Her Unexpected Family. Ruth Herne Logan

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      “You don’t remember?” She made a face as he swung her car door open. “It couldn’t have been all that good if you don’t remember it from last spring.”

      “Dolly was sick.” He shrugged. “When you’re doing this stuff on your own and you get a sick kid, you opt out of the party and stay home.”

      “My dad was like that, too. All about priorities.”

      “Your father’s a good guy.” Grant lowered his voice, unsure how to approach the next subject. “I’m glad he’s doing better, but I was sorry to hear about the cancer. I lost my mom to breast cancer and I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.”

      “Are we ever?” She stared up at the stars once more, then looked back at him. Her breath puffed a tiny cloud of frozen steam into the air until a breath of wind sent it dancing away. “I’m sorry you lost her. Is your dad still alive?”

      “Don’t know. Don’t much care. He left when Christa was a baby. I barely remember him, so it’s like I never had a father. My mother never remarried—she said it was too risky with me and my sister. What if she married the wrong person? What if he was mean to us? So she wouldn’t let herself date or get interested in anyone until we were on our own, and by that time, she’d already had her first bout of cancer. She survived that one, but the second round, well...” He waited a moment to let the rise of emotion pass. “You know.”

      “So being a good father is truly important to you.”

      He stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets and gave a slow nod. “Yeah, of course. I didn’t have one so it’s not like I’ve got some great role model, but my mother was solid. I kind of do what she would have done except I’m more cautious, I don’t bake cookies and I’m a lousy cook. Happily, Dolly and Tim love PB&J, mac and cheese, and Oreos. With the occasional vegetable thrown in as long as it’s corn or squash.”

      “They’re beautiful kids.”

      They were, and because he was their only parent, he needed to have a plan, always. “Thank you. I’m real lucky to have them.”

      She flashed him a look he couldn’t read, then nodded. “Kids are a blessing, for sure. Well.” She slipped into her car. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

      He didn’t want to wait until tomorrow, but he wasn’t a rash man. He didn’t act on impulse. He couldn’t afford to, not now when two small children meant so much. He wasn’t about to make foolish mistakes to disrupt their lives. He stepped back, lifted his hand and nodded. “See you then.”

      * * *

      If ever a man needed some serious roadside repair, it was Grant McCarthy. Oh, she saw the good side of the guy. His devotion to his children, his strong work ethic, the sacrificial nature and his strong, rugged good looks. A man who saw what needed to be done and simply did it. Those were all wonderful qualities.

      But Emily had learned one thing during her years of pageants and contests. Judging was fine on stage, but in everyday life, judgmental people weren’t her style and the minute Grant McCarthy started talking about his father, red flags popped up.

      Judge not, that ye be not judged.

      She’d lived both sides of that wise verse. She was older now and wiser than the college-age contestant she’d been when Chris Barrister won her heart six years ago.

      He’d tossed her aside when he grew tired of her, and she’d learned to be more cautious as a result. No one would ever get to treat her or her heart casually ever again.

      But something about Grant spoke to her.

      Was it because they’d both suffered through rough marriages? His wife dumped him. Her husband gave her the boot, albeit with a generous settlement, but the buyout didn’t heal the ache of knowing she wasn’t enough. No matter how hard she worked, how sweet or funny or kind she was, how good she looked, she hadn’t been enough to keep him happy for more than two years of marriage. Being let go from his father’s company simply underscored rampant opinion that she’d gotten the job through nothing more than looking good and being married to the boss’s son.

      That galled her because she’d done a great job for Barrister’s, Inc., and the women’s department sales figures had increased dramatically while she sat in the head buyer’s chair. She’d garnered recognition and job interest from other department store chains when Noel Barrister let her go, but then Dad got sick and she knew what she needed to do.

      So here she was, in Grace Haven, following in Kimberly’s shadow once again.

      She pulled into the driveway a few minutes later, drove past the carriage house garage, where her future brother-in-law and his daughter, Amy, lived, and walked into her parents’ house, restless.

      “How’d it go?” Kimberly looked up from her laptop. “Did he pick a venue tonight or are you still on for tomorrow night?”

      “Tomorrow night,” Emily said. She flopped down into her father’s favorite recliner, kicked off her shoes and rubbed her sore, aching feet. “Remind me to get rid of those shoes, no matter how nice they look with this dress.”

      “That dress is a knockout,” Rory said as she came in from the kitchen. She took one look at Emily, then sank onto the carpet and started rubbing her sister’s feet. “What’s wrong? Did tonight go badly?”

      “No. It was fine. I’m just—” Emily thought, came up with nothing and shrugged. “Out of sorts. Restless. Wondering about everything, the meaning of life, why things happen like they do and why women feel the need to wear stupid shoes.”

      “You like him,” Kimberly noted from her chair.

      It was beyond annoying to have an older sister who prided herself on being right, especially when it was true too much of the time. “At this moment I don’t like anyone.”

      “Mmm-hmm.” Kimberly jotted something into the laptop, and said, “Invite him to my wedding.”

      “Not gonna happen.” She looked down at Rory, still massaging the ache out of her left foot. “Thank you.”

      A big woof sounded from outside.

      Mags had been sound asleep, curled in a tiny ball on the carpet, but when Drew Slade’s German shepherd barked, she sprang up, raced to the door and stood on her tiny back legs, pawing.

      “Come on, Mags.” Drew came through the door, let the little dog out then slid the door shut. “Cold and getting colder. They said snow in the mountains.”

      “And so it begins.” Emily lolled her head back and waved to him. “Hey, Drew.”

      He smiled at her, winked and walked across the floor to Kimberly. “You can tell it’s a sure thing when your future wife doesn’t even bother to get out of her chair to greet you with a kiss.”

      Kimberly hit one last button, set the computer aside and gave him the kiss he sought.

      Emily pouted inside.

      She had thought she’d had that once. What was it that made someone fickle? To want something СКАЧАТЬ