terrible.” Leanne sipped her wine in silence. As Hadley was plating their food, she asked, “So was your encounter with him actually out of the usual, or were you just being dramatic?”
“I, uh...” Her reaction to him definitely hadn’t been typical. When he’d flashed those dimples at her, heat had coursed through her. She’d been so captivated by his smile that for a second, she’d forgotten about the surrounding mess or the noise of crying children. And when he’d rejected her offer of coffee, her disappointment had been irrationally powerful, too. She wanted to see him again. She wanted—
“You’re blushing! Let me guess, former grump Grayson Cox grew up to be good-looking.”
Extremely good-looking. “Are you implying I’m shallow?”
“I’m saying you already know most of the men in a fifty-mile radius, and none of them has put that look on your face lately. You should ask him to be your date for the reunion.”
“Oh, good grief. I just told you, he’s dealing with a lot right now. He has real priorities, and I doubt dancing in the Cupid’s Bow High gymnasium with some girl he barely remembers makes the list.” She carried the plates to the table. “Now, sit down and eat. No one should have to study on an empty stomach.”
After dinner, they spent an hour and a half on biology. “You’re so much smarter than you give yourself credit for,” Hadley said as Leanne was packing up her notes. “You need to have more faith in yourself.”
“Uh-huh. And what were your exact words when I suggested we should go suitcase shopping because you’ll need luggage after you win that writing residency in Colorado?”
Hadley’s face heated. Every time she thought about the application she’d sent in, she felt equal parts excited and nauseated. “I love that you believe in me, but I’m a longshot at best. Some of the applicants have probably published actual books, and I... Okay, I see your point. I guess we could both work on our confidence.”
Her sister nodded. “And you know what’s a good exercise for boosting self-confidence? When you ask a hot guy to your high-school reunion and he says yes.”
“Leanne! We covered this already. Now, if we’re done with the academics, I have some writing to do tonight.”
“You’re just saying that to get rid of me.”
“No, I’m saying it because it’s true. Getting rid of you is a bonus.”
“All right, I’m leaving. But when you become a rich and famous novelist, you have to take us on a fabulous spa weekend.”
“Deal.”
After locking the front door behind her sister and changing into a pair of yoga pants and her favorite Snoopy T-shirt, Hadley curled up on the couch with her laptop. As much as she loved her job at the library, this was her favorite time of day—when she got to play with words like they were clay, molding her own world and shaping fascinating characters.
Except, tonight, the characters weren’t cooperating.
The lanky inspector from Scotland Yard suddenly bore a striking resemblance to a rugged cowboy, and none of his dialogue came out right. After typing and deleting half a dozen attempts at the same sentence, she relented. For the moment, perhaps her time would be better spent on story research than the actual writing. She opened the search engine, preparing to fact-check the form of poison her villain used. But her fingers didn’t cooperate any better than her characters had. Instead of typing arsenic trioxide, she inexplicably typed Grayson Cox.
I am going to do story research. Really. Just as soon as she finished skimming a few articles about a certain rodeo champ.
* * *
GRAYSON WIPED A damp hand across his already damp jeans, noting that there seemed to be more water on him than on either of the two boys in the tub. But, silver lining, Sam and Tyler were both clean; Grayson had helped them wash their hair without anyone yelping about shampoo in his eyes and everyone seemed recovered from the earlier incident at the grocery store. He still wasn’t sure how they’d gone so quickly from a simple “Boys, no running” to total meltdown.
Yet, without the resulting meltdown, Hadley never would have poked her head around the corner to help.
Despite past irritations with her and the graceless way he’d handled their conversation, he didn’t regret seeing her. For one thing, she was a lot of fun to look at, with her dark shining eyes and full lips. He recalled her suggestion that they meet for coffee sometime. If he was successful in finding a job, who knew how long he and the boys would be in Cupid’s Bow? It would be nice to have a friend. Then again, a curvy brunette friend who’d stared at him with alternating interest and disappointment might be a complication he didn’t have room for right now.
He turned his attention back to the twins, who were happily splashing around like a couple of river otters. “All right, you two, if we don’t get you out, you’ll wrinkle into prunes.” He held up a towel. “Who’s first?”
They’d progressed to the pajama stage—Grayson helped Tyler correct course before he inadvertently stuck his head through the sleeve a third time—when Vi rapped her knuckles against the partially open door.
“Need any help?” she asked.
“I think we’re good now.” Except for the state of her bathroom. “But if you want to read them their story, I can mop up—”
“You won’t be there for story?” Sam’s eyes grew huge.
Grayson rocked back on his heels, meeting the boy’s gaze. “I was just going to let Violet read tonight so I can clean up the mess we made.”
The boy thrust his bottom lip out. “You hafta stay with us! ’til we fall asleep.”
Tyler nodded solemnly.
Grayson ran a hand over his jaw. His guess was that if you let kids dictate your actions, you ended up with spoiled monsters. But the twins were coping with extenuating circumstances. He stood. “Tell you what, I’ll straighten up in here while you two take this stuff to the laundry room. Violet can show you where, if you forgot.” He balled up their dirty clothes and a towel from the floor. “I’ll meet you in your room in time for story, okay?”
This met with everyone’s approval, but even forty minutes later, as Sam yawned and his eyes fluttered closed, a note of apprehension lingered in his voice. “You’ll be here tomorrow?”
“Absolutely,” Grayson said. “I’ll be here every day.” The enormity of his responsibility hit him anew. He was looking at years, decades, of trying to figure out what was right for these kids.
“And Violet will be here, too? And Tiff and Buster and Shep?”
Buster lifted his head from where he was lying at the foot of the bed, thumping his tail in reassurance. The boys had befriended the dogs immediately.
He squeezed Sam close. “We’ll all be here, buddy.” Grayson did have one appointment tomorrow—for a job interview Vi had arranged—but he’d remind the boys about that in the morning. For now, he just wanted Sam to feel secure. He understood the question the boy was really asking: are we going to get left again by the people we love? I miss them, too, buddy.
