“So you’re the next Barratt bride?” Someone slapped a newspaper with a familiar cartoon garlic down in front of Annie. She looked up from where she was sipping the only soda she allowed herself each day. She needed the caffeine. Syrus had kept her up late the night before, suffering from yet another ear infection. He was most likely going to need the tubes in his ears eventually. She needed to have a word with Nikkie Jean about her opinion on that. He just never had been able to handle even the mildest of colds well.
Jillian and Nikkie Jean stood there, looking at her expectantly.
“Shhh!” Annie scoped out the cafeteria, reassuring herself that no one was listening to them. “No one knows it’s me. Here, anyway. Yet.”
“Well, we do. The green scrubs gave you away. Within seconds.” Nikkie Jean sank into the chair across from her. She had a tray laden with food and was eyeing it like she was starving. Jillian had a matching tray. “Not to mention the porch. That thing stands out like Cinderella’s pumpkin.”
“No kidding,” Jillian added.
“I love it when Linda works,” Nikkie Jean said, poking a plastic spoon into her chocolate pudding cup. She had two cups on her tray. “Always gives me extra pudding. She likes me.”
“You mean she gives you extra food without charging you.” Annie’s lips twitched. Linda, who had once worked as an obstetrics dietician, had a soft spot for pregnant women who worked in the hospital. It was well-known.
“Something like that. She keeps telling me she hopes that if she feeds me enough, I’ll finally grow.” She shot Annie a grin. Nikkie Jean was a bit sensitive about her lack of height, but she hid it with snarky jokes. And she took people’s comments with her characteristic good humor. “I told her I finally am growing. At last. I’m just growing out instead of up. Or…around, rather.”
“No kidding,” Jillian said, eyeing Nikkie Jean’s bump. Which was quite a bit bigger than her own now. “Are you sure there’s not more than one in there?”
“Well...as sure as we can be. I don’t think Caine’s number five is hiding in there. But it’s possible. It would be awesome if there was. And he’s hit doubles before. I’ll need to calculate the odds.” A seriously intrigued look went through Nikkie Jean’s eyes behind the glasses. Today’s had tiny cartoon tornados on each frame. Where she’d found them, Annie didn’t have a clue. She suspected the glasses were custom-made. As were the rest of her ever-changing eyewear. Whereas other women bought jewelry, Nikkie Jean bought eyeglass frames. From somewhere. Annie had never asked.
Typical Nikkie Jean.
“I sincerely hope that if there are twins to be born to our men, that it’s you and not me,” Jillian said with feeling.
“I’m pretty certain it’s just one. We’ll check with the next ultrasound. We’re scheduled for next week.”
“Still don’t know the sexes?” It was getting close to that point for both, she thought.
“Hmmm. We know. We’re just not telling,” Jillian said, a secret look in her brown eyes.
“Can’t tell on Jelly Bean. Baby won’t stay still long enough to get a good shot. But that was at the last checkup. Layla promises she’ll try again next time.” Nikkie Jean waved the paper between them. “But back to this. You are kissing the mayor. Well, if you were aliens, I’d say you were trying to suck his face off and devour him. Doing a good job of it, too. So...spill.”
“What’s there to say? He walked me home, we talked a bit, sat on the swing, he kissed me. And apparently one of my neighbors decided to make a few bucks selling photos to the Snotty Garlic.”
And Annie was fighting the anger that brought. The only thing that had saved her from being the talk of the hospital nurses had been the fact that her name had not been mentioned. And Turner’s strong back was to the road, blocking her from the camera.
“But the orange porch swing is very distinctive,” Nikkie Jean pointed out. “All anyone has to do is drive down Boethe Street and your secret identity will get outed. It may just be a matter of time.”
“I know.” That had been something she’d considered after a phone call from her mother—an avid Garlic subscriber—had given her the third degree, as well as pointed out that a man like a Barratt wasn’t the type of man Annie would ever be able to hold onto for long. Her mother had practically cackled it.
Her mother was adamant that Turner was just trying to get Annie in his bed for some inexplicable reason. Or use her to further his political agenda. Annie wasn’t enough of a woman to capture a man like Turner’s interest long-term, after all. At least according to her mother.
It had to be because of the storm.
Or a publicity stunt. His cozying up to the young single mother injured in the storm would look damned good to voters. Annie was just a tool.
Her mother’s attitude didn’t surprise her in the least. Her mother always had made it clear Annie only had a few things going for her. Number one was her willingness to work. Number two was that she didn’t make waves or cause trouble. That was just about it.
Neither of those qualities would catch her a millionaire. Annie just needed to get that idea out of her head, right away. Before she did something completely stupid.
Annie hadn’t known what to say. What she had said wasn’t repeatable, and had been followed up with her ending the call and blocking her mother’s number.
Annie had taken the power to hurt her away from her mother long ago.
Annie had made that perfectly clear on the phone that morning. She seriously doubted she’d hear from her mother for a very long time. If ever again.
Although, that was a blessing as far as Annie was concerned.
She’d only tolerated her mother for the last two years, anyway. Since her mother was the foster parent the boys had originally been placed with.
It had taken some doing and some favors Jake had called in from somewhere to get Annie added to the boys’ case files a few months later.
But Jake had made it happen. Fortunately, the boys had a better caseworker than Josie had. Their caseworker was a miracle worker. If it hadn’t been for her, Annie’s mother would have still had a huge say in what happened to the boys. The caseworker had fought for Annie.
Now, the boys were hers.
Her mother hated that Annie had won that battle against her.
“Mom pointed out that it was probably a publicity stunt on Turner’s part.” She rolled her eyes at Nikkie Jean. Nikkie Jean had met her mother once—that had been a fun experience. Nikkie Jean had trouble behaving sometimes. Especially when she thought she was protecting someone she loved. “I’m just hoping it’ll blow over in a day or two, anyway. Once someone gives actual coverage of last night’s meeting.”
“Your mother is such a piece of work,” Nikkie Jean said, her gaze going to the cafeteria entrance just as her own father walked in, a bunch of men—including Jillian’s husband—and women in suits behind him. “Oh boogers. Speaking of parents...If he’s here now, it’s only a matter of time before he finds his way to Barratt County.”
Annie winced on her friend’s behalf.
Nikkie Jean’s father had officially purchased both Finley Creek General Hospital and Barratt County a week ago. It had been everywhere on the news sites. Barratt County—where Nikkie Jean’s fiancé was the chief of medicine. A fact no one had bothered to share with Nikkie Jean’s father.
When Nikkie Jean and her father did come face-to-face, there were going to be some serious fireworks ignited.
Annie would almost pay to be a fly on the wall when Jordan Carrington realized the chief of medicine he’d been arguing with so heatedly via emails and phone conversations—both men had very different visions for Barratt County—was the father of his grandchild.
Caine wanted to let it fly with Jordan Carrington, for Nikkie Jean’s sake, but he was also very, very good at running his hospital. And he had a staff depending on him to do it to the best of his ability.
It was going to be a massive blowup when things finally boiled to the surface.
Caine would be stuck right in the middle.
“Don’t go anywhere,” Jillian said, firmly. “Don’t let him run you off, Nik. Even if he owns the hospital now, you have a contract.”
Nikkie Jean shot her a baleful look. “I own the hospital now, too. I’m never going to be able to escape him.”
“What?” Annie and Jillian asked in unison. Way too loudly. They drew looks. Nikkie Jean shushed them, then leaned forward. Annie watched Jordan Carrington study his daughter from clear across the cafeteria, where he now stood with Jillian’s husband. Annie leaned forward, as did Jillian. “What’s going on?”
Before Nikkie Jean could answer, her name was called over the intercom system. An emergency with a patient. Nikkie Jean jumped to her feet.
“Go,” Annie said, already grabbing the wrappers. “I’ll get your tray.”
“Save me the cookies. I’m absolutely starving.”
“No problem. And we’ll finish this conversation later.”