Authors: Mackenzie Crowne
She smirked, refusing to be charmed. “I wouldn’t use my fist, and the fantasy places the landing about two feet
below
your nose.”
He barked a laugh, half chuckle, half wince. “Ouch.” Shuddering in a typical male reaction to a threat aimed at that most vulnerable area, he tucked the briefcase under his armpit and held up his right hand as though swearing an oath. “I promise never to insult you again.” He stuck out his hand. “Truce?”
Considering the insults he’d tossed out with all but one of their conversations, she doubted he’d be able to keep his promise. She didn’t return his crooked smile, reluctantly placing her hand in his for a quick pump before stepping back and swinging the door wider in silent invitation. He hesitated briefly before stepping over the threshold into the foyer. She shut the door against the winter chill, watching silently as his smile faded behind a steady inspection of his surroundings.
What did he see? A warm and welcoming home as she did? He glanced down the hall, eyeing the exquisite grandfather clock at one end. Sarah once explained the antique had belonged to Pete’s grandmother. Did Jake know that? Did he feel a connection to his long ago ancestor and mourn the fact the piece would pass on to his half sisters instead of him? Did he feel cheated out of his rightful place in Pete’s life, or did the bitterness over whatever transpired between them prevent any sense of familial connection?
When he finally spoke, he proved her silent questions far off the mark. “Where are they? I expected the ru…uh, the twins to greet me.”
She smirked at the slip. “The rugrats are in bed.”
Humor twinkled in his eyes even as confusion puckered his brow. “Bed? It’s not even eight.”
Clearly, he had no clue when it came to kids. “They have school in the morning. They’ll be up at six. You can meet them then.”
“Six? A.m.?”
The genuine horror in his drawl cooled the residual embers of insult, and she bit back a smile. “Do you have any idea how long it takes a six year old to choose the perfect outfit for the day? Times that by two. Then there’s hair to be done.” She cocked her head and studied him. “How are you with a curling iron?”
“Fuck.”
She couldn’t help herself. She laughed, and letting go of the tension of the last twenty-four hours was sweet. They were both here. Disappointing, but reality. She’d simply need to stay sharp and do her best to head off any potential disasters the situation provided, but she’d never been a glass-is-half-empty kind of girl. Life would work out for the girls
and
her. She’d see to it. She wound down to a chuckle.
“I’m not sure why, but I’m compelled to warn you. The girls will tear you to shreds over that type of language.”
She grinned at his wince, which quickly became a scowl.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. At least one of us is.”
She rolled her eyes. “No one’s forcing you to be here.”
He tugged the glove from one hand, then the next. “Clearly, you don’t know V.”
The confirmation he’d been coerced sobered her. “No, I don’t, but ultimately it doesn’t matter
why
you chose to comply with the terms of the will. What matters are those girls upstairs.”
He sighed and bent to set the duffle and briefcase at his feet. When he straightened and met her gaze, the brackets of tension were back. “Cut me some slack, will you? I’m as much a victim of this situation as you and contrary to what you obviously believe, I’m not a heartless bastard. I won’t do anything to make an already tough situation worse for a couple of six year olds.”
Fair enough, but his presence would make matters worse, for her most definitely, but more importantly, for the girls if he didn’t intend to stay past the time stipulated in the will. By his own admission, he knew nothing about little girls and had no desire to, but he’d made an appearance. Did he understand the impact of losing yet another person from their young lives would have on the twins?
“You may not intend to.”
The question in his arched black brows was eerily similar to many she’d fielded from his half sisters. “But?”
“But they’re scared and confused and have already lost too much. Once they discover you’re here, they’re going to expect you to stay and be a part of their lives. That means hair bows, tea parties, and plenty of little girl drama, and not just for ninety days.”
He stiffened but said nothing.
“However you feel about Pete, the girls are innocent and vulnerable to the exciting idea of a big brother. If you aren’t planning on sticking around for the long haul, please, I beg you, turn around and walk away.”
She held her breath when he didn’t immediately respond then lost her last hope of gaining immediate custody when he shook his head.
“Look, I realize you care about the girls and my presence complicates things. I have no idea what will happen at the end of this…” He hesitated, rolling his shoulders in an uncomfortable gesture. “This exercise, but whatever happens, I promise, I won’t up and disappear from their lives, okay?”
His promise didn’t tell her why he’d accepted the demands of the will when he’d been adamantly against the idea yesterday, but then, she’d said it didn’t matter. She couldn’t demand an answer now. With nothing left to do but accept the situation and hope for the best, she nodded. Her face must have betrayed her disappointment, because he dipped his knees to make better eye contact.
Humor danced in his eyes. “Curling iron, huh?”
She cleared her throat against the helpless flutters erupting in her belly and lifted her chin. “If you’re staying, we’re sharing duties. Including those with the curling iron. I’ll handle the hair wars tomorrow. You can start by helping with pancakes in the morning and work your way up to the fun stuff.”
He chuckled and bent to retrieve the briefcase, swinging the strap of the duffle over one shoulder. His laughing green eyes pinned her in place. “Sharing, huh? Sounds interesting. So, Gracie.” Animal white teeth flashed in his wicked smile. “Where am I bunking?”
Busy trying to control her erratic breathing, Gracie struggled to answer. Before she could, his head jerked up and his eyes went wary. His dark brows rose and his Adam’s apple bobbed on a heavy swallow. She followed his gaze to the top of the staircase.
Murphy bounded down the steps, a neon green bow unraveling at his throat. The frilly pink tutu wrapped around his sleek chest slipped toward his back legs. Giggles competed with the thump of tiny feet descending the stairs. In the lead, as usual, Angel was the first to spot Jake. Her eyes went wide, and she stumbled to a stop.
Gracie yelped out a warning, but it came out too late. Charlie promptly plowed into her twin. In a tangle of arms and legs, they tumbled down the remaining steps. Like human bowling balls, they swept the dog’s legs out from beneath him and landed in a heap on the landing.
Gracie gasped. Beside her, Jake stepped forward, his hand outstretched. He needn’t have bothered. The girls sat up immediately, their eyes wide with hesitant curiosity. Murphy scrambled to his feet and performed a full body shake. The tutu slipped farther. Then his head snapped up and his intent, dark eyes landed on the stranger at Gracie’s side.
Stepping forward, she meant to throw herself in the path of the fur-covered missile launching off the landing. With canine dexterity, the forty-pound scrapper avoided her outstretched hands. He shot past her, the green bow flapping behind him like a neon silk contrail.
She spun.
Jake’s big body stiffened as he braced against the impending collision. Murphy landed sure-footed, only to skid across the hardwood floor. Momentum carried him strait for Jake’s long legs.
No stranger to dexterity, Jake danced to the side. He snagged the dog’s collar and halted his progress. Murphy wriggled wildly, the claws of his scrambling paws clicking on the hardwood floor. He bucked, and Jake pivoted his upper body sideways.
The move would’ve worked, too, if Murphy was a normal dog, intent upon jumping up to plant his paws to Jake’s chest. She knew from experience that wasn’t the case.
“Murphy, no!”
Quick as a flash, he dropped his nose and whipped up his head. She cringed as his skull made solid contact with Jake’s unprotected crotch.
A loud
oof
accompanied the unexpected head butt. Jake’s briefcase clattered to the floor. Stunned pain etched his features.
“What the fu—” When he bent forward, the duffle slid from his shoulder to join the briefcase at his feet. He cupped one hand over his injured crotch and shoved the dog away with the other. Jaw clenched and long legs bent, he crossed one knee in front of the other. His eyes slid shut on a pained moan.
Gracie bit her lip at his vulnerable contortion, leaping forward to grab Murphy’s collar before he could launch a new assault. Long, dark lashes lifted to reveal Jake’s pain-hazed eyes. They pinned her to the spot.
“
Oh
crap.” She leaned down to wrap her arm around Murphy’s neck.
Jake’s chest expanded on a ragged breath. He opened his mouth, as if to speak, then snapped his teeth shut on another low moan. If looks could kill, her dog’s spotted hide would soon be bleeding from a dozen cuts. Unfazed by the daggers shooting from Jake’s eyes, Murphy’s wagging tail sliced the air as he strained against her hold.
Then the daggers changed targets.
Considering her admission of a similar fantasy moments earlier, she couldn’t blame Jake for his accusing glare. But geez, what did he think? She’d used telepathy or something to get her dog to do what she couldn’t?
If only
. Yet, the results were the same. Swallowing against the slightly hysterical giggle clawing its way up her throat, she straightened and patted Murphy on the head.
Charlie’s quiet voice interrupted the angry flush flooding Jake’s features. “Is that him?”
Standing shoulder-to-shoulder, the girls watched Jake with curious, identical blue eyes. Angel’s black brows were beetled in a frown spookily similar to his. Gracie turned. Jake had straightened to his full height. Only a slight stoop telegraphed his remaining discomfort. He stood stiffly under the girls’ intent regard.
Angel jutted her chin at a belligerent angle. “Are you our big brother?”
His gaze sliced to Gracie, and she was surprised to see the sharp edge of panic eclipsing the pain in his eyes.
Well, isn’t this interesting? Is big, bad Jake Malone afraid of a couple of six year-old girls? Oh, the possibilities….
She twitched with the need to do a giddy, happy dance and settled for the silent celebration ripping through her head. The cranial victory party was short-lived however, once she glanced at the girls. Their tension matched his.
Damn it! As much as she’d enjoy seeing him fall flat on his face, she simply couldn’t let it happen. Ninety days was a long time, and if Jake ultimately failed to win the girls over, she’d do plenty of celebrating when she gained custody. In the meantime, she’d do what she could to make the transition from strangers to strange siblings easier—for the girls. They’d just lost their remaining parent, after all. They were orphans.
The term made her flinch inwardly. Hanna’s brother Timmy might be correct technically, but if she ever got her hands on the big-mouthed brat, she’d strangle him. She tightened her grip on Murphy and held out her free hand. “Come here, girls.”
Suddenly shy, they shuffled off the landing and down the final two steps. As one, they moved close to her side. She wrapped her arm around their shoulders, encompassing both. “Angel, Charlie, this is Jake Malone. Your half brother.”
Charlie tilted her head and studied his face. She spoke in a stage whisper. “He’s really big, and he looks mean.”
“Grownups always look mean when they don’t know what to say,” Angel retorted with surprising insight.
Gracie met Jake’s unsure gaze and lifted a challenging brow. His eyes narrowed marginally when she shrugged and smiled.
Okay, big guy. Ball’s in your court.
He finally looked away and, as if he’d forgotten his encounter with Murphy, his face relaxed. His green eyes cleared and softened as he dropped into a crouch. Eyes level with the twins’, he glanced between them. “You’re right. Sometimes when grownups don’t know what to say, it makes them mad, and being mad can make a person look mean.”
Charlie pressed closer to Angel’s side. “Are you mad at us?”
“Why would I be mad at you?”
“Because sisters are supposed to live with their brother.” She tossed a quizzical glance at Gracie before turning back. “But we didn’t know where you were.”
Angel turned a scowl on her twin. “He could have found
us
. Even if grownup brothers don’t live with their sisters, he could’ve asked Daddy if he could come visit us.”
Jake opened his mouth then shut it again without speaking. Was he unsure how to explain the estranged relationship between him and Pete? Sympathy tugged at Gracie’s heart—for the twins, not him.
“Oh, baby.” She brushed a hand over Angel’s inky curls. “It’s not Jake’s fault. He didn’t know about the two of you until yesterday.”
“Why not?” Doubting blue eyes burned at her.
What to say? She knew nothing about the conflict between Jake and Pete. Her sigh was long and drawn out. “It’s complicated, girls.”
The flat line of Angel’s lips said she wasn’t satisfied with her answer.
“Jake only found out about you yesterday and here he is. I’d say that means he’s happy about having little sisters.”
She shot a warning glance at Jake. If he said anything to contradict her, she’d….
His eyes widened.
She was no less shocked at her defense of him and quickly turned away. What was she thinking, aiding the enemy? As uncomfortable as he appeared in dealing with the girls, he was bound to screw things up if left to his own devices. A possibility she’d do best to keep in mind.
When she met his gaze again, he lifted one dark brow in silent question. Was he waiting for her to explain the sudden change in living arrangements? She shrugged, letting him know any explanations for his presence at the farm were his deal, but if she hoped he’d falter at the awkward task, she was disappointed.