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Wild Iris Ridge

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Год написания книги
2018
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“Daddy! Push me.”

Brendan sighed. “How did my children both get to be such bossy little things?”

She rose from the bench. “I’ve got this. Relax.”

“No. It’s fine.”

“I’d like to. Would it kill you to let me help with the kids for five seconds?”

So much for any amicable accords. He was back to glowering at her—but at least he sat back down on the bench and made a gesture for her to go ahead.

She moved behind Carter and gave him a hard, swift push that had him giggling in delight.

“Higher!” the little daredevil exclaimed. This one was going to give his father all kinds of trouble during his reckless teenage years, she expected.

“Sure thing. Except I’m going to blame you if my arms fall off.”

He giggled harder and swung his legs to help gain momentum.

“Faith says you’re staying for a month. Is that true?”

“That’s the plan, kiddo.”

“Yay! Then you can come to my birthday party. It’s next month. I’m going to be six.”

“Do you know,” she said, “I believe I heard a rumor somewhere that most five-year-old boys turn six on their next birthdays.”

He giggled. “Will you come?”

“I’ll have to see.”

She didn’t add that a lot could happen between now and next month. Given the tangled history between her and Brendan, she wasn’t entirely sure she would be welcome at his son’s birthday party in a month.

* * *

TWO EVENINGS LATER, Lucy juggled an umbrella in one hand, a bag from her favorite toy store in Seattle in the other and a box in both arms as she pressed Brendan’s doorbell with her elbow.

She had always loved his house. It was comfortable and homey, built of a warm, rust-colored brick in the Craftsman style, with a wide front porch and two dormer windows. Situated on a higher plot in town, it had lovely views down the hill into downtown Hope’s Crossing.

Jess’s favorite rocking chair had a few old cobwebs underneath it, as if nobody used it much anymore.

She didn’t have time to feel more than a sharp, familiar pang of loss over that before the door jerked open. Brendan stood on the other side, a cordless house phone cradled in the crook of his shoulder and neck and his fingers texting on a cell phone in his hand.

He appeared astonished to see her for all of two seconds before his features shifted into an expression of sheer gratitude. He grabbed the box out of her arms with one hand and practically yanked her inside with the other.

“I understand,” he said into the phone in a clear tone of dismissal. “If you can’t do it, you can’t do it. Thanks, anyway. Talk to you soon.”

He hung up and set the cordless receiver down on a cluttered table in the entryway at the same time he shoved the cell phone back in his pocket. “Lucy Drake, you are an answer to prayer.”

She couldn’t recall anyone ever saying that to her, especially not Brendan Caine. “I am?”

“Yes! Please tell me you’re free for the next couple of hours.”

She mentally perused her evening schedule and came up empty. As usual. “I should be free,” she said, rather warily.

“Any chance you might be willing to stay with the kids for me? I’m supposed to be off tonight but I just got a call that three of our four full-time paramedics and four more of the volunteers are out with stomach trouble, probably food poisoning from some bad Chinese food they had for lunch, and we’ve had a string of accidents from the rain. I’m got to go in and cover until the overnight shift comes in. I know it’s a lot to ask but the kids have already had their baths and are almost ready for bed.”

She was stunned at the unexpected request but thrilled at the same time that he would even consider turning to her, a woman he so obviously disliked. “Of course. I’m happy to stay with them.”

“None of my usual backup caregivers are available,” he said, looking frazzled. “If you hadn’t showed up, I was going to have to drag them in with me, pajamas and all, as a last resort. Thank you. I owe you.”

“Not at all. I’ll be delighted to spend a little time with them. You know I will.”

“I’ll try to get off as early as I can. Midnight would be the latest.”

“No problem. I can get them to sleep.”

“Thanks. I’ve got to run. Um, make yourself comfortable. Whatever you need. My cell number is on the fridge if you need me.”

“We’ll be fine.”

“Thanks. Seriously. I owe you.”

“You don’t. I owe you for giving me the chance to spend time with them.”

“Give me a second. I just have to change. The kids should be changing into pajamas. I imagine they’ll be in any moment.”

She waved him off and stood for a moment in the entryway of his house, left a little off-kilter by the unexpected turn of events.

This was good, though. She couldn’t imagine anything she would rather do than spend the evening with her two favorite children.

She set the hefty box on the bottom step and put the toy store bag on top of it. She was shrugging out of her raincoat when Carter and Faith came barreling down the hall, their hair wet. Carter was wearing LEGO Star Wars pajamas, and Faith had on a nightgown sporting Strawberry Shortcake. They looked startled to see her but rushed over with ready hugs.

“What are you doing here?” Faith asked.

“Well, my plan was to drop a few things off for you, but your dad just asked me to stay with you for a couple of hours while he runs into work.”

“Yay!” Faith exclaimed just as Brendan emerged from down the hall wearing navy cargo pants and a white polo shirt with the logo of the Hope’s Crossing Fire Department on the chest. He looked big and tough and dangerous.

Oh, and delicious. She couldn’t deny that.

“Good news, kids,” he said, grabbing a set of keys off a table in the entryway. “You get to stay in your own beds instead of sleeping at Grandpa’s place or at Aunt Charlotte’s. Your aunt Lucy has kindly agreed to keep an eye on you this evening until I can make it back.”

Carter raced to her and gave her a complicated high-five. Somehow she managed to keep up. “Can we stay up until ten?” he asked.

“Eight-thirty,” she countered. She figured that was appropriate when Brendan didn’t protest the negotiation.

“Yay! That’s half an hour later than usual,” Carter exclaimed.
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