The Nanny's Double Trouble. Christine Rimmer

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СКАЧАТЬ opened the door at his knock. “What now?”

      “Grace, I’m sorry we got into it.”

      “It’s all right,” she said flatly. He got the message. It was not all right. It was anything but.

      “Listen, go ahead. Go meet Erin. Enjoy your last night home.”

      She almost smiled. But she was still too pissed at him for that. “Thanks.”

      Don’t stay out too late. He closed his mouth over the words. She was an adult after all. He had trouble sometimes remembering that. She’d been a sweet little six-year-old in pigtails with two missing front teeth when George and Marie Bravo decided they needed a romantic getaway in Thailand. They got there just in time for the tsunami that killed them. And Grace had had to grow up without them.

      No, he wasn’t his baby sister’s father, but sometimes he felt like it. He liked it when she stayed home—and not only because she helped out with the kids. He wanted her safe, damn it, wanted all of them safe. Life was too dangerous. Anything could happen. He knew that from hard experience.

      “Have a good time.” He pushed the words out of his unwilling mouth.

      “I will,” she said obediently and then lifted her arms in a limp offer of a hug.

      He gathered her close, but only for a moment. She pulled free quickly, and he left her to go offer Keely some help setting up the white room for her studio.

      * * *

      By a little after eleven, they had the thread pegboard hung and covered with giant spools. He’d put up some shelves for her, ones he’d found down in the basement. The shelves used to be in his brother Matthias’s room way back before Matt moved out. She had two worktables set up, one for sketching and one for her sewing machine. There was an easel in the corner and another, smaller table next to it piled with paint and brushes.

      “This is looking good, Daniel. Thank you.”

      “What else needs doing?”

      “That’s it.” She hid a yawn behind her hand. “We are finished.”

      “You sure?”

      She pushed in the chair at her sewing table. “Yep.”

      He felt the oddest reluctance to head for his own room. After Grace left for her night out, it had been pretty much a no-pressure evening. He’d felt useful, helping Keely get the room the way she wanted it. And besides that, it was kind of good just to hang with her. Kind of companionable.

      He hadn’t had much of that, of companionship. Not for a long time. Not for a couple of years at least. Not since he’d found out that Lillie was pregnant.

      And really, since before that, even. More like five years, since about the time Lillie started really pushing him to try for a baby of their own.

      “Okay, what’d I say?” Keely asked.

      “Huh? Nothing. Why?”

      “You looked... I don’t know. Faraway. Unhappy.”

      He tried for a laugh. It came out as more of a grunt. “I always look unhappy. Ask anyone who knows me.”

      “Now, see. I want to say that’s not true. But, Daniel, it kind of is.”

      He had the absolutely unacceptable urge to start talking about Lillie, about how angry he still was at her after all this time, for betting on her life. And losing.

      What was the matter with him? To even consider spilling his guts about Lillie to Keely, of all people? That would be a bad idea of spectacular proportions.

      Wouldn’t it? Why did he have this powerful feeling that Keely would understand?

      Didn’t matter. He just wasn’t going there. No way.

      And he needed to get out of there. Now.

      He rubbed the back of his neck. “What can I say? Except, yeah, I’m a gloomy guy. And since you’re good to go here, I’ll see you in the morning.”

      She didn’t reply for several seconds, just looked at him, kind of thoughtful and sad, both at once. A soft sigh escaped her. “All right then. Night.”

      “Night—come on, Maisey. Let’s go.” The dog, stretched out by the window, got up and followed him from the room.

      With Maisey trotting along behind, he went down the stairs to let her out before bed. He walked fast, too, just in case Keely got it in her head to try to stop him, to start asking questions he saw no win in answering.

      * * *

      Daniel got in bed around midnight. He had trouble sleeping until a little after two, when he heard Grace come in. Relieved that she was home safe, he finally drifted off.

      He woke to the sound of one of the kids crying. Maisey was already out of her dog bed and sniffing at the door. She gave a worried little whine, urging him to hurry as he yanked on track pants and a frayed Go Beavers T-shirt. When he opened the door, she pushed out ahead of him, leading the way along the hallway to the twins’ bedroom.

      The door stood open, dim light spilling out. Maisey went in first.

      Keely was already there, Frannie in her arms. She was pacing the floor in the muted light from the little lamp on the green dresser. She turned when he entered, her hand on the back of Frannie’s head, stroking gently as Frannie sobbed against her shoulder.

      He felt that familiar ache his chest, the one he got when one of his own was hurting. A quick glance at Jake’s crib showed him his boy was still asleep. That miracle wouldn’t last long. “Let me take her,” he whispered.

      Keely kissed Frannie’s temple. “Here’s your daddy,” she murmured, keeping it low, probably hoping Jake wouldn’t wake up.

       Yeah. Good luck with that.

      Daniel held out his arms. With a sad little cry, Frannie twisted in Keely’s hold and fell toward him. “Da-Da!” she wailed. He caught her and gathered her in. She dropped her head against his chest. “Ow. Ow, ow, ow.”

      Keely moved in close, the soft sleeve of her flannel pajama top brushing his arm. He got a faint whiff of sweetness—her shampoo? Her perfume? “Ear infection?” she whispered.

      He felt the back of Frannie’s neck as she sobbed against his chest. “She seems kind of hot.”

      “I thought so, too.”

      “We should take her temperature.”

      “I’ll get the thermometer.”

      “It’s the one that says rectal on the case,” he advised over Frannie’s unhappy cries. Rectal. Story of his life. Rectal thermometers and never enough sleep—and did Keely know where to look? “Cabinet in the big bathroom,” he added. “On the left, second shelf. Just to be sure it’s sterile, clean it with alcohol and a little soap and water.”

      “You СКАЧАТЬ