The Pregnant Bride Wore White. Susan Crosby

as he prepared to fix the toast, making everything seem so homey, when it was far from that. They were polite with each other, treading carefully. “It’s a cute little car, and it runs great.”

      “No.”

      “No, what?”

      “You’re not driving it. It’s too small. Too light.”

      “I’ve been driving it since I got here, Jake.”

      “Joe should’ve let you use my car.”

      “He offered it.”

      “Ah.”

      She turned toward him. “Ah?”

      “Stubborn.”

      “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

      He met her gaze. They challenged each other with their eyes. “Are you even supposed to be driving at this point?” he asked.

      “As long as I can be ten inches away from the air bag.”

      He studied her, his gaze traveling down her body and back up. He didn’t need to say anything to get his point across.

      Silence crackled between them. She finished cooking the eggs. He set toast on the plates, then carried them to the dining table.

      After eating a few bites, she said, “Do you seriously think I would put my child in danger?”

      “Humor me.”

      Should she? Dixie had told her recently that damsels in distress were Jake’s specialty, so his overprotectiveness was apparently his default mode. She should probably expect him to come from that position on every issue. Certainly it had been the case in Venezuela, before, during and after the kidnapping.

      “I measure the distance every week, and today would be the day to recheck,” she said, trying but not totally succeeding in keeping her tone from being snippy.

      He looked ready to laugh. She waited, her arms crossed. Then, just when he seemed about to say something, the doorbell rang.

      He shoved away from the table and went into the living room. Keri picked up the empty plates. She couldn’t see who was on the other side of the door, but she could hear a woman say, “I didn’t even get to hug you yesterday.”

      “I guess Joe called you,” Jake said, opening the door wider, letting Dixie in, giving her a quick hug.

      Dixie waved at Keri, then held up a small tote bag. “I brought everything I need, but you’ll need to wet your hair.”

      “Sure. I appreciate this, Dix.”

      Dixie watched him walk away, then moseyed into the kitchen, her curls bouncing. She was a couple of inches shorter than Keri, and curvier, if one didn’t count the pregnancy. “So. How’s it going?”

      Keri slid plates into the dishwasher. “It’s fine.”

      “Fine,” Dixie repeated in the same neutral tone, frowning. “That’s a mild word, especially since the tension was as thick as thunderclouds when I walked in the door.”

      “Just a normal period of adjustment.” She shut the dishwasher and looked for something else to do. Dixie was her best friend, but Keri had confided little about how she’d met Jake, even though she’d ached to tell someone. She wanted to talk about how she felt, get someone else’s feedback to help her see her situation with more clarity. Help her sort through the push-pull of her emotions.

      “Is he okay?” Dixie asked.

      “I can’t tell you. It’s up to him.”

      “Then we’ll never know. He and Donovan are as closemouthed as they come.”

      “Which is one reason why they’re both good at their jobs. Would you like some tea?” Keri asked sweetly, making Dixie laugh.

      “No, thanks. I think I’ll take a chair out to the porch. No cleanup, that way.”

      “Good. He needs sunshine.”

      Dixie took Keri’s hand. “He went through some kind of hell, didn’t he?” Dixie asked quietly.

      After a moment, Keri nodded, not knowing the details, but it only took looking at him to see that much.

      Jake rounded the corner, his long hair dripping wet, a towel over his shoulders. “You remember how I used to have it cut?” he asked Dixie, ignoring Keri.

      “Of course.”

      He grabbed a chair and carried it outside, leaving Keri and Dixie to wonder if he’d overheard their conversation, and if so, how much of it. After a few seconds, Dixie shrugged and followed him.

      Keri wiped down the countertops, checked to see what she could make for dinner later and then was at a loss. The kitchen was clean. She’d finished her thank-you notes. She didn’t feel like watching television, so she wandered out the door. Jake’s eyes were closed, the sun on his face, as Dixie snipped away, the usually direct and forthright woman as quiet as Jake.

      Keri didn’t think she made any noise, but he opened his eyes. She couldn’t read his expression. All she knew for sure was he was exhausted. How much had he slept last night? She’d heard him prowling several times, heard him open the front door and, she assumed, go outdoors a couple of times.

      “So, you moved in with Nana Mae,” Jake said to Dixie.

      “Really?” Keri said before Dixie answered. “Oh, I’m so relieved. She’s tough, but she really shouldn’t be alone all the time.”

      “That’s how I felt. It also means I can quit working for my parents at the hardware store, and fast-track cosmetology school. They’re letting me switch from the part-time program to full-time. I’ll be done four months from now instead of eight.”

      “You haven’t graduated?” Jake asked, as if horrified. He ran his fingers through his hair. “Still there. Okay.”

      Dixie gave him a little shove. “I’ve been cutting hair since I was fourteen.”

      “Isn’t that about the time you and Joe met? Hm. I’m thinking there’s a reason he wears his hair long.”

      Keri smiled, happy to see him teasing Dixie.

      Dixie seemed satisfied with the haircut, then studied his face. “I can shave that beard, too, if you want. Or at least trim it close enough for you to shave comfortably.”