nodded solemnly. “Uh-huh. She said we were deviled prawns, Daddy.”
At his father’s blank look, Brady rolled his eyes. “Devil’s spawns, Dad.”
At that, Alex went very still and then his mouth tightened ominously.
Aunt Frannie better have her act together, Shay found herself thinking. Because unless she was badly mistaken, come the morning, heads were going to roll in Nannyland.
A little swell of approval washed through her. Maybe Alex wasn’t so bad, after all. Maybe he had a headache. Or maybe he was tired. Or maybe his briefs were too tight and that was the cause of his ill humor....
“All right.” He laced his hands together and ruined her attempt to give him the benefit of the doubt by turning a speculative, suspicious look on her and the boys that didn’t bode well for the future. “So who wants to explain why Mrs. Kiltz said that. And why she quit?” He knit his straight dark eyebrows together—the color startling in contrast to the gilt strands of his hair—and waited.
“Who knows?” Brady said quickly, in a tone that seemed to ask, Who knew why grown-ups did anything?
Unfortunately, Mikey took him literally. “I do,” the four-year-old said proudly. “It was Ike and Spike, Daddy. Mrs. Kiltz was ascared of them.” He turned to his older brothers. “Doncha remember? She screamed really loud when she—ow!” Mikey howled. “Daddy, Brady pinched me!”
Brady rounded his eyes innocently. “I did not!”
Alex’s voice rose as he tried to make himself heard over the sudden din. “Who are Ike and Spike?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Brady said hastily. “What matters is that there was somebody here to take care of us, to make sure nothing bad happened to us. Right?” He stared expectantly at his father.
“Yes, of course, but—”
“Then you should be happy ‘cuz Shay was here and she took really good care of us.” Brady’s mouth pursed for a second as he thought hard, and then his expression cleared. “She made us wash both our hands. And eat our vegetables before dessert. And—and she even helped us fix up our fort in the woods.”
“Yeah!” Nick joined in enthusiastically. “You should see it now, Daddy! Shay helped us make a trap door. And we cut a hole in the side, so now there’s a porthole. Shay knows how to do all kinds of neat stuff.”
His pique forgotten, Mikey quickly jumped on his brothers’ bandwagon. “She helped us make a flag to fly. It’s got skulls and daggers and—”
“Wait.” Alex raised his fingers and pinched the bridge of his nose as if to stave off a headache. A second passed before he dropped his hand and regarded the quartet facing him. “I want to be sure I’ve got this straight. Mrs. Kiltz quit because she was afraid of Ike and Spike, and Aunt Frannie’s sent you—” his amber eyes locked on Shay “—to replace her?”
“No—” Shay began.
“No way!” Brady interrupted again. “Shay’s cool!”
Alex was starting to look frazzled. “What does being cool have to do with anything?”
“Uncle Beau sent her.”
“Beau?”
“I’m staying at his cottage,” Shay interjected. “Didn’t you get his note?”
Alex shook his head, and she swallowed a groan, which was all the invitation Brady needed to plunge back into the conversation.
“See, Dad, Shay doesn’t have a house or a family and stuff. She’s all alone. No husband. No little boys of her own.” He sent a sharp-eyed look at his father to make sure Alex was paying attention, then gave a heartfelt sigh as if to underscore the sorry state of Shay’s life. “And she used to work, but now she doesn’t. So Uncle Beau said she could come here for a while and stay at his cottage.”
Shay stared at Brady, speechless. Good grief! With just a few well-chosen words, her young friend was making it sound as if she were not only homeless and unemployed, but close to destitute, as well. “Now just a minute—”
“She tells stories,” Nick said loudly, getting in his two cents’ worth. “About Amazons eating lizards.”
Oh. That was better. Now it sounded as if she were merely deranged.
“I’m afraid the boys are giving you the wrong impression,” she cut in. “I do tell ‘stories’ but that’s because I’m—”
Alex’s voice overrode hers. “You’re not from the employment agency?”
“No. I—”
“You’re only here because you know my brother?”
She was getting awfully tired of being interrupted. “Not in the Biblical sense,” she said firmly. For some obscure reason, it was important she make that clear. “But, yes. We’re friends. Colleagues. We work together, you see, and—”
“I’m sorry.” He reached up and raked his hand through his hair, and despite her growing frustration, she couldn’t help but stare as it fell flawlessly back in place.
How did he do that?
“I misunderstood.” His formal, stilted tone wrenched her gaze back to his face. “I thought—well, it doesn’t matter what I thought. I owe you my thanks. If you hadn’t been here—” He stopped, reached into his pocket, pulled out a money clip, peeled off some bills and then thrust them at her. “Here. For your time and trouble.”
Shay looked from him to the money and back again and told herself not to feel insulted. “That’s very kind, but no.” She stuck her hands in the back pockets of her shorts to underscore her conviction. “Hanging out with your sons has been my pleasure.” She glanced fondly at the boys. “They’re terrific. I had a great time.”
Alex’s gaze skimmed over her. His mouth tightened as he made note of her stubborn posture. “I insist. You earned it.” Obviously irritated, he glanced away and did a slow, unhurried inventory of the room...throw rugs wadded in a heap in the corner, towels scattered across the counter and the sad remains of the laundry hamper strewn in bits and pieces across the floor. He brought his eyes back to meet Shay’s. “I will, of course, take over from here.”
“But, Dad!” all three boys protested in unison.
Nick’s voice rose above the others. “Shay promised to show us later how to make dinner in a fire pit!”
A small muscle in Alex’s jaw twitched. “Not tonight,” he said firmly. “I’m sure Ms. Spenser is anxious to get back to the cottage and resume her vacation.” His hooded golden gaze swung from his sons’ imploring faces to Shay. “You are, of course, welcome to stay there as long as you like.”
It was a very generous offer—given that the cottage belonged to his brother. Still, the underlying message was clear. She was not wanted or needed here.
“But, Dad!” Brady repeated. “We want
