Free Nearest Thing to Heaven (Maverick Junction) by Lynnette Austin Page B

done?”

Chapter Eight
    A nxiety crawled through Sophie’s stomach when she thought of sharing Thanksgiving dinner with what would be, in two more days, Annelise’s family. A stranger in a world where everyone else knew each other. Not her forte.
    She’d rather stay right here in Annelise’s comfortable apartment and eat cold, leftover pizza from last night.
    She’d rather have a red-hot poker stuck in her eye.
    Well, no. She wouldn’t rather that.
    She wasn’t antisocial. She liked people. Played well with others, actually. But she hated being the odd man out.
    “Jeez, Sophie, I don’t understand. Yesterday you were fine with dinner at Babs’s.”
    “I know. I changed my mind, that’s all.”
    Annelise came out of the bedroom, buttoning a beautiful soft blue blouse. She sniffed. “You made coffee. I love you.”
    “I sent Maggie off with a go-cup. She didn’t want any breakfast. Said she had too much to do today.” Reaching into a cupboard, Sophie grabbed a cup and handed it to Annelise. “Here you go. By the way, your dishes are great.”
    A slow smile lifted the corners of her cousin’s lips. “Yeah. Funky, huh? Totally mismatched, but they work. I felt such a—a sense of freedom, I guess, to break away from all the rigidness I’ve always known. I can’t put it into words.”
    Sophie shrugged. “Even when the walls are made of Swarovski crystal, a prison’s still a prison.”
    “It wasn’t that bad.”
    Sophie raised her brows.
    “Okay, it was pretty limiting. Not my parents, but the demands of society, of being watched all the time. Is that why you moved to Chicago?”
    “That and my Cubs.” Sophie grinned. “Seriously? Even though I’m only on the periphery of your life, it washed over. There were times the paparazzi really bugged me. I honestly don’t know how you stand it.”
    “The fish-bowl effect is a whole lot more diluted here. Although I understand every room within a hundred miles has been booked this weekend. All the photographers with their invasive, long lenses hoping to get shots of the wedding.”
    Annelise took a long drink of coffee, her eyes closing. “This is wonderful. And you’ve managed to avoid answering my question. Why don’t you want to go to Babs’s?”
    Sophie sighed. “These are your friends, Annelise. Your new family. I don’t know them. I don’t belong at their holiday celebration.”
    Annelise slipped into a chair across from Sophie and laid a hand over one of hers. “If they’re going to be my family, they’ll be yours, too.”
    “I sure hope not,” she muttered.
    “What?”
    Sophie felt the blush flood her checks. “Nothing. It’s just, well, I’m not so sure I want them all as family members.”
    “Sophie London.” Annelise’s eyes narrowed. “It’s Ty Rawlins, isn’t it?”
    The heat spread to her neck. “No.”
    “Liar, liar, pants on fire. Cash and I were concerned that if we got too near you on the dance floor at Bubba’s, we’d both end up scorched. And again last night.”
    “Argh!” Sophie swatted at her. “You were not.”
    “Were, too.”
    “He’s attractive, okay? But at the risk of sounding redundant, I’ll remind you again he’s a widower and the father of three. He lives in the middle of absolute nowhere with a bunch of long-horned cows and God only knows what else.”
    “Your point?”
    “Finish your coffee, Annelise. I need to dry my hair.” Her phone rang. She checked the caller ID and grimaced.
    “What’s wrong?”
    “Nothing. I just—” With a shake of her head, she answered. “Hello, Nathan.” She listened as he wished her a good holiday. “Yes, Happy Thanksgiving to you, too.”
    “Where are you, Sophie?”
    “Away.”
    “Where?”
    She said nothing.
    After a few seconds, he said, “I’ve been thinking. Why don’t I join you? Spend a little vacation time with you.”
    Her jaw tightened, and she noticed Annelise’s interest in the conversation. Shoot! But she had to hold her ground.