running boy suddenly halted. Drew wasn’t a voice raiser and wasn’t about to start now. Why yell when you could rationally explain your position? Of course, he doubted that his normal communication tools would be as effective with these two.
Plus, he was still somewhat of a novelty, so the boys were sizing him up. He motioned both of the children over to him and knelt down so he didn’t tower over them. His brother had the same build, so he knew they wouldn’t be intimidated by his size. But he wanted to be on eye level with them so they would be forced to look at him to hear what he had to say.
“You two are going to go wash up and get your pajamas on.”
“We don’t want to take no baths,” Caden whined as Aiden dropped to the floor in a dramatic heap.
“Your dad and I didn’t like taking baths when we were your age, either. But we weren’t allowed to have brownies or play Robot Blasters unless we were clean.”
“What are Robot Blasters?” Aiden hopped up to attention, his despair quickly turning to eagerness.
“It’s a special game only for twins. Your dad and I made it up a long time ago, and it’s very secret and unique. I can’t tell you about it until you can show that you’re able to follow rules and directions.”
“I call front bath.” Caden ran off to be first in the bathroom, Aiden hurrying to catch up.
“I hate getting stuck in the stern,” his brother complained, but he followed anyway.
Drew’s mom collapsed on the sofa, clearly winded after her brownie-turned-spatula chase. “I can’t keep up with them like I used to.”
“Where’s Dad?” Drew asked.
“He’s at the health club, doing his water therapy. He’s been staying away more this visit. Says his sciatica has been acting up. But I think he’s just suffering from a case of naughty twinitis.”
His folks had been great parents, involved in everything from the Little League to the Cub Scouts. Marty Gregson had been a youth pastor when he’d met his wife, Donna, a schoolteacher. They’d both had a natural love for children, which Drew’s sister had inherited. But they were at the start of their golden years. And plainly, his unruly nephews were more than their retired lives could handle.
“I swear I love those boys to death, and so does your father. But I can’t tell you how grateful we are that you’re pulling a shift this summer. In fact, Dad didn’t want me to tell you this, but we’ve already got the RV loaded up, and the minute you drive off with the kids, we’re leaving for our grand tour. I thought it only fair to warn you that by the time you make it to the cabin, there won’t be the opportunity for any take-backs.” She must have seen his horrified expression. “I’m kidding, of course. We’ll be a phone call away if you need anything. You guys will be fine.”
Drew plopped down beside her, not sure if he was ready for the biggest responsibility he’d yet to face. He really needed her to tell him there would be light at the end of this tunnel. “It’s only three months, right?”
“I know you can do it, honey. Sure, they’re a handful, but you’re a trained psychologist. You’re used to dealing with behavior outside the norm, right?”
“Mom, I work with soldiers, not children.”
“Drew, it’s about time you settled down. You have a wonderful opportunity to spend time with your nephews and give this whole domesticity thing a try. It’s time to stop analyzing everything from behind all those textbooks of yours and start actually living life. Of course, it’d probably be easier if you were married and had an extra set of hands to help you, but your brother does this on his own all the time.”
Drew thought about Kylie and how, if they were married in the true sense of the word, she’d be helping him. Man, she might be helping him anyway if it turned out that she was pregnant. He didn’t even know if the woman liked kids. Or wanted them.
He was pretty sure he did, but then he looked toward the open bathroom door and saw the soaking wet hallway carpet. Before he could ask his mom about a flooding problem or a possible burst pipe, Donna Gregson shot off the sofa, her bare feet squishing with each running step on the flooded rug.
“Boys, I told you no more playing battleship or hurricane watch in the bathtub.”
A child’s squeal was followed by the crashing sound of water.
“That’s it. I’m going to bed.” His mom retreated, completely drenched from what Drew assumed was a water attack. “You’re on duty for now, Lieutenant Commander. Your father should be home in an hour if you need reinforcements.” She sloshed her way down to the end of the hall, and he heard the lock on the master bedroom door click into place.
After the morning he’d had, he’d promised himself he’d never drink again. But being confronted with two unmanageable nephews—and who knew what other problems awaiting him with Kylie in Sugar Falls—it took several minutes of mindful meditation and an unearthly amount of willpower to head to the linen closet for a stack of towels instead of running directly to his parents’ liquor cabinet.
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