Forever Grace (21 page)

That made one of them. Grace put a hand to her chest and rubbed at the ache in the center.

“I’m glad I was wrong,” he added. “And I want to—”

“No.”

“You didn’t let me finish.”

“You were going to offer more help, but no. Thank you. You’ve done enough.”

“Actually, I wanted to suggest we go over safety precautions,” he said. “To make sure you stay as hidden as possible.”

“Luc had his private detective do that with me before we came. I’m good.” She reached past him to twist the doorknob. “It’s getting late. You must be tired.”

“Grace.” Strong fingers closed over hers, warm, gentle, paralyzing, threatening to undo her.

She closed her eyes. Shook her head. “Don’t.”

“We need to talk,” he said gruffly.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“What happened tonight—what
almost
happened…”

She tugged free of his grasp. “Was a mistake. For both of us. It won’t happen again.”

A muscle flexed in his jaw. “You have kids,” he said. “Probably permanently. I’m just not—I’ve never been—”

“Sean. Let it go.” Grace lifted her chin. “The very fact you’d rather talk about what almost happened instead of acting on it tells me everything I need to know. And honestly, I think it’s for the best. I don’t have room for complications in my life right now, anyway. So can we please just forget about it?”

Sean’s hand lifted, as if he might reach for her. She stepped back. The hand settled to his side again. It formed a fist. He sighed.

“Of course,” he said. “You’re right.”

He pulled open the door, and he and his crutches stepped out onto the porch. Arms wrapped around herself, Grace watched him cross to the steps. He looked over his shoulder.

“I won’t see you tomorrow. My cousin is coming up to visit, and I need to clean up enough that he thinks I can look after myself, otherwise he’ll pack me up and take me back to Ottawa.” He grimaced. “He and his wife think I ought to move in with them until I’ve recovered.”

An automatic offer of help leapt to her lips. She bit it back. A day’s break from Sean would give her a chance to regain her bearings. Her perspective.

Her sanity.

And if his cousin did drag him back to Ottawa? Well. That might not be such a bad thing, either.

“Of course,” she said. “Enjoy your visit.”

She closed the door.

On the road. Arriving noon. Bringing lunch and a surprise. Please still be alive.

Chuckle-snorting at the text message, Sean thumbed in a quick reassurance to his cousin, sent it, and switched off his cell phone. He pocketed the instrument, then crutched across to the kitchen, where he tugged the travel mug Grace had loaned him from his other pocket. He filled it with the last of the coffee, screwed on the top, and turned off the coffee machine. Then he glanced at the digital clock on the stove. Five past eleven. That gave him almost an hour to kill…by doing what?

With a sigh, he pocketed the sealed, coffee-filled mug and turned back toward the living room. The last three mornings, he’d been on the path to Grace’s cottage by this time, greeted by Annabelle’s squeals of delight and the administration of kisses-better to his cast. Yesterday after dinner, Lilliane had told him she didn’t mind that he was a police officer, because he was still nice, and quiet little Sage had presented him with a drawing of a man on crutches, wearing an apron and stirring a pot of what she’d told him was mac and cheese—her favorite.

Damned if he hadn’t had to swallow a lump over the latter.

He pulled the mug from his pocket and set it on the coffee table, then dropped onto the couch with a sigh. It was good that Gareth was coming today. His leg could probably use the break from rough paths and standing around Grace’s kitchen. And God knew he and Grace could do with a bit of distance between them after last night’s episode. Damn, but he’d come close to kissing her. Too close. Again.

He shook his head at himself. Those lapses were
so
out of character for him. He wished he could blame it on her situation—the whole damsel in distress thing—but he couldn’t even do that. First of all, he’d never had the slightest inclination to rescue someone before—not outside his job, anyway—and second, as overwhelmed as Grace might be, she was far too strong to want or accept rescuing.

So what in the hell had gotten into him?

He looked again at the clock on the stove, watching its glow change from eleven-oh-seven to oh-eight. He tried—and failed—to remember what he used to do with his mornings when he’d come out here before. Before he’d discovered the potency of strawberry-scented shampoo and dark-chocolate eyes, and the magic of belly laughs and reading stories and coloring pictures.

Would Annabelle miss him today? Would the others?

Would Grace?

Eleven-oh-nine.

Hell.

“Man owie?”

Grace looked down at the toddler tugging on her pant leg. Annabelle’s hopeful gaze met hers and then traveled back to the door. It was the fourth time they’d been through this routine since breakfast. There hadn’t been any accompanying meltdowns so far, but Grace found herself bracing, just in case. She should find something to distract the child, but the headache that had been sitting behind her eyes all morning didn’t leave much room for creative thought. Or coherence, for that matter.

Especially after that repeat dream performance after Sean left last night.

Because it wasn’t just a headache that she fought. Her entire body ached with dissatisfaction. Restlessness. Plain old
take-me-now
need such as she hadn’t felt in—well, forever, if she was honest. Not like this. Not like Sean brought out in her.

The same Sean who’d made it abundantly clear he wasn’t interested in—

Annabelle tugged on her pant leg again. “Man owie?” she repeated.

Grace sighed and crouched beside her. “Not today, sweetie. Sean is busy. He has visitors.”

The toddler digested the words, then changed tack. “Go see man?”

Damn. So far Annabelle had been satisfied with the busy explanation. This new suggestion did not bode well for the day’s peace. Or Grace’s headache.

“Not today, love. Let’s find something else to do, shall we?”

Annabelle’s bottom lip began an ominous quiver.

Grace swallowed a groan. She sought frantically for a way to head off the looming tantrum. Preferably something that would allow her to stretch out on the couch for a few minutes, and maybe give the acetaminophen she’d taken time to kick in. Then Annabelle’s face cleared.

“Lake?” she suggested. She trotted around the counter to point out the sliding glass doors to where her sisters and brother sat at the picnic table, and beyond them, the glistening water. “Annbell s’im lake.”

Grace chuckled. “I wish we could, darling, but it’s too cold for swimming. Annabelle would turn into a popsicle.”

And there, like magic, was the distraction she’d needed.

“Poppicle!” The little girl danced on the spot, then turned to bang on the glass to get her siblings’ attention. “Poppicle poppicle poppicle! Jossa! Sage! Lill’ane! Poppicle!”

Well. The level of excitement didn’t do much for a headache, but it beat the alternative. With a grin, Grace waved the three others into the cottage and then turned to the fridge. Five minutes later, leaving Josh in charge of the table proceedings and subsequent cleanup, she retreated down the hall to lie down and deal with her now-throbbing head. Annabelle’s voice floated after her.

“Jossa, Annbell s’im,” she told her brother. “S’im lake.”

Grace sighed and closed the bedroom door. That battle could wait until after the explosions stopped going off inside her skull.

Sean teetered on his crutches as a small missile surged through the door he’d just opened and wrapped arms around his waist. A second one followed in its wake, and Sean grabbed for the doorframe.

“Uncle Sean, Uncle Sean!” two voices cried in unison.

A strong hand clamped down on Sean’s shoulder, steadying him.

“Told you I had a surprise for you.” Gareth grinned. “They’ve been asking about you every day. I figured you’d be tired of the peace and quiet and ready for a little noise.”

Sean snorted but didn’t bother enlightening his cousin as to how wildly off base he was with that assumption. Instead, he leaned a crutch against the wall to free up a hand so he could ruffle the blond heads belonging to Maggie and Nicholas, the youngest of Gareth’s step-kids.

“I’m always up for a little noise where these two are concerned,” he replied. He reached out to pull their older sister into the hug. “And for a visit from my Katie-girl, of course.”

Katie smiled up at him over her siblings’ heads. “Hi, Uncle Sean. Are you feeling better?”

Before Sean could answer, Nicholas tugged aside the open pant leg covering his cast. “Oh, cool! You have a Spiderman on your cast! Hey, where’s your bullet hole? Does it still bleed?”

“All right, Nicky, that’s enough for now,” a woman’s voice said. “Remember what we talked about. Give Uncle Sean some room, please, and no pushing.”

“But, Mommy, he has a
Spiderman.
”

Gareth’s hand settled on Nicholas’s head, tipping it back. “Your mother asked you to do something, Nicholas.”

“But—” The little boy broke off and heaved a sigh. “Fine. But can I see the Spiderman later?”

“Of course,” Sean agreed. “As soon as I’m sitting down, all right? And maybe you can draw another one for me.”

Nicholas’s eyes went wide. “Really?
Cool
. Can I see the bullet hole, too?”

Sean swallowed a snort of laughter. “Sorry, no hole. The cast covers it up.”

“Oh,
man
.” And with that final complaint, Nicholas divested himself of coat and shoes, dropped the items on the floor, and darted into the cottage.

Maggie tugged at Sean’s arm. “Can I draw, too? I can make a T-Rex. A purple one.”

“I would love a purple T-Rex.”

More shoes and another coat landed on the floor, and Maggie followed in her twin brother’s wake.

“Katie—” Gareth began.

“I know.” Katie handed her coat to Sean and slipped out of her shoes. “I’ll make sure they don’t touch anything.”

With the three smallest bodies removed from the entry, Sean turned his attention to the adults who had accompanied them. “Well,” he said. “Hello. Good to see you.”

Gwynneth, mother to the kids and new wife to his cousin, stepped into the cottage and gave him a one-armed hug, her other arm wrapped around a grocery bag.

“One day,” she said, “I swear we’ll arrive at your place without the whole stampede thing.”

Sean grinned. “I’ll believe
that
when I see it.” He returned her hug and then let her relieve him of Katie’s coat. “So how was the honeymoon? Worth the wait?”

“Most definitely.” Gareth’s voice was a low growl of pure male satisfaction that made Sean laugh and Gwyn blush. “Though I’m sure it would have been just as good
without
the delay caused by my cousin getting himself shot.”

“I’m sure most things would have been just as good if I hadn’t got myself shot,” Sean said dryly. “Maybe even better.”

Unless, of course, he thought about Grace and the kids, and how he never would have met them if he hadn’t been sidelined by an injury and come out here to—

He realized Gwyn had disappeared into the kitchen and Gareth was frowning at him. Waiting…as if for a response.

“Sorry, I missed that.”

“I asked how the leg is doing. You seem a little loopy still. Not off the painkillers yet?”

Sean took the crutch he’d leaned against the wall. He still felt a little loopy, to be honest, but it wasn’t because of pain meds. Nor was it something he cared to discuss with his cousin. “Not entirely, but I’m down to just one at the end of the day. I can make do with over-the-counter stuff the rest of the time, so it’s definite progress.”

Gareth hung his coat on a hook, then reached down to retrieve Maggie and Nicholas’s garments. “And you’re managing okay on your own? Getting lots of rest like you’re supposed to?”

Something else Sean didn’t care to discuss.

“I’m good,” he said. “Really.”

Gareth’s gaze met his. It narrowed. An eyebrow lifted.

Sean rolled his eyes. “You’re worse than a mother hen. Look at me. I’m fine. The place is clean, I’m fed, I’m off most of the meds…what more do you want?”

“I want to know what you’re trying so hard not to tell me.”

Damn. He’d forgotten just how good Gareth had become at seeing through any attempt at hiding something. Fatherhood had definitely changed the man. And not altogether for the better, Sean thought sourly. Not when he himself was on the receiving end, anyway. He opened his mouth to deny Gareth’s words, but Nicholas’s voice, high-pitched with excitement, interrupted.

“Mommy, come quick! There’s a
baby
at the door!”

“Aunt Grace, wake up! Wake up, Aunt Grace!”

Grace struggled upward through sleep, the remaining vestiges of her headache tugging at her skull, threatening to return if she moved too quickly. It had been worse than she’d thought, bordering dangerously on the edge of becoming a full-blown migraine. Even now she hesitated to open her eyes, afraid the daylight would—

“Aunt Grace!” Small hands shook her and pulled at the covers. “Wake up! Annabelle’s gone!”

Grace’s eyes shot open. She stared at Lilliane’s panicked face as the little girl’s words sank in, twisted through her, took root in her heart. She bolted upright, then gripped the mattress as the world swam out of focus and tipped before righting itself. Then she transferred her hold to her niece’s arms.

“What do you mean, gone? Gone where?”

Tears spilled from Lilly’s eyes. “We don’t know. We can’t find her. And the back door was open!”

Grace was down the hall and in the mudroom before she even registered movement. Joshua met her at the door, panting and fighting back tears.

“I don’t know what happened, Aunt Grace! We were watching a movie, and then suddenly I realized she was gone. I’ve called and called, but she won’t answer me. I’m so sorry!”