Free brides for brothers 15 - a randall hero by judy christenberry

nap.”
    Griff put a hand on both Camille’s and John’s shoulders. “We can discuss this later. Right now I think dinner is ready.”
    “Oh, yes, of course,” Camille said.
    John turned to stare at his father. “I don’t think this is something we need to discuss. I was just trying to help Lucy.”
    “I know, son. But your mother has a point. You need sleep. Accidents have happened before, you know.”
    His father pulled him to his place. “Sit down, son. You don’t want to have this argument now.”
    “What argument? I’m just trying to—”
    “We’re ready to eat now.” Camille sat down at the table and looked at John and her husband. “Aren’t you going to join us, you two?”
    “Yeah,” John growled, shifting to dislodge his father’s hold.
    Lucy stared at first John and then Griff. Quietly, she said, “If I’m causing problems in your family, I can leave.”
    Griff grinned at her. “No, you’re not causing problems. Besides, we always have problems. You should’ve lived here with my daughter before she went to France.”
    Lucy looked at Griff, a question in her eyes. “She went to France? For a trip, you mean?”
    “Oh, no. Her mother insisted I let her go to France for a semester. And it took her six years to come home.”
    “My, that’s a long trip.”
    “Melissa designs jewelry and she started working for a well-known designer in France,” Camille explained. “She didn’t come back until I needed surgery.”
    “And that’s when Harry met her?”
    “Yeah,” John said. “And he never had a chance. One look at her and it was all over.” Just as it was with him, he thought, after one look at Lucy. Strange that both he and Harry fell for the other’s sister.
    “She must be really beautiful.”
    “Yes, she is,” Camille said with a big smile. “She looks like her father.”
    “No, sweetheart, she takes after you,” Griff said with a smile. “The only difference is that her hair is dark, like mine.”
    “That’s nice, but can someone pass the meat, please,” John said, interrupting.
    Lucy picked up the platter of chicken-fried steak and passed it across the table to John. “Are you hungry, John?”
    “I’m starved.”
    “He’s always hungry when he gets in in the evening,” Camille told her.
    “Does he get grumpy if he doesn’t get food right away, like Emma?” Lucy asked with a smile.
    “Exactly,” Camille agreed.
    “So have some peas, John,” Lucy said, passing the bowl. “And mashed potatoes.”
    John filled his plate high, then grunted as he shoveled in food.
    Several minutes later, John realized Lucy was staring at him. “What’s wrong?”
    “Where do you put all of that?”
    “All of what?”
    “The food.”
    John shrugged. “I get hungry when I ride all day. A cowboy has a voracious appetite.”
    He had a voracious appetite, all right. For her.
    Swallowing the thought, he averted his eyes from her beautiful face. Just before Lucy got up and ran from the room.
     
    L UCY BURIED HER FACE in her arms and let the tears escape.
    She knew she was hormonal after just having had her baby, but even she was surprised by how many tears she shed. And all because she was in lo—No, she refused to say the word. She tried again. All because she had feelings for John. Feelings she had no right to at this point in her life.
    “Lucy?”
    Hearing his voice at her closed door, she covered her head even more. “Go away!” she choked out.
    “I can’t do that. I want to know why you’re crying.”
    “No!”
    He didn’t say anything and Lucy wasn’t going to look to see if he’d gone.
    “Come back and eat your dinner.”
    “No, I’m not hungry.”
    “Lucy, you’ve scarcely eaten. Come finish your dinner.”
    “No, I—I can’t.”
    She heard him open the door, felt him sit down on the edge of her bed. Then his hand settled on her shoulder and pulled her back so he could look at her face. “What’s going on?”
    “N-nothing,” she said, trying to