To Win Her Love

by Mackenzie Crowne

  “You’re worrying over a situation you can’t control and, if you ask me, it’s unnecessary. From what I saw, the man isn’t interested. I’d bet a pound he doesn’t show up on our doorstep. And if I’m wrong, well, the girls may be dazzled by the idea of a big brother, but they love you.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “Of course I’m right.” She gave Gracie’s shoulder a quick squeeze before slipping the duffle from her fingers, along with her coat, and turning toward the staircase. “Shall I be leaving your things in the blue bedroom or would you rather the master suite?”

  “The blue room is fine. It’s closer to the nursery and the girls.” She shot a glance in the den and lowered her voice. “He can have the master suite. If he shows up.”

  Mary nodded. “We’ve had dinner already. I left a plate for you in the kitchen if you’re hungry.” She winked and headed up the stairs.

  In the den, Angel’s eyes flicked to Charlie in silent communication. They looked up to meet Gracie’s gaze across the distance. A shadow of uncertainty darkened Angel’s bluebell eyes. Older by three minutes, she had instinctively taken on the position as her twin’s protector from the time they could walk, boldly accepting responsibility for the many instances of mischief the pair created. Unfortunately, the current situation was beyond a six year old’s understanding.

  “Daddy went to heaven.”

  Grief tightened Gracie’s chest at the quiet comment and squeezed a bit tighter when Charlie straightened from her romp with Murphy to slip her hand into her twin’s. Gracie crossed the room to set her laptop on the coffee table before joining the girls on the floor. With an arm around each of them, she hugged them close. “Yes, he did.”

  “He went to see Mommy and Jesus.” Charlie cocked her head, peeking up from beneath thick lashes. “Miss Mary said Mommy must be happy to see him. She missed him a lot. She misses us, too.”

  Gracie smiled even as her heart wept for Sarah’s girls. “That’s exactly right. She misses you both terribly, but she’ll have to wait a long time to see you. It’s nice your daddy is there to keep her company, don’t you think?”

  Identical heads of inky black curls bobbed in agreement against her chest.

  “Timmy said we’re orphans.”

  “What?” Gracie broke the hug to look down at Angel.

  “Orphans are kids who don’t have mommies and daddies because they went to heaven. Timmy said orphans live in,” she scrunched her nose in concentration, “an orpha… an orphan jij.”

  Of all the…”Oh, baby. Who is Timmy?”

  “We had a sleepover at Hanna’s house,” Charlie supplied. “Timmy is her big brother. He’s nine.”

  “Well, don’t listen to him. You have me and Miss Mary, and you’ll live right here on the farm.”

  “With you?” they asked in tandem.

  Oh, God. She didn’t want to give them false hope when she didn’t know what would happen in the next three hours, much less at the end of three months, but they needed reassurance.

  “Would you like that?”

  “Oh, yes!” A bright smile spread over Charlie’s face.

  Angel’s smile came more slowly and was more wary than bright. “We have a big brother, too.”

  “His name is Jake,” Charlie added, “and he’s not little like Timmy. He’s big.”

  Very big.

  “Big brothers are supposed to live with their sisters. How come he doesn’t live with us?” Angel’s grumbled question came across as more of a complaint.

  A tricky question Gracie would have a better idea how to answer in—she glanced at the clock—two hours and thirty-eight minutes. She pasted on a smile she didn’t feel. “Well, he’s a grownup. Grownup brothers don’t always live with their sisters.”

  “Can we go visit him?” Charlie jumped to her feet to race to the coffee table in the center of the room. Murphy scrambled after her. Giggling at the dog’s interference, she shoved his nose aside to pull a sheet of paper from the drawer. She returned to hold out a crayon drawing. Primary colors depicted two little girls with a larger boy between them. “I drew him a picture.”

  Gracie pretended to study the drawing with interest, a difficult task with tears threatening. The evidence of Charlie’s fascination with the brother she’d yet to meet didn’t bode well for Gracie’s chances if Jake chose to meet Pete’s demands. As for taking the girls to see him if he didn’t… She wasn’t sure that would be a good idea. Jake hadn’t exactly been thrilled to learn of the existence of his “rugrat” half siblings.

  “We’ll see.”

  A frown wrinkled Charlie’s brow. “We’ll see means no.”

  “No, we’ll see means maybe. He’s a busy man, Charlie.”

  The frown morphed into a scowl and jolted Gracie. A facsimile of that scowl had been on the front page of Sports Daily on Monday morning and again in the formal living room across the hall yesterday. Other than their eyes, so like Sarah’s, the twins were pure Pete, with jet-black hair and warm complexions. Their uncanny resemblance to Jake was unnerving.

  “Maybe we can get him to come here to the farm for a visit sometime.”

  Charlie’s scowl blinked out, replaced with excitement. She skipped from foot to foot. “We can show him our room, Angel, and he can see how fast I ride my bike. I want to take off my training wheels. Miss Mary says I’m ready. So, can I?”

  “If Miss Mary thinks you’re ready, sure.”

  Charlie immediately ran for the closet tucked beneath the staircase.

  “Wait, baby. Not tonight. It’s dark outside.”

  She skidded to a stop and turned. “I’m not afraid of the dark. I don’t even have a night-light anymore.”

  Gracie smiled and rose to her feet. “You’re getting so big, both of you. But your bike’s in the barn and there’s snow on the ground.”

  Charlie cocked her head and pursed her lips. Her eyes brightened. “Then we could go sledding. Miss Mary took us shopping for new snowsuits ’cause our old ones are too small. They’re pink! Do you think he has a snowsuit?”

  The incongruous vision of the Outlaw Tight End zipped into a shiny, pink snowsuit loosened the knot of tension and made her chuckle. “Oh, I sure hope so. In the meantime, why don’t we go upstairs? I could use some help unpacking.”

  “I get to try your lipstick.”

  Gracie grinned down at Angel, still on her knees at her side. “Of course.”

  A happy smile met her reply. Angel hopped to her feet in a flash and raced for the stairs. Murphy bounded after her. Gracie laughed, her heart lighter than it had been since the reading of Pete’s will. Charlie might be dazzled by the idea of a new big brother, but Angel’s support was literally in the bag. The makeup bag.

  Gracie would bet a million dollars Jake Malone didn’t own a single tube of lipstick.

  Chapter 6

  Gracie leaned with her hips propped against the kitchen counter. The glass of wine Mary handed her ten minutes earlier rested forgotten by her elbow. The girls and Murphy were upstairs, hopefully settled for the night and blissfully unaware of the waiting game underway. She glared at the clock. Less than half an hour remained until the deadline.

  “The clock hands won’t spin any faster by watching them.” Her back to Gracie, Mary set out the makings for her nightly cup of tea.

  Gracie picked up her glass then set it aside again without drinking. “I can’t stand it. He may have no interest in a ready-made family, but with the value of Pete’s estate in the balance…” She shrugged. “Only a fool would turn down that kind of money.”

  Mary glanced over her shoulder. “Jake Malone didn’t strike me a fool.”

  She groaned.

  “Then again, he doesn’t need the money.”

  There was that. Manhattan’s fifty-five-million-dollar man had scored dozens of endorsement deals in addition to his multi-year contract. He might be twenty-five thousand dollars poorer, thanks to her and her blog,
but the Marauders’ number one tight end wasn’t exactly hurting for cash. Still…

  The teakettle sent out a shrill whistle. With a twist of her wrist, Mary shut off the burner. “If you want to go on up, I’ll make myself comfortable in the den and wait.”

  Tempting. She shook her head. “I don’t think I could—”

  They both spun to stare down the hallway at the solid knock on the front door.

  Oh, God.

  After a long moment, Mary rested a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Go open the door, child.”

  She would if she could get her legs to move. They’d frozen in place.

  Mary gave her a gentle nudge, shooing her toward the hallway. “Problems are more easily solved when faced head on.”

  She grimaced, wanting to argue this particular problem was more complicated than anyone knew and wouldn’t be easily solved, but what was the point? No one else would be knocking on the farmhouse door at this time of night. Jake had arrived.

  The outrageous requirements in Pete’s will set in motion potential consequences he couldn’t have foreseen, and she had no choice but to play out the resulting train wreck. With a fortifying breath, she stalked down the hallway and opened the door.

  Sure enough, Jake’s large frame filled the opening, typically gorgeous in faded jeans and a leather bomber jacket. The fingers of one gloved hand were wrapped around the strap of a large duffle bag slung over one wide shoulder. He held a briefcase in the other.

  No expression showed on his face, but the lines of strain bracketing his mouth gave him away. So much for the flirtatious and friendly man from this afternoon. The angry giant was back. He was here but wasn’t happy about it. Her dwindling hope sparked on a tiny ember. Ninety days was a long time to put up with an arrangement with which a person wanted no part.

  “Hello, Jake.”

  “Gracie.”

  “I didn’t think you were going to show.”

  His lips thinned in a sneer. “Don’t you mean you hoped I wouldn’t?”

  She blinked. After their charmingly congenial conversation this morning, his coldly furious comment was a sharp slap of reality. She straightened her shoulders and braced herself against the snarling predator who’d managed a direct hit. “I made no secret about the fact I want the girls.”

  His eyes narrowed along with his sharp snort. “And Pete’s estate doesn’t exactly represent pocket change.”

  “Excuse me?” Her jaw wanted to drop. How dare he infer she wanted the girls because of Pete’s money? Sure, she’d recently assigned that exact agenda to him, but she never would’ve made the accusation out loud. Not to him, anyway. Jake, it appeared, didn’t suffer from the affliction of tact.

  She snapped her mouth shut and met his challenging regard with a disdainful glare. With his hands full, she could knee him in the balls and slam the door in his face. Sorely tempted to follow through on the tempting fantasy, she didn’t get the chance.

  He shook his head and sighed. “Shit. I didn’t mean that.”

  She crossed her arms.

  Guilty frustration blazed in his eyes. “Sorry. I don’t react well when I’m pissed.”

  “I imagine that must be quite a problem for you. From what I’ve seen, you’re pissed more often than not.”

  His brows shot up.

  She bared her teeth in a blatantly false smile. “Sorry. I don’t react well when I’m insulted.”

  She blinked, thrown off balance when the angry giant suddenly disappeared.

  He dipped his chin and the bad boy Outlaw, adept at charming the masses off the field, deployed one of his many secret weapons. The brackets of strain softened into dimples with his pained smile. “I can tell. You look like you’re fantasizing about landing a fist to my nose.”

  She smirked, refusing to be charmed. “I wouldn’t use my fist, and the fantasy places the landing about two feet below your nose.”

  He barked a laugh, half chuckle, half wince. “Ouch.” Shuddering in a typical male reaction to a threat aimed at that most vulnerable area, he tucked the briefcase under his armpit and held up his right hand as though swearing an oath. “I promise never to insult you again.” He stuck out his hand. “Truce?”

  Considering the insults he’d tossed out with all but one of their conversations, she doubted he’d be able to keep his promise. She didn’t return his crooked smile, reluctantly placing her hand in his for a quick pump before stepping back and swinging the door wider in silent invitation. He hesitated briefly before stepping over the threshold into the foyer. She shut the door against the winter chill, watching silently as his smile faded behind a steady inspection of his surroundings.

  What did he see? A warm and welcoming home as she did? He glanced down the hall, eyeing the exquisite grandfather clock at one end. Sarah once explained the antique had belonged to Pete’s grandmother. Did Jake know that? Did he feel a connection to his long ago ancestor and mourn the fact the piece would pass on to his half sisters instead of him? Did he feel cheated out of his rightful place in Pete’s life, or did the bitterness over whatever transpired between them prevent any sense of familial connection?

  When he finally spoke, he proved her silent questions far off the mark. “Where are they? I expected the ru…uh, the twins to greet me.”

  She smirked at the slip. “The rugrats are in bed.”

  Humor twinkled in his eyes even as confusion puckered his brow. “Bed? It’s not even eight.”

  Clearly, he had no clue when it came to kids. “They have school in the morning. They’ll be up at six. You can meet them then.”

  “Six? A.m.?”

  The genuine horror in his drawl cooled the residual embers of insult, and she bit back a smile. “Do you have any idea how long it takes a six year old to choose the perfect outfit for the day? Times that by two. Then there’s hair to be done.” She cocked her head and studied him. “How are you with a curling iron?”

  “Fuck.”

  She couldn’t help herself. She laughed, and letting go of the tension of the last twenty-four hours was sweet. They were both here. Disappointing, but reality. She’d simply need to stay sharp and do her best to head off any potential disasters the situation provided, but she’d never been a glass-is-half-empty kind of girl. Life would work out for the girls and her. She’d see to it. She wound down to a chuckle.

  “I’m not sure why, but I’m compelled to warn you. The girls will tear you to shreds over that type of language.”

  She grinned at his wince, which quickly became a scowl.

  “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. At least one of us is.”

  She rolled her eyes. “No one’s forcing you to be here.”

  He tugged the glove from one hand, then the next. “Clearly, you don’t know V.”

  The confirmation he’d been coerced sobered her. “No, I don’t, but ultimately it doesn’t matter why you chose to comply with the terms of the will. What matters are those girls upstairs.”

  He sighed and bent to set the duffle and briefcase at his feet. When he straightened and met her gaze, the brackets of tension were back. “Cut me some slack, will you? I’m as much a victim of this situation as you and contrary to what you obviously believe, I’m not a heartless bastard. I won’t do anything to make an already tough situation worse for a couple of six year olds.”

  Fair enough, but his presence would make matters worse, for her most definitely, but more importantly, for the girls if he didn’t intend to stay past the time stipulated in the will. By his own admission, he knew nothing about little girls and had no desire to, but he’d made an appearance. Did he understand the impact of losing yet another person from their young lives would have on the twins?

  “You may not intend to.”

  The question in his arched black brows was eerily similar to many she’d fielded from his half sisters. “But?”

  “But they’re scared and confused and have already lost too much. Once they discove
r you’re here, they’re going to expect you to stay and be a part of their lives. That means hair bows, tea parties, and plenty of little girl drama, and not just for ninety days.”

  He stiffened but said nothing.

  “However you feel about Pete, the girls are innocent and vulnerable to the exciting idea of a big brother. If you aren’t planning on sticking around for the long haul, please, I beg you, turn around and walk away.”

  She held her breath when he didn’t immediately respond then lost her last hope of gaining immediate custody when he shook his head.

  “Look, I realize you care about the girls and my presence complicates things. I have no idea what will happen at the end of this…” He hesitated, rolling his shoulders in an uncomfortable gesture. “This exercise, but whatever happens, I promise, I won’t up and disappear from their lives, okay?”

  His promise didn’t tell her why he’d accepted the demands of the will when he’d been adamantly against the idea yesterday, but then, she’d said it didn’t matter. She couldn’t demand an answer now. With nothing left to do but accept the situation and hope for the best, she nodded. Her face must have betrayed her disappointment, because he dipped his knees to make better eye contact.

  Humor danced in his eyes. “Curling iron, huh?”

  She cleared her throat against the helpless flutters erupting in her belly and lifted her chin. “If you’re staying, we’re sharing duties. Including those with the curling iron. I’ll handle the hair wars tomorrow. You can start by helping with pancakes in the morning and work your way up to the fun stuff.”

  He chuckled and bent to retrieve the briefcase, swinging the strap of the duffle over one shoulder. His laughing green eyes pinned her in place. “Sharing, huh? Sounds interesting. So, Gracie.” Animal white teeth flashed in his wicked smile. “Where am I bunking?”

  Chapter 7

  Busy trying to control her erratic breathing, Gracie struggled to answer. Before she could, his head jerked up and his eyes went wary. His dark brows rose and his Adam’s apple bobbed on a heavy swallow. She followed his gaze to the top of the staircase.