Forever Grace (17 page)

“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.

“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?”

“Of course.” She climbed the stairs to his side. “And yes, chicken curry sounds great, but I can’t let you provide groceries as well as lessons.”

“I was actually hoping you could pay me back. With a favor.”

Still not recovered from last night’s all-too-vivid dream, Grace’s hormones chose a wholly inappropriate interpretation of
favor.
Her heart skewed sideways. “F-favor?”

Sean lifted a lazy eyebrow. “Of the running an errand kind. Picking up some groceries for me the next time you go to Perth, so I don’t have to drive in myself.”

Her face flamed. His eyebrow rose higher.

“Are you sure everything is okay? You seem…jittery.”

“I’m fine. Everything is fine.”

“Is it your sister?” he asked.

“What?”

“Your sister. She hasn’t taken a turn for the worse, has she?”

“No. No, she’s still the same, as far as I know.”

Now Sean frowned. “You don’t stay in touch with the hospital?”

Holding still, Grace closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She pulled her chaotic thoughts and traitorous hormones together. Pasted a smile on her lips that she hoped would pass for bright and not terrifying. Opened her eyes again.

“Sorry,” she said. “It’s been a long day already, and I’m a little out of it. Yes, of course I stay in touch about my sister, and no, there’s been no change. And I’d be happy to get groceries for you. I was actually going to make a run into town tomorrow. If you’re serious about these cooking lessons, I’m going to need something more to cook with than what’s currently in my fridge.”

Sean regarded her, his green eyes narrowed. Then he nodded. “Good plan. I’ll help you make a list.”

Sean dipped a spoon into the simmering curry, blew on it for a moment, then tasted. He let the spicy sauce roll over his tongue. It was milder than he would have made for himself, but most likely perfect for the kids. He swallowed and aimed a sidelong glance at Grace, grinning at her anxiety.

“Perfect,” he declared. “We’ll make a cook out of you yet.”

A delighted smile spread across her face. “It’s really okay?”

“It’s delicious. It’ll knock the kids’ socks off.” Sean set aside the spoon. “You just need to remember to start the rice about half an hour before you want to eat, and then you’ll be set. There should be enough left over for lunch tomorrow, too.”

“You’re not staying for dinner?”

Was that disappointment underlying her surprise? He shook off the thought and steeled himself to stay strong. After that supremely awkward parting on her porch last night, he’d given the whole Grace-and-her-family thing a great deal of thought—and he’d concluded that he needed some time and space to regroup and get his bearings. Even if he hadn’t been determined to stick with the whole idea of not ever settling down or having kids—which he was, he assured himself—there was too much else going on.

Too many questions, and too much growing certainty that his suspicions about her were right. In which case, he didn’t dare get involved. Not if it meant compromising himself as a cop.

“Thank you for the invitation,” he replied, “but as long as you can handle things from here, I think I’ll opt for an early night. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

Instant remorse and worry shadowed Grace’s eyes. “You’ve been overdoing it, haven’t you? I knew it was too much for you, back and forth along the path all those times. I shouldn’t have let you—”

“Stop,” Sean interrupted. Playing the sympathy card had seemed a legitimate way to excuse himself, but Grace’s guilt slid under his ribs like the blade of a knife. She had more than enough on her plate without him adding to her stress levels, and he didn’t need any more reason to feel sorry for her.

His judgment was already clouded enough.

“It has nothing to do with you…” he started to add, but then he let his voice trail off. It actually had everything to do with her, just not in the way she thought. Or in a way he needed to think. Damn.

He flexed his jaw and sought neutral ground.

“It’s the cast,” he said. “It gets in the way when I’m trying to sleep.”

Grace wrinkled her nose. Sean buried an impulse to lean over and kiss it. Tightening his grip on his crutches, he held back a curse.

“I can imagine,” she said. “I broke my arm when I was a kid, and the cast nearly drove me nuts. How much longer are you in it?”

“I go back for an MRI next week. They don’t normally cast a broken femur, but even with all the metal they stuck in me, mine wasn’t healing as well as it should. They’re hoping the cast immobilizes it a bit more.”

Guilt returned to her expression, underlined by horror. “Good God, Sean, you’ve been standing in my kitchen for two days straight, you’ve fallen twice, and you’ve made multiple trips through the woods over uneven ground—and
now
you tell me you haven’t been healing properly?”

She marched around the counter peninsula, pulled a chair out from the table, and pointed. “Sit.”

Josh, Sage, and Lilliane—all working on homework assignments at the table—traded looks, their eyes round. Sean gave them a reassuring smile, then flapped a dismissive hand in Grace’s direction.

“It’s all good,” he said. “I can barely wiggle my toes in this thing, so I can assure you I’m quite immobile.
And
I’m off the painkillers as of this morning, which proves things are healing.”

“You fell,” she repeated, placing hands on hips. “Twice. I don’t think they designed either your cast or your hardware to withstand that.”

He had to concede that point.

Josh cleared his throat. “When did you fall the second time, Mr. McKittrick? When you were going back to your cottage?”

Sean raised an eyebrow at Grace. “You didn’t tell them?”

Her cheeks flushed pink. “I didn’t see the point.”

“The point is to let them know self-defense works.” Especially Josh, whose intelligence and awkwardness would make him an obvious target for bullies—if it hadn’t already.

Sean met the boy’s wide, wire-framed gaze. “I thought your aunt was an intruder when she came over to check on me the other night. When I grabbed hold of her, she threw me to the floor.”

All three sets of kids’ eyes grew rounder.

“But you’re bigger than she is,” Lilliane said.

“And you’re a police officer,” Josh added.

“Are you going to arrest her?” Sage asked.

Sean pressed his lips together against a smile. Then he shook his head. “No, Sage, I’m not going to arrest her. And being a police officer doesn’t automatically protect me, Josh. Your aunt is well trained in martial arts. Even if I’d expected a fight from her and I didn’t have a cast, I suspect she would have still taken me down.”

The boy’s gaze flicked back to his aunt. “Did she hurt you?”

“Not counting my pride? Only a little. And I’m fine now.” Sean directed the last bit at Grace, who still scowled at him. “Seriously. Things feel better than they have since I was—since it happened. Barring any more gymnastics on my part, I’m sure it will stay that way.”

“Maybe. But even so, you and I both know you’re doing too much. I refuse to be party to that.”

He raised a lazy eyebrow. “So you don’t want me to come over anymore?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“So you
do
want me to come over.”

Fire, McKittrick. You’re playing with fire.

Grace crossed her arms. “Would you please stop twisting my words? I’m just concerned about your leg, that’s all.”

Given the bright flags of color that so attractively stained her cheeks, Sean suspected that
wasn’t
all, but he abandoned his teasing anyway, reminding himself he was supposed to be keeping his distance.

He waved a hand in apology, his voice gruffer than he intended. “Sorry. My sense of humor gets a little carried away sometimes. So…I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I’m getting groceries, remember?”

“Right. I forgot.” A thought struck him. “Why don’t I sit with the kids for you? Give you a chance to have some time to yourself?”

Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea!
his voice of self-preservation screamed at him. He brushed it off. It was just a neighborly thing to do. Hell, Grace wouldn’t even be present, so how could it be interpreted as anything but the most casual of gestures?

Grace directed a pointed look at his leg. “Leave you with four kids to look after? I doubt that’s what your doctor had in mind for immobilization.”

“I’d have Josh and the girls to help me with Annabelle, and I’m sure—”

Sage slipped out of her chair and buried her face against Grace’s waist.

“I don’t want to stay with him,” she whispered. “I’m scared.”

Scared
? The questions with which Sean wrestled reared up again. He struggled not to let them show in his face. Patience, he reminded himself. He still didn’t have a usable cell phone. If he went all cop on Grace, she and the kids were likely to disappear beyond his reach. Beyond his help.