Wistfulness replaced her exuberance, making him wish he’d kept his mouth shut.
“I doubt I’ll ever have any, but in my mind, I always thought four would be fun.”
“Four?” His heart pinched at the visual that conjured. “Not many families have that many anymore. I have three brothers, and it was fun for me, but I don’t know how much fun it was for my mom. We fought constantly. Of course, we always had each other’s backs when it came to outsiders.”
“That’s what families are supposed to be like, I guess.”
True, but he’d hidden those thoughts away. “Why not teach school if you like kids that much?”
“I’ve taught at church and been a substitute teacher, but that didn’t feel like my calling. Babysitting or being a nanny for a family—I enjoyed that. I liked one-on-one, playing games, singing, reading stories, baking cookies.” Her smile conveyed such joy. “I love doing those things.”
Memories of growing up in a family just like the one Grace described flooded his mind. He missed his brothers and nieces and nephews. He’d pushed them away for too long, but he couldn’t seem to muster the strength to be around them.
“What about you?” Grace’s gaze fluctuated between sad and hopeful. “How many kids would you want? If all was right with the world, that is?”
Another sucker punch. This one swept the air from his lungs. That dream had been buried someplace deep and untouchable.
Because all wasn’t right with his world.
But being with Grace, her bright smile through tears... Funny, he’d always wanted a brood of four, too. Like how he’d grown up.
But that would never happen. He couldn’t risk it.
A suffocating silence fell between them like a heavy curtain, blocking out oxygen and light. Grace waited, never pushing. He needed to explain, but his mouth had become paralyzed. Maybe his lungs, too.
“Knock, knock.” A man with a thick mustache entered, rolling in supplies. “I’m here to cast your foot.”
THANK THE LORD. Grace let out a pent-up breath. Seth was finally getting his cast, and that awkward, crickets-chirping silence had been broken. Guilt clawed at her throat, but for the life of her, she couldn’t pin down exactly why. Other than the panic-stricken expression that had taken possession of Seth’s face when she’d asked about kids.
Did he think she was going to stop at the Justice of the Peace on the way to his house or something? Get him to be the father of her children?
Though that might be dreamy actually, if he was the man she suspected him to be, capturing him hadn’t been her intent. In fact, he was the one who’d asked her how many children she wanted. Of course, maybe he was just being sympathetic since she’d shared about Trevor’s social media post. And then she’d turned it into far more than he’d bargained for. She wasn’t in Santa Rosa scoping out a man to feel sorry for her. Nor was she here to lasso her next husband-victim. She’d only come to process her emotions. Forgive. Move on. If she made that clear to Seth, maybe he’d quit flipping out on her.
Once the cast was in place, the tech went over the instructions for bathing and all. That brought a rush of heat to Grace’s cheeks, but Seth assured them he could manage that part alone.
“Now for the crutches.” The physical therapist unwrapped the end that fit under the arms. “Have you ever used these bad boys?”
“Never. I’ve been injury-free my whole life.”
Until he met me. The negative thought burst into Grace’s mind, but she tried to squash it. She hadn’t tripped him. Surely her gracelessness wasn’t infectious.
The therapist explained the proper way to carry the weight on the hands instead of the armpits. He had Seth come to his feet to measure the height and take a few steps using the crutches.
Paperwork arrived during the process, and before long, they were on the way to the house.
Seth sat in the truck’s backseat again and closed his eyes. Whether he was sleeping or not, she didn’t know, but the ride was quiet until they reached the driveway.
Mac ran from next door, arms flapping, as they drove in.
“Oh my, he’s excited. And he’ll probably call me little lady again.” Grace spoke out loud, forgetting about Seth.
A laugh came from the rear seat. “He always calls me buddy.”
“While we were at the hospital, I sent a short text explaining that you’d fallen. Looks like he cares about his buddy.” Smiling, Grace put the truck in park and let her window down.
“Little lady, I’ve been worried sick about you and my buddy. What happened?” Mac removed his cap and peered into the truck.
Sitting up, Seth waved. “I’m good. Just have my foot in a cast for a while. Thanks.”
That news seemed to relieve the plumber. “Whew. I know a break like that hurt, but I’m glad that’s the worst of it.” He bounced up and down like a bobblehead. “We’re going to take real good care of you. Don’t you worry.”
Once Mac left, Grace watched Seth’s first attempts on the crutches, and she fought the urge to walk behind him to make sure he didn’t fall. Squashing her overprotective instincts would be a battle over the coming days if she was going to help him out. He wouldn’t want to be babied.
Seth paused and made eye contact with her, churning up warmth and unfathomable emotion, considering the short period she’d known him. “You’ve truly been a godsend, Grace. Thank you.”
Her overprotective nature might not be the only thing she had to battle. Her heart seemed to be preparing for a fight, as well.
Chapter 10
Everywhere Grace went, there was Seth. All afternoon. Even when she left him resting on the couch while she crossed to and fro to check on Brooklyn’s house, the man’s presence seemed to linger on her skin, her heart, her mind. Something between scorching flames and cool gentle waves on a summer day, which totally made no sense, but all she knew was that every moment away from him, she missed him.
Which also made no sense.
“Miss Grace? Did you settle on a plan?” Mac’s voice reminded her there were decisions to be made.
Why couldn’t Brooklyn pick out her own toilet, tile, knobs, and faucets for the guest bathroom? She’d already chosen for the kitchen, and the woman had exquisite taste, plus a decorator on speed dial. But her boss had insisted Grace could make these decisions with Seth’s help. And they could wait until he felt up to it. “No rush,” Brooklyn had stated. The words had been followed by more of those uncharacteristic giggles.
“I’ll call you as soon as I have a plan put together, Mac.”
“Yes, ma’am. These things take time.” Mac removed his hat and pushed over the thin strip of graying hair remaining on his head. “My wife wants to bring ribs and baked beans over for y’all to have for supper. You’ve had a long day.”
“How sweet, but...” Grace shook her head and waved him off. “She doesn’t have to go to any trouble. I can—”
“No trouble at all. Should be here any minute. Pretty good cook, too, in my humble opinion.” His head dipped, and he replaced the hat.
“Thank you, then. I’ll wait for her at Seth’s.” No sense having to lug it over.
Grace gathered supplies at Brooklyn’s, then crossed the yards and let herself into Seth’s back door. The rain had finally let up, and long shadows fell across the room.
Grace’s heart skipped when she spotted an empty couch. She dropped her load on a table near the door. “Where did he go?” Anxiety coursed through her, and she headed toward the bedroom. “Seth?”
“Right here.” Seth stood near the master bath door, crutches under his arms, a sleepy smile pressing in that little dimple on his chin.
“Why are you up?” Her hands popped to her hips.
“I wanted to brush my teeth.”
“I could’ve brought everything to you for that.”
“Um.” His smile turned sheepish. “Nature called.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks burned, and she crossed her arms. “You made it okay? I mea
n...” What did she mean? Her gaze returned to the downturned picture frame beside the bed. The position of the photo was substantially closer to the edge than when they’d left for the hospital. Was he thinking of his ex-wife? Wishing she were here instead?
“You need to lie down and put your foot up.” She waved him forward. “I found another icepack next door, and Mac’s wife is bringing food.”
“Yes, Nurse Nightingale.” He took slow, careful steps on the crutches through the house until he reached the couch. “I’d hoped you were going to use your Suzy-Homemaker-Pioneer-Woman skills and cook me dinner, but I guess I’ll have to wait.”
“Tomorrow is another day.” She couldn’t stop a smile. “And I brought a game of Scrabble over if you feel up to it.”
“Scrabble?” He eased himself down and lifted his cast onto the ottoman. “I was planning to skunk you in cards, since you do the lying-lip-twitch thing.”
“I do not lie. And that’s why I brought Scrabble. So I can win.” No lips twitching there. All true.
“We’ll see about that.”
The doorbell chimed, interrupting what definitely felt like flirting. Grace took a deep breath and stepped away. Thank goodness. “Must be Mrs. Strahan. I’ll get it.”
“Get ready to be called sugar at least a dozen times.”
“I am sweet.” Looking back, Grace winked, and Seth’s face brightened, but also shaded pink.
Apparently she had no impulse control around this man. How in the world would she get through the next few hours with her heart intact, much less survive the next several days?
A STRONG CURRENT SWEPT through Seth’s body like a high voltage shock. The only explanation for the crazy amps could be the tiny motion of Grace’s wink.
God, why does she affect me this way when I’m trying my best to stay in the friend zone? He groaned. Now she has to take care of me, and I can’t seem to control one blasted thing about the situation.
A verse from the daily Bible reading sprung to his mind.
Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing.
Forget? His gut tightened. He could never forget Noah.
But maybe he needed to let go. Because dwelling on the past—he was guilty. Still, this verse didn’t make sense. Was God doing a new thing? How did Grace fit in?
Voices floated through, Mac and Darlene Strahan’s, along with the aroma of pork and spicy barbeque sauce. Seth’s stomach rumbled. He’d enjoyed Darlene’s cooking in the past, and this was probably going to be pretty tasty.
“Hey, sugar. You poor, poor baby.” Mrs. Strahan came near, her brows knitted below her teased, red hair. “I started cooking as soon as I heard. Made my special Mississippi mud pie, too. So good and chocolaty, it’ll make you want to kiss your mama. People say ‘slap your mama,’ but I can’t abide that saying.” She raised her shoulders, which made her bright purple shirt dotted with colorful butterflies flutter on her small frame. The woman was maybe five feet, and not more than a hundred pounds soaking wet. “I mean, who would ever want to slap their mama?” She hovered over Seth and pinched one of his cheeks. “Not a good boy like you.”
“Aw, Darlene. That boy is a grown man who probably doesn’t want you babying him.” Mac gave his wife a tender smile. “Not too much, anyway.”
“I’ll baby him if I want to, and you know it.” Though she huffed, her red-lipstick-covered lips curled into a playful pout. She kept her attention on Seth. “We tried and tried to have our own children, but that never worked out, so it became my mission to adopt—and spoil—whoever needs me at the time. God has blessed me in bountiful and unexpected ways all these years.”
Guilt pricked Seth’s heart and burned his eyes. Instead of giving up like he had, this humble woman had used her grief to bless others. Exactly what Seth kept feeling led to do lately, but the situation seemed so confusing. Falling for Grace hadn’t been the way he’d expected God to use him. That couldn’t be what God intended.
“Oh, sugar.” Darlene’s hand cupped his cheek. “I didn’t mean to bring up... I’m sorry.”
“I’m just overwhelmed by your kindness.” Seth blinked back the moisture in his eyes and smiled. “Why don’t y’all stay and eat with us?”
“I did make plenty.” Darlene ducked her chin, looking unsure.
Grace neared, confusion scrunching her forehead. “Seth, you look like you’re in pain. I can call and ask for stronger medicine to be sent to a pharmacy.”
“I’m fine. And hungry.” He chuckled and made a fake frown. “Fix me a plate, woman. And our company, too.”
Relief swept the lines away. “That is not the way you speak to your caregiver.” A teasing smirk accompanied Grace’s eye roll.
“I was playing.”
“You better be, buddy. You’re just lucky you’re injured.” Grace’s hand popped to her forehead. “Oh, that didn’t come out right. I’m sorry you were hurt.”
He loved the way she backpedaled when she thought she’d said something wrong. “I’m just lucky you’re here.”
Once they’d all devoured the ribs and sides, then the chocolate pie of almost sinful delight, the Strahans took their leave. Seth sank against the couch and let his eyes close. The knock of cabinets opening and closing drifted from the kitchen, where Grace buzzed around cleaning. He’d love to be helping her. Or even just watching her.
Finally, footsteps came near.
“Want me to turn out these lights?” Her voice was soft.
“What?” Seth leaned forward and rubbed his palms together. “I’m dying to beat you at Scrabble. Let’s do it. Unless you’re too tired.” He lifted one brow. “Or scared.”
“Oh, you’re on.” She wagged a finger at him. “And don’t expect any mercy.”
“I wouldn’t want it any other way.” He gave an evil laugh. “Three brothers, remember? I don’t know anything about mercy.”
He studied the smiling, blue-eyed woman across the coffee table from him. He might not know much about mercy, but he couldn’t stop wanting to know more about Grace.
Chapter 11
“I don’t mind, Seth.” Grace would never forgive herself if her neglect forced Seth to require surgery. He’d fallen while trying to help her, after all. “I’ll sleep on your couch, at least tonight.”
“You don’t need to stay. Sometimes I have nightmares, and I talk in my sleep. I’d drive you crazy.” Seth shook his head and took a wobbly step or two away from the couch. “I can call you if I need anything.”
The painkiller they’d given him had him a bit loopy and unsteady. Another reason she shouldn’t leave him alone.
“You can’t call me if you’re on the floor writhing in pain.” She gave him a pleading look. “I won’t sleep a wink anyway if I’m across the way. I’ll be worried all night. Unless you have a baby monitor or something that would broadcast to Brooklyn’s house?”
Something about the way his chin dipped and the way the corners of his mouth turned down made her feel guilty. Yes, she was being pushy. But she’d feel terrible if she left him here alone.
“First you beat me in Scrabble using obscure legislative terms, now you’re treating me like a child.” One side of his mouth ticked up, and he gave her a mischievous look. “You took the no mercy thing seriously. You’d fit right in with my family.”
A bit of the guilt evaporated like morning fog under the warmth of his gaze and his teasing words. He was relenting.
Playing along, she touched her hand to her heart. “I used obscure words? What about that weird hardware term you plugged in to use your Q? I still think that was a proper name and so not eligible.” She blew out a huff. “I’m just glad you didn’t try to use fiddlesticks, your choice word from when you fell.”
“Grace, you won.” With a teasing scrunch of his nose, he poked a crutch her way and shook it. “You don’t have to keep rubbing it in and making fun of me. My dearly departed grandpa said fiddlesticks all the time.”
“Sorry.” His stance
with his waving crutch unnerved her. He could fall. “Please forgive me for picking on you. And can you keep that crutch on the ground?”
He plopped it down and hobbled closer. Too close. His amused sky-blue eyes completely discombobulated her brain and her breathing apparatus. So close, she could make out the tiniest swirls of silver in his irises like thin clouds on the edge of their stratosphere. Despite her paralyzed lungs, in his gaze, she felt—or maybe imagined—suffering and kindness...and perhaps longing...churning in the mix.
“You might be demoted from Nurse Nightingale to Nurse Ratched if you don’t watch out.”
“My pride can’t take another hit, so I better straighten up.” Getting demoted by her best friend and husband had robbed her of enough self-confidence.
“I’m kidding.” He released his crutch to squeeze her shoulder. “I appreciate your help.”
Her pulse drummed in her throat. He was close enough to kiss her again, and his calloused fingers still rested on her shoulder, each one blazing against her skin, sending bursts of energy through her, like a defibrillator bringing her heart to life.
She took a step back. “You’re welcome. I...need to go check out some toilets before bedtime.” Way to ruin a moment. “For Brooklyn’s guest bathroom, of course.”
She could’ve said tile, cabinet doors—anything but toilets. Grace summoned the composure she seemed to have left somewhere on Interstate 285 in Atlanta.
Seth’s hearty laugh relieved her tension. “You’ve come to the right place, then. Hit the motherlode here. I’ll show you where the library of catalogs are stored.”
She trailed Seth to a linen closet in the hall. Hands still on the crutches, he pointed toward the handle. “Have at it. Plumbing is on the second shelf in alphabetical order by company, but get the two with the round yellow sticker on the spine. You’ll find pages tabbed with our favorite choices and the reason why written in the margins.”
She turned the knob and opened the door. Taking in the mass of books and the insanely perfect filing system, she gasped. “Wow. Amazing job.” When she’d taken over as Brooklyn’s assistant, she’d reorganized like mad, but she might’ve met her match in Seth.
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