Wishes and Stitches by Rachael Herron Read Free Book Online Page B

he’d actually have to eat a leaf or two to get poisoned.”
    â€œSo?” Jake said. “It’s only a problem if it happens once, huh? Now , Milo!” Taking a deep breath, he went on, “You settled in okay over there at Shirley’s?”
    Mouth full of his last pickle, Rig nodded. After he swallowed, he said, “Took about a minute to move in. Nice little cottage. Just had to put my clothes in the drawers and my books on the shelf. And hey, my bike fits in her shed, so I won’t need to borrow your garage.”
    A frown creased his brother’s face. Rig’s hand rose to his own forehead. He was a year older than Jake. At thirty-five, did he have that same deep wrinkle?
    â€œAbout the motorcycle.” The crease on Jake’s face got more pronounced.
    â€œOh, boy.”
    â€œYou know how much I hate those things.”
    â€œI do.”
    Jake rubbed his temples. “Sure, you’re a doctor and all, but do you have any idea what a motorcycle rider looks like at the scene of being hit by a semi? Have you ever witnessed people trying to get a helmet off a rider so they can do CPR when the helmet is embedded in his neck?”
    Milo made a vroom-vroom noise and raced the ketchup past the mustard. “Want a motorcycle!”
    â€œDude.” Rig glanced meaningfully at Milo.
    â€œDon’t worry about him. At least he’ll never ride one.”
    Milo squeaked. Then his eyes filled and his body tensed. “Motorcycle!”
    â€œYou see?” said Jake. “He already hates them.”
    â€œI promise to be careful,” Rig said. It was the best he could give his brother. He wondered for a brief second if Naomi Fontaine ever rode a motorcycle. That curly hair would get all messed up, get wild and tangled. And would she hold on tight, or lean with him easily into the curves?
    Dumbass . Rig shook his head and started picking up plates as Milo launched himself into one of the full-blown fits he was getting better and better at lately. He loved his nephew, but damn, this was one good reason not to live in his brother’s bachelor pad. His ears felt like they were bleeding. The best Rig could do was ignore it and keep clearing up while Jake cajoled, and Milo stiffened more and more, finally dropping to the ground, beating the grass with his fists, crying almost unintelligibly about motorcycles.
    With flight in his eye, Frank trundled back into the house, empty tumbler in hand. “I gotta get on the computer. I swear to God you kids never did that.”
    Rig bet they had. And he bet that his mother had handled it, keeping their tantrums from his father. Keller women were saints, took care of their men, and then they died.
    He was way better off not dating than chancing becoming a typical Keller man. He’d do well to remember that when he was around Naomi at the office, too. No matter how pretty that hair was, Rig was putting himself off-limits except for casual dates that didn’t lead to anything. Like he’d had with Naomi that one scorching night in Portland. Perpetual bachelordom—it was better this way. Simpler.
    His family, three other bachelors, was all that he needed, even if one of them was screaming like an injured sea lion right now. They were everything.

Chapter Eight
    Knitters don’t lie on purpose, but no one admits the full extent of her stash.
    â€”E.C.
    T hat should do it,” said Naomi as she handed the prescription to Mildred, who then gave it to Greta, who put the paper in her purse.
    They were her first appointment of the day. Both of them seventy-five if they were a day, they were attached at the hip. They always came in together, and Naomi was fond of them, even if they slowed down her average patient visit time. Eleven minutes. That’s what Naomi thought was the ideal length of time to spend with a patient—that was time enough to chat, assess, and examine, if one was moving quickly, methodically, with