needed solace and felt outside the circle of grief Harrison Breckfield shared with his younger natural daughter. Blindly adoring, Treble had turned to Rich.
More than a decade later and he was still good-looking, she noted dispassionately. Was there no justice in the world? Ex-boy-friends who casually took your virginity, then moved on to college and older girls, were supposed to go bald and develop a paunch. It should be a law of physics. Rich’s black hair was close-cropped, but showed no signs of
