Eve managed to summon up a smile. “It hurts too much.”

“A cracked rib can do that to you.” Grace adjusted the sheet over her. “But it will heal.”

“What time is it?”

Cate twisted her wrist. “A few minutes after six.”

Eve did the math. “So I’ve been in a fog for hours?”

“I think they pumped you full of narcotics while you were in the ER.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t want any more of those.”

“You may feel differently once the painkillers in your bloodstream wear off.” Grace gave her a stern look. “You don’t have to suffer, you know. That’s what drugs are for.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Especially since every movement hurt.

But she didn’t want narcotics.

All she needed was a brown-eyed detective by her side.

Her gaze strayed to the door.

“He’ll be back as soon as he gets off the phone, if his pattern holds.” Cate folded her arms, and one side of her mouth rose. “In the meantime, you’ll have to put up with us.”

She transferred her attention back to her sisters. “Not a hardship.” She reached for both their hands. “I love you guys.”

“Mutual, I’m sure.”

Eve’s lips twitched. Leave it to Cate to resort to their old game of responding with lines from the classic movies they’d watched over and over again while growing up. Mushy wasn’t her sister’s forte, even if her heart was gold.

“White Christmas. And I’m sorry to put you guys through this.”

Never one to be left out, the baby of the family chimed in. “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.”

“Love Story—and you guys are nuts.”

“But we’re your nuts. One for all, all for one.” Grace grinned. “However—we’re not opposed to swelling the ranks.” She flicked a glance toward the hall.

Eve didn’t respond—but it was good to know her sisters were on board with the program.

Because unless today’s drama had given Brent a lethal case of cold feet, from now on her number one priority was getting to know him better—and perhaps, if all went well, adding a fourth Musketeer to her family circle in the not-too-distant future.

Brent dropped more coins into the vending machine, punched a button, and waited for the soft drink can to clunk down the chute.

Come on, Colin. Return my call.

His cell began to vibrate as he retrieved the can of Diet Sprite.

Finally.

He set the soda beside the bottle of Lipton mango iced tea on the table beside him.

“What do you have?” He snapped out the question without bothering to greet his colleague.

“Hello to you too.” Was that a touch of annoyance under Colin’s dry humor?