“See you tonight,” he said, but she was already hurrying across the diner, stopping short at one of the nearby tables where an old man sat alone, nursing a cup of coffee.
“Well, hello there, handsome! I didn’t even notice you were here!”
“Probably ’cause you were a mite busy kissin’ that fella.” The man’s steely gaze traveled to Grant.
But Ali just laughed. “Come in for the liver and onions?”
“You bet.”
She looked over her shoulder at Grant. Her eyes were sparkling and she gave him a saucy wink. “Well, you enjoy it.” She patted the man’s shoulder. “I have to get back on duty.”
“Be careful, child.”
Both Grant and the old man watched her hurry out of the restaurant. And then the iron-haired guy was looking back at Grant. “She’s a good little lady.”
That’s when Grant placed him. “Squire Clay. From Magic Jax.”
“Yep. You’re new around here.” Squire was definitely taking Grant’s measure.
He didn’t flinch. “Yes. And she doesn’t like being called ‘little lady.’”
“No, she does not,” he agreed. “She’s not quite blood, but she’s close, so I’m interested all the same.”
“So am I, Mr. Clay.”
A smile curled the old guy’s lips. Then he lifted his cup in salute. “Good luck to you, then. You’re gonna need it with that one.”
“Here you go, Squire.” Josephine unloaded her tray on the man’s table. “While I appreciate you comin’ all the way from Weaver for my liver and onions, I know Gloria wouldn’t approve.”
Squire cackled softly. “Man can’t live on the leaves and twigs she wants to feed me these days, Josie. Hell, I’m lucky if she feeds me some of my own damn beefsteak once a month!”
Not bothering to hide his amusement, Grant turned to look out the window. He could see Ali jogging across the street, eating her fries and cutting around vehicles moving slowly along the street. The few strands of hair escaping her bun bounced around the shoulders of her coat.
Someday.
History had proven to Grant that thinking of somedays—of futures—was the quickest way to disappointment. If not outright pain. In the service, he’d had to think on his feet. Yeah, there was a lot of planning. But that was always about the mission. About the job.
When it came to his personal life?
“Top off your coffee for you?”
He shook his head, also shaking off the things he didn’t want to think about. “No thanks, Josephine.” Sleeping at night was hard enough without feeding the caffeine monster all afternoon. The only night since moving into Roger Carmody’s house that he’d actually slept without a nightmare had been the one he’d spent with Ali.
He pulled out his wallet, added some cash to Ali’s and slid it inside the red vinyl folder Josephine had placed near the edge of the table.
“Need change?”
He shook his head. “All yours.”
She slid the folder into the pocket on her apron. “Take your time now. Just let me know if you need anything else.”
“Thanks.”
She picked up Ali’s plate and started to turn away, but hesitated. He automatically braced himself, assuming the worst when she gave him a close look.
“You know, you really do remind me of someone,” she said. “It’s your eyes.”
It was his own damn fault for returning to the diner.
“Sorry. Couldn’t tell you.” He poked at the liver and onions. It was good. But not as good as what Talia used to make back in the day. Before she’d ever gotten sick.
Josephine smiled and shrugged and finally moved away from his booth.
Grant set down his fork, wiped his mouth and slid out of the booth. Before Josephine came back out of the kitchen, he left.
Did she recognize him as T. C. Grant or as Ralph Carmody’s bastard grandson?
He didn’t know, and didn’t have any desire to stick around and find out.
* * *
The next night, Ali put on the cocktail-waitress uniform and the dreaded high heels and worked a shift at Magic Jax. But she didn’t mind it too much, because Grant sat at the bar nearly the whole time.
“That guy’s got it bad for you,” Charlene murmured halfway through their shift.
“No, he doesn’t.” She barely waited a beat before she stole a look at Grant, who was talking with Marty over the soda he’d been drinking all night. “Does he?” Good Lord, she was turning into a teenager.
Charlene just nodded knowingly. “Watch yourself,” she warned. “Last guy looking at me like that put babies in my belly and there went all my plans to go to college and get outta this dang town.”
Ali had done her stint in college and had no desire to go back. And Charlene was just being Charlene.
She carried the tray of empties she’d been collecting back to the bar and exchanged them for fresh drinks.
Grant caught her eye and smiled slowly.
She swallowed a sudden knot as she lifted the tray.
Babies in her belly...
She didn’t want to admit what a tempting thought that was. Not even to herself.
Maybe it was just the Layla effect.
She delivered the drinks and returned to the bar. “Don’t suppose you ever played hockey, did you?”
His eyes narrowed. “Why do I feel like I should ask for some context before I answer?”
“Because you’re a smart man.” She leaned her hip against the empty bar stool next to him and absently wriggled her toes inside her shoes. “My grandmother’s solution to her annoyance with the Valentine’s committee is to throw her own event.”
“Hockey?”
She laughed. “Ice skating, actually. She’s calling it a Valentine’s ball on ice.” She felt strangely diffident all of a sudden. “Would you, uh, like to go? You know. With me?”
His lips tilted upward. “You asking me on a date, Officer Ali?”
“I guess I am, Mr. Cooper.” She lifted her chin a little. She felt flustered and didn’t much care for it. “Well?”
“Maybe he has to check his calendar,” Marty interjected from where he stood behind the taps, pulling a beer.
The starch in Ali’s shoulders softened.
She rolled her eyes, tucked the round tray beneath her arm and straightened away from the stool.
Grant caught her hand before she could take a step, though. He ran his thumb slowly over the back of her hand and heat climbed sweetly through her veins. “I haven’t worn hockey skates in a long damn time. And I’ve never worn figure skates.”
“That makes two of us.”
“You played hockey?” His thumb paused over the pulse throbbing in her wrist.
“For a couple years.”
“Were you any good?”
“I was all of ten and I could bodycheck with the best of my teammates.”
He smiled. “Why am I not surprised?”
“Good grief.” Charlene reached between them in order to grab the basket of peanuts sitting in front of Grant. “Either get on with it, or get a room.” She stomped away on her high heels and deposited the basket on a table.
Grant’s eyes returned to Ali’s. “What’s her problem?” His thumb was still pressed against her pulse, which seemed to be speeding up with each breath she took.
“She didn’t get to go to college.”
His eyes narrowed slightly, hunting for the joke.
“So, you up for a spin around the ice rink or not?”
His eyes drifted to her lips. Then down her body, his glance as warming as a physical touch. “Definitely up.”
Ali nearly choked. She tugged her hand away from him and moistened her lips. Then she leaned over and whispered in his ear, “If you still feel that way in an hour, meet me
in the storeroom. I’ve got a fifteen-minute break and the door locks.”
His head reared back. Shock, surprise and interest were all in his piercing, aqua eyes. “Officer Ali.”
She smiled slightly and turned on her heel, sashaying away.
Chapter Twelve
“Tool man at your service.”
Ali knew she had a crazy happy smile on her face, but she didn’t care. She opened the front door wider so that Grant could enter. She hadn’t seen him since the night before at Magic Jax.
When they’d locked themselves in the storeroom for fifteen glorious minutes.
He was carrying a large red toolbox. And though it was a welcome sight, because it meant she wouldn’t have to cave in and call her dad to come to the rescue, it wasn’t what caused her to feel so giddy.
That was all on Grant.
“I ordered pizza,” she said. “It’ll be here in an hour. I hope you like pepperoni and sausage.”
He closed the door behind him and set the toolbox on the table near the door. “Only thing I don’t like are green peppers.” His gaze swept over the empty living room, ending on the clothes draped over their couch. “What’s all that?”
“My grandmother’s idea of skating attire. She’s got this whole Victorian image in her head, I guess. Wants to make sure some of us look the part.” She went over and picked up the dark blue coat first. “I can maybe see wearing this. It’s sort of cool in a vintage kind of way.” She held the wool coat to her shoulders. It had puffy sleeves and nipped in tightly at the waist, then flared out to end below the knee in a wide band of white fur. Fake, she hoped, but when it came to her grandmother, it was dangerous to assume.
She tossed it down and picked up the finely striped yellow-and-white dress that was so long she’d probably catch her skate blades in it and land on her butt. “This, though? There’s no way.” She spread out the fancily ruffled fabric. “I think it’s got a bustle!”
He was grinning as he stopped next to her. He touched the dress. “And I think you’d look real cute in this.”
“Oh, come on.” She dumped the dress in a heap. “If I’m going to wear that, then you can wear a top hat and...and spats!”
“Might get a little cold without anything covering the areas between. Wear the coat. Make your grandma happy. At least she cares. As for me, I’ll skip the spats if you don’t mind.” He gave her a long look. “We alone?”
Her stomach swooped. “Greer’s got a date. She’ll be late.”
Then he pulled Ali into his arms and kissed her.
Excitement built oh, so fast and oh, so sweetly. But she made herself press her hands against his wide shoulders, and broke the kiss. “No, you don’t.” She sounded just as breathless as she felt. “I’ve got a kitchen-faucet situation going nowhere. You can kiss me senseless after.”
“You’re the one leaving me senseless.” Amusement filled his deep voice. But he let her go and retrieved the toolbox. “All right. Lead the way, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart.
She was afraid she might actually be floating two inches above the floor as she headed into the kitchen.
The towels she’d used to mop up the flood were sitting out of sight in the washing machine. She’d also put away the mop and bucket. Aside from the damp patches still remaining on the unpainted walls, there wasn’t a lot of visible damage left. “I shut the water off at the main this morning before I went on duty. On my way home, I stopped at the hardware store. Bobby Don sold me all those parts in the bag there. Said whatever we didn’t need, I could return.”
“Good deal.” Grant set his tools on the floor and glanced in the bag before kneeling down to look under the sink. It wasn’t hard, since the cupboard below it possessed no door. “Looks like you’ve patched this pipe a time or two.” He pulled his head out to look at her. “Would’ve been easier to change out the pipes.”
“Yes, yes. You went to the same school that my father did. Point is, we’re doing it now.” She hugged her elbows. “If I let you play doctor with me later will you save the lecture that I know my father would deliver?”
He slanted a look her way and she shivered. “That’s a pretty hard bargain you drive, little lady.”
She propped her hands on her hips. “Oh. My. God. Do not start that up. Squire can get away with it because he’s sort of related and he’s older than dirt.” She jabbed her finger in the air at him. “You, however, are neither.”
He chuckled and pulled off his coat, handing it to her. Then he rolled up the long sleeves of his T-shirt and lay down on his back, working his head and upper torso as far as possible into the sink cabinet. Then he stuck his hand out blindly. “Scalpel, Nurse Ali.”
She giggled and flipped open the toolbox. “How’d you learn this home-repair stuff, anyway? It can’t possibly all come from books.” She handed him a pipe wrench and his hand disappeared beneath the cabinet. He bent one knee as he worked and she swallowed, enjoying the sight of him sprawled there. Her very own Mr. Fix-it.
“Learned a lot from Cal. My dad. And in the service I learned even more. Not just the tech stuff, but how to creatively make an unlivable place a little more livable.” He clanged a pipe and a moment later tossed a piece onto the floor by her feet. “There’s your problem,” he said. “Pipe’s rusted right through.”
She could see that. She was a long way away from being squeamish, but she picked up the gross pipe with two fingers and pitched it in the trash, then returned to crouch near his knees. “What did your dad do?”
“Retired air force.”
Ahh. She smiled, glancing at his midsection where his shirt had ridden up an intriguing inch. It was all she could do not to trail her finger along that wedge of bare skin. She already knew he had a few ticklish spots. And she knew exactly where they were. “You followed in his footsteps?”
“Something like that. I enlisted after 9/11.”
“A lot of people did.”
He tossed her two more pieces of pipe and came out from the cupboard long enough to grab some new ones from the bag. “He was an honest-to-God hero, though,” he said after he’d ducked back beneath the sink. “A PJ.”
“Pararescueman? No kidding? I have a cousin who—” She broke off at the sound of the front door opening. “Hold on. Greer’s date must have tanked.” She pushed to her feet and went to the doorway.
But it wasn’t Greer who’d come in. It was Maddie, carrying Layla on her hip.
“Hi!” Ali went over and divested her sister of the baby. “What’re you doing here? Where’s Linc?”
Maddie peeled out of her coat, then deftly worked off Layla’s. “He’s outside talking to Mrs. Gunderson. We just came from dinner with Judge Stokes.”
Ali froze. “And...?”
“And what do you think? I see you got a delivery from Vivian, too. You going to wear it?” Maddie kicked off her shoes and padded into the kitchen, only to stop short. No doubt because of the sight of half a man sticking out from the kitchen cabinet. “Um, hello?”
“Hello.”
Ali slid between Maddie and the doorjamb in time to see Grant sketch a wave with the wrench in his hand.
She sat at the table with the baby on her lap and smiled into Layla’s face. The baby was wearing a stretchy footed thing with a green monster on the belly that Ali had bought for her before Christmas. It already looked like it was getting too small. “Grant’s replacing the pipes and the faucet.”
“That’s great.” Maddie stepped around his long legs and pulled open the refrigerator. “Got anything edible in here?”
“Pizza’ll be here in less than an hour. Manetti’s. You know there’ll be plenty.” The pizzeria only made one size—gargantuan.
Her sister made a face.
“Oh, and since when do you not like pizza?”
“Well.” Maddie closed the refrigerator door and tu
rned to look at Ali. Her palm settled on her flat stomach.
And just like that, Ali knew. She knew, and delight filled her, along with a sharp little pang that she feared might be envy. “You’re pregnant!”
Maddie nodded.
“No wonder you’ve looked like a worn-out rag lately!”
Her sister sputtered a laugh. “Geez, Ali. So flattering.”
Envy be damned. She leaned over and set Layla on the floor, with Grant’s legs providing a suitable barrier between her and the toolbox, then darted to her sister, pulling her in for a boisterous hug. “Oh, my God. We’re getting a baby!”
“Well, don’t squeeze it out of her just yet.”
Ali looked over to see her brother-in-law in the kitchen doorway. She let go of Maddie to hug Linc, too. “This is such great news!”
Grant had pulled himself out from the cabinet and was giving Layla a wary look. “Congratulations.” He extended his hand.
“Thanks, man.” Linc’s eyes were watchful as the two of them shook.
Ali had to remind herself that even though it felt like Grant had been in their lives—her life—for a very long time, the reality was something quite different. She quickly introduced them. “Grant Cooper. Lincoln Swift. Maddie’s husband.”
“You’re Layla’s uncle.”
Grant’s expression looked a little tight to Ali. Maybe it was because Layla had decided to explore his legs and was rocking back and forth on her stomach as if she wanted to climb over them. Which would have been a feat, since she hadn’t even started crawling yet.
“That’s the working theory,” he said. He glanced at Ali. “You should probably pick her up, shouldn’t you?”
The worn floor had never been so clean, because of the flood from the kitchen pipes yesterday. She briefly entertained the notion of plopping the baby on his belly, just to see what he would do, but ultimately, she leaned down and plucked Layla off the ground to nuzzle her sweet-smelling neck. “Better?”
“Yep.” He stuck his head back beneath the cabinet and started clanging around the pipes again.
She was determined not to read too much into his apparent disinterest. It had taken her a while to get comfortable around a baby, too.
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