She bristled. “I’m not that bad at it.”
“I’ve eaten your fried potatoes and sausage, remember?” Sean’s level gaze met hers, equal parts humor and pity dancing in his eyes. “And Lilliane offered to dump the mac and cheese in the woods so I wouldn’t have to eat it. That’s what led to the whole bear discussion.”
Grace sighed. “Fine,” she said. “I admit it. I can’t follow a recipe to save my own life. Take-out was invented for people like me.”
“Do you have any more?”
“Casserole?”
“Ingredients. Macaroni, cheddar cheese?” Sean reached for his crutches and pulled up onto them.
Grace’s jaw dropped. “You want to cook? On crutches?”
“I can cook perfectly well on crutches,” he informed her. “But no. I’m not cooking, you are. Under supervision.”
“But—”
“No buts. If you don’t like the idea of a cooking lesson, think of it as a rescue mission on behalf of your kids.” Sean swung around the peninsula to join her in the kitchen’s suddenly tight space, and Grace sidled out of the way as he opened the refrigerator door. “Good. You have cream cheese, too. We’ll do the shortcut version today, and I’ll teach you the white sauce way another time.”
Another time?
Before she could wrap her head around the words, or their implications, the stove timer sounded for the tea she’d made. Sean reached past her to switch it off, his chest brushing against her arm. His hard, muscled chest, if memory served from seeing it the other night.
Which it totally didn’t.
Couldn’t.
Wasn’t allowed to, damn it.
Sean stepped back and motioned for her to take his place at the open fridge. “You’ll need both the cream cheese and the cheddar. Oh, and get the broccoli, too. We’ll add some of that.”
She wrinkled her nose. “To mac and cheese?”
Sean’s hard, heated pecs leaned in again. He waggled his eyebrows. “Trust me.”
The warmth in Grace’s belly climbed up to scorch her cheeks. She covered her discomfiture by taking out the ingredients he’d requested and setting them on the counter by the stove. Sean retreated a couple of steps to lean against the peninsula, and from there, he started issuing orders.
“First, a pot of water. Bigger than that. You need lots of water for cooking pasta or else it clumps together.”
“Do you have some kind of broth? Bouillon cubes are fine. You’ll need to dissolve one in boiling water.”
“Grate your cheddar while you’re waiting for the water to boil.”
“Add your macaroni to the water and turn the heat down so it doesn’t boil over. Now set your timer so you don’t overcook it.”
The instructions came at a steady pace, interspersed with gentle reminders to stir this, wash that, add something else. Twenty minutes later, Grace stared down in astonishment at the steaming pot of completed macaroni and cheese before her, chunks of vibrant green broccoli sprinkled throughout.
“That’s it?” she asked, shooting Sean a suspicious look. “That’s all I have to do?”
“It’s the…quick and easy method,” he responded diplomatically, but the light dancing in his eyes assured her he’d meant idiot proof. Mindful of the young faces that had gathered on the other side of the peninsula to watch the proceedings, she refrained from sticking out her tongue.
“Cooking doesn’t need to be complicated to be good,” Sean added. He glanced over his shoulder at their onlookers. “Lilly and Sage, why don’t you two clear the table for dinner? Josh, can you put Annabelle in her high chair and get out some bowls?”
A bemused Grace watched her nieces and nephew spring into action, unsure what she found most surprising: Sean’s ease at issuing requests, her own comfort with letting him do so, or the kids’ unquestioning acceptance of his authority, with not a single one of them looking her way for confirmation.
“Are you staying for dinner, Mr. McKittrick?” Josh asked, coming between them on his way to get the bowls.
Sean raised a lazy eyebrow in Grace’s direction. “I don’t know. Am I invited?”
She hesitated. Damn. Every time she resigned herself to what she felt certain was a final goodbye with this man, they somehow ended up seeing one another again. That in itself was bad enough. But dinner? She glanced at her nephew’s expectant face and groaned inwardly. Well, it would be rather rude to say no after he’d supervised the making of the meal…
Her gaze moved to Lilly and Sage waiting by the table for her answer. Even Annabelle sat quietly, as if sensing some impending decision. Grace held back a sigh.
“Of course you’re invited,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t reflect her reluctance as much as she suspected it did. She forced a lighter note. “You still have to tell me how to do the bear-proofing, remember?”
A shadow flickered in Sean’s green gaze. Disappointment? Of course. After a couple of days of peace and quiet, relatively speaking, he would have had a chance to rethink his impulsive offer of help with her brood, as he called them. He hadn’t really wanted to stay for dinner, and he’d hoped she’d give him an easy out. Grace wondered what it said about her that she found a perverse satisfaction in his discomfort. Then she reminded herself yet again how it didn’t matter whether he wanted to be with the kids or not, because he didn’t matter.
Despite what her dratted hormones tried to tell her.
Holding out her hand, she signaled for the bowls Josh had taken down. He handed them over, and then, without being asked, counted out forks for everyone and passed them to Sage to put on the table. Water glasses followed, with Lilliane distributing those. Grace’s heart warmed as she left them to it and began piling mac and cheese into bowls.
Only a month, and already their thrown-together family had little routines in place. To her, it seemed a mark of security in the kids’ lives. Small progress, but good to see nonetheless. Sean’s hand relieved her of the bowl she held, interrupting her reverie and giving her a start.
“Everything okay?”
“It’s fine, thanks. Just daydreaming. You can give that to Josh for Sage.”
Sean quirked a skeptical brow at the heaping bowl. “A five-year-old can eat that much?”
Grace’s face flamed with heat for a third time—or was it the fourth?—and she pressed her lips together. “Of course not,” she mumbled. “I wasn’t paying attention. Josh, you can give that one to Mr. McKittrick, please. He can have my place at the table.”
“I don’t want—” Sean began.
“I can’t offer you the bench for your leg,” she said. “But at least the chair has arms, so it will be easier for you to get up.”
And so, despite her very best intentions, Sean McKittrick joined her family yet again.
CHAPTER 22
………………
SEAN LISTENED TO THE MURMUR of voices floating down the hall from the bedrooms. Lilliane, calling to Sage to bring her a towel. Josh, chanting “Annabelly with the big round belly” to the delighted giggles of his baby sister. Grace’s warm, melodic tones urging everyone along toward their bedtime.
He stared down at his hands, buried up to their wrists in hot, sudsy water. It was all so…
Domestic.
Sean waited for the shudder that inevitably accompanied the thought. It didn’t come. In fact, about all he felt right now was a warm, comfortable glow in the pit of his belly. Well, that and a buzz of anticipation, knowing that Grace would return to join him. With the kids tucked into bed, it would be just the two of them. They could make tea—or maybe she’d have a bottle of wine kicking around somewhere, and they could sit and…
Sean yarded his libido back to reality. As attractive as his neighbor was, and as much as he might want to see whether his instincts were right where the kids were concerned, maybe staying wasn’t such a good idea after all. Or necessary.
Once his cell phone was functioning again, he’d have the answers he needed in ten minutes or less. He
didn’t need to be involved with Grace on any level. He was out here to rest and recuperate, not to…well.
Certainly not to do whatever his traitorous body kept suggesting he do. Not with someone like Grace, who screamed commitment and domesticity and all the things he’d made it a mission to avoid in his life.
A door closed at the end of the hall. Anticipation kicked in Sean’s gut. Mouth tight, he washed the last bowl, rinsed it, and placed it in the rack. He needed to get out of here before he did something stupid. Needed to go home, back to his own cottage, and—
And then he remembered how, in a moment of weakness, he’d promised Lilly he’d give their aunt another cooking lesson tomorrow. Hell. He’d really screwed that up, hadn’t he? How would he extricate himself from that brilliant idea?
Really, McKittrick? You’re not some horny teenager anymore. You can’t trust yourself to keep it light and friendly? Just neighbors?
Another door closed, and Grace’s footsteps came down the hallway toward him. This was it. Just her and him. Parts of his anatomy tightened, and Sean scowled in disgust at the involuntary response.
He might not be a horny teenager anymore, but apparently he made one hell of a horny thirty-seven-year-old. He slapped the dishcloth into the sink, spraying water down his shirtfront, and finished washing the macaroni pot as Grace entered the living room. Her gaze met his, and her step faltered. Stopped. Slow seconds dragged by as neither of them spoke. About the same time as Sean decided it was a damned good thing he was on crutches and unable to cross the room to her as quickly as he’d like, she cleared her throat.
“Shouldn’t you be sitting down?”
Mundane. Mundane was good.
Sean pulled the plug from the sink and reached for a tea towel. “I’m good, thanks. I wanted to hang around to say goodbye, so I thought I’d make myself useful.”
“Oh…you’re going already?”
Anatomical things stirred again. His fingers tightened on the towel he held.
Bloody hell, Grace.
She nodded in answer to her own question, turning brisk. “Of course. You must be tired. I’ll get my coat and a flashlight and walk you back.”
“I brought a headlamp.”
“Ah. Smart thinking.” She scuffed a toe against the floorboards and crossed her arms over herself. “Well, then…thank you again for rescuing the kids from another disastrous meal. And for the bear advice. I’ll take down the bird feeders in the morning and put the garbage cans back in the shed.”
Sean draped the tea towel over the edge of the sink to dry. He reached for his crutches and tucked them back under his arms. “What time would you like me back here?”
“Back…?”
“For tomorrow’s cooking lesson?”
“Oh.” Grace wrinkled her nose. “You really don’t have to do that. Despite what the kids might think, we’ll manage.”
His jaw clenched. Unclenched. Clenched again. She was giving him an out. This could end here. It needed to end here. But already his head was shaking, his lips stretching into a smile of betrayal.
“I don’t mind,” he heard himself say. “A few more lessons, and you’ll be well on your way to chef-hood.”
A few more lessons? Oh, this just got better and better. It was one thing to want to build trust, but quite another to let things become too personal. And working this close to Grace definitely strayed into personal. Sean gripped the handholds on the crutches and formulated a polite correction—actually, just one more lesson will do—but Grace’s smile wiped it from his mind before he could speak it.
“If you’re sure it’s not too much trouble,” she said. “I suspect we’d all appreciate it. And I have to admit I’ll appreciate the grownup company, too.”
Sean swallowed. So much for backing out of his offer. At least it would give the cop in him a chance to dig deeper into the family’s mystery…assuming his inner teenager could be convinced to stay on track.
“It’s no trouble,” he assured her. “I’m happy to help.”
“Annabelle naps between two and four, if you’d like to come over then. We’ll get more done without her underfoot.”
He nodded. “Sounds good. But I really should go now.”
Before I get myself into any more trouble.
“Of course. I’ll get your things.”
Grace returned from the entrance with his one shoe and his jacket. She stood with the latter hugged against her as he sat to put on his running shoe and tie it, then handed the garment to him when he straightened in the chair. Acutely aware of her warmth imprinted on the fabric, he slid his arms into it, then stood again to rest on his crutches. The silence between them teetered on the verge of uncomfortable. Sean cleared his throat.
“Thank you again for dinner.”
Her cheeks dimpled. “Thank you again for teaching me how to make it.”
More silence. Damn, he hadn’t been this tongue-tied since grade school. He scowled. Grace’s hand came down on his forearm.
“I knew you’d overdone it,” she said. “You’re in pain, aren’t you?”
He stared down at her fingers, slender and pale against the deep khaki of his jacket. Felt their combined strength and fragility, their gentleness. The faint scent of strawberries slipped across his senses and wove through his veins. Sean tightened his grip on the crutches.
“I’m good,” he replied. He cleared the hoarseness from his throat. “But I should get going. Leave you to your peace and quiet.”
Grace hesitated as if she might say something, but then she nodded and dropped her hand. She led the way to the door and opened it, stepping out onto the porch with him into the pool of light cast by the light over their heads. Sean tugged the headlamp from his jacket pocket. He slipped it on, then looked up to find Grace holding a hand over her mouth. A grin peeked out from behind her fingers. He grimaced.
“That bad?”
Amusement danced in chocolate-brown eyes. “Let’s just call it functional rather than fashionable.”
“I see. Well. Good thing the bears won’t care, right?”
Her gaze flicked to the dark beyond the porch. “Are you sure you’re okay walking back on your own?”
As much as he’d rather stay? Sean nodded. “I’m sure. I make enough noise crashing through the trees on these things, I guarantee I’ll scare off any wildlife.”
Silence fell, then, and in the space of a heartbeat, turned awkward. Expectant. Grace’s gaze turned back to him, lifted to his. Softened. Sean sucked in a ragged breath and stepped back. His crutch-tip landed on a fallen leaf and skidded out from under him, and Grace leaped forward to grab hold of his jacket.
“Are you all right?” she asked, propping him up while he regained his balance.
Her warmth wrapped around his chest, squeezing the air from his lungs. Sean closed his eyes. Could the damned universe make this any more difficult?
“I’m fine,” he muttered. “Just tired. It was a longer day than I’m used to.”
Instant contrition flashed across her face. Great. Now he felt like a heel. He put a hand out to hers, intending to apologize. Skin brushed skin, and Grace inhaled as sharply as he had a moment before. Sean pulled back. To hell with apologizing. If he stayed here another minute, he was going to do something they would both almost certainly regret. Without a word, he swung away and headed for the stairs down to the path, pausing long enough to switch on the headlamp before he pointed himself toward the trees and home.
CHAPTER 23
………………
“Mr. McKittrick is here!” Lilliane’s voice sang out from the cottage.
Grace poked her head out of the shed and looked across the clearing to where Sean stood on the porch. She gave a wave, held up one finger, then returned to trying to squeeze the garbage can into the already overstuffed space…and to trying to slow the sudden increase in her heartbeat. She’d dreamed about Sean again last night. About hard muscles and smooth skin, hot and silken to the touch. About his hands, strong
and capable and—
Her cheeks heated, but not from exertion.
“Damn it to hell, Grace,” she muttered under her breath. She gave the garbage can a final shove, wedging it in beside a lawn mower. She’d wrestled with unwanted flutters and tremors all morning, every time she thought about the pending cooking lesson. To her increasing dismay, no amount of severe discussion with herself had any impact on hormones that seemed to have taken on a life of their own.
She slammed the shed door and looped the padlock through the hasp, then snapped it closed. Sneaking a peek over her shoulder, she found Sean still on the porch. He was waiting for her. Wonderful. Now she wouldn’t even have the walk of a short distance to pull herself together. She curled her fingers into her palms, took a deep breath, and pasted a smile on her face as she started across the grass toward him.
A headache. Maybe she could plead a—
No, if she did that, he’d just want to stay and do the cooking for her. Same if she said she was too tired. Flu? If she said she was coming down with something, surely he’d keep his distance so he wouldn’t catch it, too. She tripped over an exposed root. Damn. She was stressing way too much over this entire thing. Sean’s flight from her porch last night had made it abundantly clear he wasn’t interested in anything more than friendship, and neither should she be.
She firmed up her spine. And she wasn’t, because she had four kids to look after, her sister was in a coma, and she was hiding out from Barry…and in what universe did that leave room for a man in her life? In any capacity?
But still her steps slowed as she drew closer to the cottage. She wiped damp palms against her jean-clad thighs and forced herself to keep going.
“Chicken,” Sean announced.
She stumbled, and her smile faltered. Crap. Was she that obvious?
He held up a grocery bag. “I checked out your spices yesterday, and you have curry powder, so I brought over some of the chicken I roasted a couple of days ago. And some rice. Chicken curry sound good?”
Oh. That kind of chicken.
Sean tipped his head, narrowing his eyes. “Everything okay?”
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