In Over Her Head: An Anchor Island Novel by Terri Osburn (reading eggs books .TXT) 📗

We decided she needed family around, so here we are.”

“Where were you before?”

“North Jersey. As you know, life in a busy kitchen gets old. After fifteen years, I’d had enough, so getting word the spot was open at Dempsey’s made the decision an easy one.”

Lauren watched him closely. “You don’t regret it? This island must get boring after a while.”

“Have you been bored yet?” he asked.

“I’ve only been here for five weeks, and those have been spent trying to get this restaurant where I want it.”

Asking a leading question, he said, “Did you go out much back in Boston?”

“Working eighties hours a week doesn’t leave much time for a social life.”

“But you weren’t bored?”

Getting his point, her lips curled into a half smile and some of the earlier light returned to her eyes. “You like to be right, don’t you?”

“Don’t you?” he returned.

“I think you know the answer to that.”

Nick reached for his beer. “Yes, I do. Your food is getting cold over there.”

Eyes on her plate, she said, “Do you mind if I take this home for later? I don’t feel like eating right now.”

Sensing he’d crossed a line, he said, “I’m sorry that I brought up your family. I didn’t mean to pry.”

Lauren shook her head with a resigned expression. “I don’t like to talk about the past, that’s all.”

“Not a problem.” Rising to his feet, Nick picked up both of their plates.

“You aren’t done yet,” she said, reaching to tug her plate back. “Go ahead and finish.”

He would not sit there and eat in front of her, especially when he’d been the one to send her appetite packing.

“It’s fine. Go ahead and sit on the couch while I clean this up.”

“I can help.” She hopped up and immediately groaned.

Chuckling, he carried the plates to the counter. “Like I said, have a seat on the couch. This won’t take long.”

He slid her food into a glass bowl and clicked on the lid as she asked, “What’s this?”

Nick glanced over to see her looking at the photo album on the coffee table. “Mia made that for me for my birthday. A kind of our-family-through-the-years thing.”

After his lunch with Nota, Nick had finally taken the time to flip through it. His collection contained more pictures from their childhood, showing that Mia had personalized the books according to who they were for. He assumed her own looked much like his.

“Can I look at it?” Lauren asked.

“Sure.” Once the leftovers were in the fridge, Nick joined her on the couch. “That’s my dad,” he said as she examined a picture taken in front of the restaurant.

“Is that you beside him?”

“That’s me.” Knowing what she was thinking, he said, “I was going through a chubby phase.”

Her laughter was all the better for how rarely she shared it. “You were just big-boned,” she said, trying to be kind.

“I believe husky was the word on my jeans.”

Lauren turned the page. “Mia hasn’t changed a bit. How old is she here?”

Nick had to look closer. “I’d say about twelve. That’s when she got her braces and started smiling like she was trying to hide a hamster in her mouth.”

“Spoken like a mean big brother.” She scanned the next page, smacked a finger on one picture in particular, and cut her eyes his way. “A white tuxedo?”

“I was fourteen and Lorinda Witherspoon, my date to that dance, picked it out.”

“Then I am judging Lorinda and her middle school taste.”

She turned the page again and caught a blister on the corner. “Ouch.” The damaged digit shot into her mouth.

“We need to put something on those.”

As he lifted off the couch, she tried to argue that she was fine, but couldn’t speak clearly for the finger between her lips. Nick ignored her and proceeded to the bathroom to snag petroleum jelly from his medicine cabinet, but he couldn’t find the bandages. He’d recently used the last in a box, but he was certain he’d bought another when the first had gotten low. The hunt took longer than he’d planned, but he finally found the full box under the sink.

“Here we go,” he said, returning to the living room to find Lauren slumped over and sound asleep.

Leaving the first aid items on the kitchen counter, he grabbed a blanket off his bed, lifted her feet onto the couch so she wasn’t twisted at an odd angle, and then tucked her in. This was not how he’d planned to end the night, but she was in this condition thanks to his suggestion, so he only had himself to blame.

Collecting the items off the counter, he went to work on her hands.

Lauren heard a distant voice calling her name and fought to drag herself out of the darkness. Shifting to stretch her limbs, she moaned in pain and opened one eye. The small effort was for naught since wherever she was, the room was pitch-black.

“Come on, sleepyhead. We need to get moving.”

Brain finally starting to function, she recognized the voice. And immediately panicked.

Jerking upright, she looked around, ignoring her screaming muscles.

“Hello?” she said.

“Over here.” Following the sound, she found Nick in the chair at the end of the coffee table, the glow from his cell phone screen lighting his face. “How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve been hit by a truck. What happened?”

His sexy laugh should not have been so arousing in her half-conscious state.

“You passed out so I let you sleep. The pain pills are on the table in front of you next to a bottle of water. I put a fresh toothbrush on the bathroom sink, and you’re welcome to use anything else you need.”

The pills were a must, but the rest she’d take care of at home. “You should have woken me up and sent me home.” Pulling the band from her hair, she scratched her scalp, counting on the darkness to hide how awful she must look.

“You were exhausted. You didn’t even wake up when I put the ointment on your hands.”

Lauren flexed her fingers and felt