Forever Grace (12 page)

The thought hit like a shock of cold water. Holy hell, where had that come from? No. No settling down. Not now, not ever.

And in the remotest possible possibility that he did? Strawberries and chocolate aside, someone like Grace was even more strictly off limits. He could admire her all he wanted for stepping in to take on those kids the way she had, but the key word here remained
kids.
As in not going there.

Between the job and his own growing-up years, he’d seen enough messed-up families to turn him off fatherhood for several lifetimes.

Sean scowled. Why was he even having this argument with himself? It shouldn’t be an issue. It
wasn’t
an issue. Kids. No. End of discussion. Besides, all of this was moot now, anyway. Grace was gone, back to her own cottage, and he was here. She had no reason to return, and—barring disaster—he had no reason to ask her to. It was done. Whatever
it
might have been.

He set the bottle of painkillers back on the bedside table and turned to go back to the kitchen. A glint of metal on the floor by the pine baseboard caught his eye. With his cast extended behind him in a careful balancing act, he leaned down to scoop up an unfamiliar key ring with a vehicle fob and three keys attached.

Grace
.

She must have dropped it last night when she’d pulled that move on him. Which meant she’d be back to visit.

Warmth tugged at his belly, and the smile returned. Damn. Had his internal lecture meant so litt—

A scream filtered in through the window he kept cracked open for sleep. Thin, high-pitched, and laced with terror. Sean’s heart crashed to a stop in mid-beat, then surged against his ribcage. A single thought gripped his mind.

Grace—kids—bear.

He tossed the keys onto the bed, turned, and thudded out of the bedroom. The maze of furniture in the living room ratcheted up from annoying to deadly, nearly sending him sprawling twice before he reached the sliding doors. He pulled aside the glass so hard, the door bounced out of its track and came to rest at a tilt. He didn’t pause. Didn’t slow down.

He tracked across the deck. The bear. It must have returned. Broken into her cottage. That scream. Had it gotten one of the kids?

The gun
, he urged her silently.
Get to the gun.

He crutched awkwardly down the stairs and across the ink-black ground to the edge of the woods, staggering on the unevenness, searching for the entrance to the path connecting him to the other cottage. Shoving aside tree branches. Cursing under his breath.

Slowly, the night’s silence filtered through to him. He paused. Clamped down on the instinct driving him forward. Remembered he was a cop, trained to assess a situation, not to run hell-bent-for-leather into the unknown. He held his breath, peering through the trees, listening through the hammer of blood in his ears.

The other cottage sat dark and quiet.

No screams, no crashing of furniture, no animal growls.

A light came on in the kitchen window. Grace’s figure appeared. A cupboard door swung open, briefly blocking her from view before closing again. She stood, framed in the light for a few seconds more, then moved away. The light went out. Sean expelled the air from his lungs in a long, slow hiss. His heart rate slowed.

Behind him, from his own kitchen, came the faint sound of the oven buzzer.

Grace was fine.

The kids were fine.

And the scream?

He filtered through the facts. Kids. Night time. Sleep. Single, high-pitched scream that could have come—no, almost certainly
had
come—from a child. His shoulders descended from around his ears.

A nightmare.

He uncurled his hands from their death-grip on the crutches and winced as he flexed them. Someone had had a freaking nightmare, and he’d been ready to risk life and limb by crashing through the bush, in the dark and on crutches, casting aside everything he knew as a cop, just to get there.

“Goddamn, McKittrick,” he muttered into the breeze that stirred against his skin. “You’re starting to scare me.”

Scowling anew, he turned to answer the oven buzzer’s summons.

And to repair the damned sliding door he’d pulled off its track.

“AUNT GRACE, CAN I HAVE
the keys to the van?” Josh raised his voice over Annabelle’s shrieks as Grace tried to wrestle her into a t-shirt. “I left my grey hoodie in there the last time we went shopping.”

Seated on the floor, Grace stuffed her niece’s writhing arm into its armhole for the fourth time. She pinned the limb under her own as she reached for its partner.

“They should be in my jacket pocket,” she bellowed at Josh.

Annabelle flung back her head, connecting hard with Grace’s chin. Stars burst behind Grace’s eyeballs, and she blinked back tears of pain and frustration. The toddler’s arm pulled free yet again.

How in the world could a two-year-old be this
slippery
?

“I looked,” Josh said. “They’re not there.”

Hell. Could anything else go wrong this morning? Annabelle had two new molars coming in, and between being up with her half the night and dealing with nightmares for both Lilliane and Sage, Grace figured she’d managed a scant three hours of sleep at best. She brushed a lock of hair back from her sweaty forehead and looked down in despair at her screeching captive.

“Jammy jammy jammy jammy!” yelled Annabelle.

Grace had planned to get outdoors and run the legs off the toddler so she’d nap out of sheer exhaustion, freeing Grace to focus on the other three and their school work for a couple of hours. At this rate, however, aunt would be more in need of sleep than niece.

And all this over pajamas versus real clothes?

“Fine,” she growled, trying not to care that she’d just lost to a two-year-old. She set her niece upright and handed over the fleece pajama top decorated with penguins. “You can wear the darned pajamas.”

As if someone had turned off a tap, Annabelle’s tears stopped flowing and she clasped her arms around the treasured garment. “Jammy!”

“At least they’re warm,” Josh offered. “And it’s not like anyone’s going to see her out here.”

True on both counts. But Grace’s pride still stung, and her confidence in her parenting ability had taken a blow. If she couldn’t get a toddler into a t-shirt, how in hell was she going to manage all the other challenges she faced? The teen years, school bullies, homework fights…if Julianne didn’t recover, she would face all those and more. On her own. With four kids.

She so hadn’t thought this through when Julianne had asked her to be the legal guardian. Had never anticipated that something might actually happen. And now that it had…

Tears of self-pity welled in her eyes. Josh’s hand patted her shoulder.

“You’re doing a good job, Aunt Grace,” he assured her. He nodded at his little sister, who was now tracing the outlines of the penguins on her belly, happily chatting to them. “Mom always said she had to pick her battles with this one. Why don’t you let me take her outside for a while? It will give you a break.”

Great. Now she was making such a mess of things that a ten-year-old wanted to rescue her. Grace sniffled inelegantly and shored up her backbone. How dared she feel sorry for herself when her nephew had been through so much? Josh had dealt with more than his fair share of responsibility and guilt. He needed a strong, capable adult in his life, not one who folded in the face of a toddler’s tantrum, and certainly not one who gave in to self-pity in front of him. She dredged up a smile from beneath the fatigue and worry.

“Thanks, Josh, but Annabelle and I can both use some fresh air.” She hauled herself to her feet and gazed down at the curly-headed imp. No wonder Sean had given in to the demands to bandage all the stuffies. The poor man hadn’t stood a—

She broke off the thought. Damn. That was at least the sixth time today he’d crept into her mind. She brushed off the seat of her jeans. “Right,” she said. “Pity party’s over. Annabelle, you and I are going for a walk.”

Annabelle fixed her with a suspicious scowl. “Annbell d’ess?”

“No, you don’t have to get dressed.” Grace sighed. “You can wear your pajamas.”

“Find shoes!” the toddler responded enthusiastically. She raced out of the room and down the hallway as fast as her chubby little legs would carry her, announcing to her sisters, “Annbell walk!”

“The keys?” Josh prompted.

“Right. Sorry.” Grace cast a look around the room. Dresser top and end tables all sported nothing more than the usual toddler paraphernalia: wipes, a spare pacifier, three stuffed animals complete with “casts,” and a collection of picture books. But definitely no keys.

She frowned. “You’re sure they’re not in my pocket? I know I had them when I went over to—shit.”

She scraped a hand through her hair and closed her eyes, reliving the scene in Sean’s bedroom from two nights before. The surprise attack, the jujitsu throw, Sean’s hard landing on the floor. Hell, the keys had to have dropped out there. Or else somewhere along the path.

She wasn’t sure which she’d prefer, because while crawling around the woods on her hands and knees held little appeal, another visit with Sean had
not
been part of the plan. She opened her eyes to a grinning Josh.

“You know that sounded really bad, right?” he asked.

Grace thought back over her words and rolled her eyes. Only a ten-year-old would have picked up on that. She reached out to ruffle his hair. “Funny. And I think I may have dropped my keys at Mr. McKittrick’s. Annabelle and I will walk over there and check, all right?”

Sheer, naked relief flashed behind Josh’s wire-framed glasses. She didn’t have to ask to know it was because she hadn’t asked him to go instead. Hadn’t asked him to face a big-voiced man who reminded him entirely too much of his father.

She gave her nephew’s thin shoulders a quick hug, then nudged him toward the door.

“Come on. Let’s go see how many shoes Annabelle has managed to try on by now, shall we?”

“Man owie,” Annabelle said, stepping over the threshold when Sean opened the sliding glass door. She planted an enthusiastic kiss on the plaster cast just above his knee, patted it, and grinned up at him. “Kiss better.”

Before he could stop her, she trotted across the living room and climbed up on the couch, leaving a muddy trail in her wake. Sean gazed after the blond curls in bemusement. He’d swear that kid was even cuter today than she’d been two days ago—tantrum aside. He turned back to the door at the sound of a groan.

“Oh, hell,” Grace said, her expression dismayed. She stopped just outside and viewed the damage. “I’m so sorry. I was looking for my keys along the trail, and she got away on me. I figured I’d catch up with her on the deck.”

She swept back a handful of windblown hair from cheeks made rosy by the autumn morning chill, and Sean’s breath hitched in his chest. Damned if the aunt wasn’t cuter than she’d been yesterday, too. He swallowed the thought.

Thoughts, plural, because he wasn’t supposed to be finding either aunt or kids in the least bit appealing.

He realized Grace was waiting for some kind of response, and he stepped aside to let her in. The faint scent of summer-fresh strawberries followed her. He took an extra step back.

“No problem,” he said. “Really. Some of the dirt is mine, anyway. I was out for a walk last night.”

Grace looked down at the print of a large, distinctly unshod foot. She lifted her gaze to his. “A walk,” she echoed. “On crutches and in the dark. Barefoot. This is a habit of yours, is it?”

Deciding the question was best left ignored, he cleared his throat. “I have your keys here. They must have dropped out of your pocket the other night.” He shot a look at Annabelle and dropped his voice to add, “When you tried to kill me.”

Already rosy cheeks deepened in color.

“I didn’t hurt you too much?” she asked. “I really am sorry.”

Sean shook his head. He curled fingers around his crutches, his hand itching to brush back her hair and trace the curve of a cheek. “I’m teasing. And no, no lasting injuries. The keys are on my nightstand. I’ll get them for you while you grab Annabelle.”

“Annbell s’ay,” the toddler announced from the couch.

Grace angled her head to look past him at her niece, heaving a sigh. Sean frowned at the shadows smudged beneath her eyes. The fatigue in the droop of her shoulders.

“Rough night?” he asked. “I heard screams. Twice. Nightmares?”

“The sound carries that far?” Grace winced. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. Is everyone all right this morning?”

Grace hesitated. Then she nodded, her lips pulling into a brief, tight smile. “They’re fine, thanks. Just worried about their mom.”

Of course. As she must be, as well. But she’d made it clear she didn’t want his help, and he was supposed to be working on letting go of the whole situation, remember? Sean stepped back so she could enter the cottage. On the couch, the toddler paged happily through an old issue of a wildlife magazine.

“Bear!” Annabelle exclaimed. “Rawr!”

“This is so not going to be pretty,” Grace muttered.

Sean’s lips curved upward. “Would it be easier if you stayed for coffee?”

“Not likely. She’s cutting two new molars, so she was up half the night. Tantrums are pretty much a given today.”

Sean managed to hold out for all of one-point-five seconds before Grace’s glum face and resigned air were more than he could endure.

“Are you sure I can’t help out somehow? Maybe you can leave her with me for a little while and go catch a nap or something.”

Longing flitted across her expression, but she shook her head. “Thanks, but I’ll be fine. I’m hoping the walk will tire her out so she sleeps this afternoon.”

“And you’ll nap with her?”

“I’ll see.”

“You need the sleep, Grace.”

Her lips thinned into the stubborn line he was beginning to recognize. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. You’re exhausted.” He frowned. “Why do you have to be so pigheaded about letting someone else take some of the load for a while?”