Yours To Keep

by Shannon Stacey

  “A lodge for snowmobilers, I think Emma said?”

  “Any winter activities, actually, but primarily sledders.” He was trying to get used to it, but it was bizarre how much these two women knew about him. “My great-grandfather started the Northern Star Lodge as an exclusive hunting club but, by the time my dad took it over, nobody was doing that much anymore and the clientele changed. It’s right on the sled trails, so it does okay.”

  “What do the rest of them do?”

  He might have resented the twenty questions game if not for the fact it gave him an excuse to ignore the green tree trunks left on his plate. “The oldest, Mitch, runs a controlled demolition company. It’s based out of New York, but he hotel-hops mostly. Then there’s Ryan, who builds custom homes in the Boston area. I’m in the middle and then there’s Liz, who lives out in New Mexico, of all places. Josh is the youngest.”

  “Do you see them often?”

  It was pretty benign, as questions went, but Sean took another sip of his drink to buy himself a few seconds. He’d seen them all but Liz a few days ago, when they’d gathered at Ryan’s place in Mass for a welcome-home party. With the lodge a five-hour drive from Boston’s Logan Airport on top of the flights and busy schedules, it had made more sense to gather at Ryan’s. And since he wasn’t quite ready to settle down and commit to anything, Sean had decided to spend some time in New Hampshire before heading home.

  But, as far as Cat knew, he’d been out of the army for two years, not less than two weeks.

  “I see them often enough to not miss them too badly,” he said, “but not so much we get on each other’s nerves.”

  Emma cleared her throat. “Do you want some more chicken divan, Sean? There’s plenty.”

  Hell, no. “No thanks. It was good, though.”

  Her smile brightened, causing him a pang of guilt for the lie. Or maybe the pang was the broccoli. “I have an apple pie for dessert. Store-bought, of course, since I wanted it to actually taste good.”

  Cat laughed. “I did everything I could to teach her how to cook. Lost cause, I guess. She’d rather play in the dirt. Do you cook, Sean?”

  “I grill. We grill a lot.” He didn’t miss the way Emma’s eyes widened.

  “At least you won’t starve. I’ve taken to grilling a lot in Florida because it’s better than heating up the house. More often than not we end up gathering at one person’s grill and throwing something on it, like a potluck. Maybe tomorrow I can make you my famous honey-ginger grilled salmon.”

  Emma gave him a quick shake of her head, panic in her eyes. Shit. She didn’t own a barbeque grill? “It’s…uh. We had to scrap it.”

  Cat’s eyebrows rose. “Scrap it?”

  “I blew it up,” Emma said in a rush. “And we haven’t bought a new one yet. I mean, not a big explosion, of course, but I did something wrong with the propane tank and…I broke it.”

  “And you wonder why I worry about you.”

  Sean smothered a chuckle with his napkin. Way to convince somebody you can be left unattended, he thought.

  “Of course, I worry a lot less now that you have Sean.”

  The look she gave him—all sweet and trusting and gooey with gratitude—made him feel like a heel. No. Wrong body part. He felt like an ass and he had to grit his teeth to keep from spilling everything.

  Then he looked at Emma and the urge receded. She was watching her grandmother and it seemed like some of the tension eased out of her body. Her expression was full of love and relief, reminding him of why they were in this position—to ease Cat’s mind so she could enjoy her retirement. At least it seemed to be working.

  The store-bought apple pie went a long way toward making him more comfortable but, at the first opportunity, he excused himself. “I need to make a few phone calls, so I’ll leave you ladies to catch up.”

  It was a lie but, hell, what was one more? On his way out, he ducked into Emma’s office and grabbed one of the umpteen pads of sticky notes she had scattered on the desk and rummaged around until he found a Sharpie marker.

  Once upstairs, he went straight into their shared bathroom. He peeled the top sticky note off the pad and stuck it to the mirror, and then pulled the cap off the Sharpie.

  Emma stared at the notes stuck to the mirror, her fingers curled over the edge of the sink. Her face was washed. Hair and teeth brushed. It was time to go out and curl up on the couch and try to sleep.

  I hate broccoli. And peas.

  Great. So he wasn’t a fan of green vegetables. Where was the information she really needed to know—namely, whether or not he wore pajamas? It hadn’t occurred to her to worry about it before but, holy hell, she was worrying about it now.

  She was wearing pajamas, of course. Or what passed for them in her world. A well-worn and oversized University of New Hampshire T-shirt over soft, flannel boxers. She’d considered buying something prettier and a little more feminine, but she didn’t want to send mixed messages to the man who’d be sleeping in her bed.

  All she could do was hope Sean had put the same consideration into his sleeping attire. He probably didn’t sleep in the buff, despite the deliciously vivid visual of that her imagination had no trouble conjuring. He’d been in the army for twelve years—a good chunk of that deployed overseas—and surely they weren’t in the habit of sleeping nude.

  Flannel would be nice. And not battered shorts, like hers. Long pants and a long-sleeved shirt buttoned up to his throat would be nice, like something Ward Cleaver would have worn to bed in his 1950s’ sitcom.

  When she finally dropped the curtain on the mental drama and left the bathroom, she was a little disappointed he was already asleep. Clearly he wasn’t struggling to hold back the reins of runaway sexual attraction like she was. He’d dimmed the overhead light, but she could hear him softly snoring and make out the sheet pulled halfway up his stomach. His naked stomach, which led her gaze to his naked chest and then to his naked shoulders, the muscles nicely highlighted by the way he slept with his arms raised over his head.

  Was the rest of him naked, too?

  “When you stare at somebody who’s sleeping,” he mumbled without moving or opening his eyes, “they usually wake up.”

  Busted. Her face burned as though his words were a blowtorch and she rushed across the room to slap the light switch off. In the faint glow of moonlight penetrating her curtains, she went to her couch and tried to get comfortable. It wasn’t quite long enough, but she curled up under the light cotton blanket and closed her eyes.

  Getting caught staring on the first night was embarrassing, but at least he wasn’t a mind reader. There was no way he could guess she’d been wondering what he wore from the waist down.

  “Good night, Emma.”

  The quiet, husky voice in the darkness made her shiver. “’Night, Sean.”

  A little less than seven hours of tossing and turning later, Emma’s question was answered—much to the detriment of her recently revived libido.

  At some point during the night, Sean had thrown off the sheet. Probably right around the time he rolled onto his stomach. With his hands shoved under his pillow and one knee drawn up a little, she had a clear view of his ass—showcased perfectly in dark blue boxer briefs.

  Even though she was careful not to look directly at the ass in question, Sean stirred. He shoved his face a little deeper into the pillow and stretched one of those not-quite-awake stretches that made his entire body—and hers—vibrate and the muscles of his back ripple.

  Since there was no way she couldn’t stare directly at that view, but she didn’t want to get caught looking again, Emma scrambled off the couch. Grabbing the stack of clothes she’d put out the night before, she went into the bathroom and closed the door against temptation.

  When she emerged a while later, refreshed and dressed and ready to face the day, Sean was sitting on the edge of the bed, scrubbing his face with his hands. He’d thrown on a pair of jeans, but she noticed immediately he hadn’t done up the fly.
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br />   “Good morning,” she said, injecting a little more cheer into her voice than she felt.

  “Morning.”

  So, not a morning person, then. Since, unlike her, he hadn’t had any problem falling asleep, she didn’t think he was still tired. “If I know Gram, she’s already working on breakfast and I didn’t get my lack of cooking ability from her.”

  “I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

  He didn’t seem inclined to make conversation, so she left the room and followed the heavenly scent of coffee and bacon to the kitchen. “Morning, Gram.”

  Cat paused in stirring a big batch of scrambled eggs in her favorite cast-iron skillet, which had been sadly neglected in her absence. “Morning, sweetie. Is Sean up?”

  “He’ll be down in a few minutes.” Figuring it was something a domesticated woman would do, she fixed him a cup of coffee along with her own. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble for us.”

  “Don’t think I didn’t see the boxes of doughnuts and instant oatmeal in the pantry. And cooking for one isn’t any fun.”

  Emma didn’t think cooking for any amount of people was fun, but she wasn’t going to turn down a homemade breakfast. “I was able to rearrange a few things to get a couple of days off, but Wednesday I have a job I have to do. And Sean, of course.”

  “I knew you’d be busy this time of year, so I wasn’t expecting you to keep me company every minute. I’ll probably go into town and see some old friends.”

  Emma smiled, but a slight tremor racked her insides. The nearest town, where they’d always gone and Emma had gone to school, wasn’t a small town, but it wasn’t big, either. Knowing Gram was probably in contact with old friends, she’d been pretending she was engaged there, too. Her own friends knew the truth, but anybody in Gram’s circle was convinced Emma was engaged, even though they’d never met the lucky fellow.

  It had been a careful balancing act. Sean tended to travel to the town where his family lived so he could visit them at the same, she told people. And sometimes they’d just missed him. Or he’d gone back to Maine for a visit but work had kept her from accompanying him.

  Hopefully all her groundwork wouldn’t crumble under Gram’s scrutiny.

  “Something smells good,” Sean said as he walked into the kitchen. And like any good fiancé, he slid an arm around Emma’s waist and leaned in for a quick morning kiss, smelling of shampoo and shaving cream and toothpaste.

  It was over almost before she registered his intention, but she managed not to jump back like…how had he put it? A virgin at a frat party?

  “You’re in for a treat,” she said in a surprisingly normal voice. “Gram’s scrambled eggs are to die for.”

  “So what’s the plan for today?” Gram asked while dishing up the eggs and bacon.

  “Whatever you want to do.” Emma handed Sean his coffee cup.

  “We should go buy a new grill,” Gram said. “And I’ll see if there’s any decent salmon to be had.”

  Emma nodded. At least grill shopping meant going to the city rather than in to town. One step at a time. One day at a time. That’s how they’d get through the month.

  And, God help her, one kiss at a time.

  Chapter Six

  Sean got the summons he’d been dreading in the form of a voice mail left on his cell phone while they were struggling to get the new grill out of the back of the truck.

  “Sean, it’s Aunt Mary.” As if any other woman in his life ever used that tone of voice with him. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but I want to see you. Today. Alone. Don’t make me come looking for you, young man.”

  Yeah, he was in trouble. And it was own damn fault because he should have known his cousins couldn’t keep their mouths shut. They never had. Especially Mikey. He was always the rat growing up.

  He gave Emma and Cat a song and dance about promising his uncle he’d give him a hand changing the oil in his riding lawnmower and made the drive over like a criminal being marched into the courtroom to face the judge. This judge, though, would whack the shit out of him with kitchen utensils if she didn’t like his answers.

  He was already exhausted and a confrontation with his aunt was the last thing he wanted. The clock on Emma’s bedside table had read one in the morning when a sound had penetrated his sleep. A sleepy, sexy and definitely feminine moan wasn’t a bad thing to wake up to, except when the female was sleeping on a couch across the room. Alone.

  She’d quieted after that single sound, but his body sure as hell hadn’t. As a result, he’d drifted in and out of a tortured sleep and woken up on the wrong side of the bed.

  Aunt Mary was in the kitchen—as usual—when he arrived and right after pointing him in that direction, Uncle Leo disappeared into his den and closed the door. Chicken.

  She started in on him the second he crossed the threshold from the living room. “I was wrong about you all these years. I always thought you were a smart boy, but you don’t have the brains God gave a jackass.”

  “Aunt Mary, I—”

  “Don’t you Aunt Mary me, Sean Michael Kowalski. I should go get my wooden spoon and thunk some sense into that thick head of yours.”

  Sean sighed and tried to school his expression into something closer to contrition than belligerence. Not that she wouldn’t see through it, but he made the effort regardless. “I’m just helping her out for a few weeks so that—”

  “Helping her lie to her grandmother, you mean.”

  “I know it sounds bad, but—”

  “Because you were raised better than that.”

  He’d known this wouldn’t be easy, but he’d been hoping to at least finish a sentence or two. “Can I talk? Please?”

  “When you have something sensible to say.”

  He gave himself a few seconds so none of his frustration would show in his voice. Hopefully. “Remember after high school when I dumped my bike and I told you I had a bruised elbow and a little road rash?”

  She pinned him with a look that made him want to squirm. “Yes.”

  “Well, I dumped my bike because a truck hit me. I also had a bad concussion. And four broken bones.”

  Her expression froze for a few seconds, but then he saw the comprehension in her eyes, followed by an unholy gleam of pissed off. “You little bastard. Why would you do that?”

  “I didn’t want you to worry. You wouldn’t have believed I was okay without leaving your family to come take care of me and Lisa was so pregnant she was going to pop any day.”

  “You’re my family, too, and don’t you forget it.”

  “You would have been stressed out for no reason because there was nothing you could do. I didn’t want that for you so I talked the others into lying for me. It’s the same situation Emma found herself in, more or less.”

  She glared at him, her arms folded across her chest. “Protecting weak, old women from the truth, you mean?”

  Oh, hell no. “You are not weak or old, Aunt Mary, and neither is Cat. I know you’re upset about this, but I bet you’ve hedged around the truth a time or two to keep somebody you love from being unhappy.”

  When she didn’t respond right away, he thought maybe she was softening. “I don’t like this at all, Sean.”

  “I gave her my word.” That was the bottom line.

  Her mouth tightened. “And?”

  “And…” He took a deep breath. “If you can’t back me up on this, I’ll have to keep Cat away from here. And she knows you’re nearby, which means I’ll have to say we had a falling out.”

  “Don’t threaten me, young man,” she said, but her tone was a little softer. She of all people knew Kowalski men were stubborn and meant what they said.

  But the last thing he ever want to do was have conflict with this woman. He loved her too much. “I’ve seen them together and Emma was right. Cat’s a lot happier now, thinking we’re engaged, and that’s all Emma’s trying to do. Please, Aunt Mary. I gave her my word.”

  She sighed—the d
eep, meaningful sigh only a mother could really master. “What is it you want me to do?”

  “Cat wants to meet you. Maybe have dinner. I was thinking…hoping you and Uncle Leo could have a barbeque.”

  She was still considering it when Joe walked into the kitchen and stopped. Sean watched him take in his mother’s body language and turn to retreat.

  “Joseph, did you know about this craziness Sean’s involved with?”

  The guy gave him a look promising retribution in the near future and turned back to his mom. “Yes, I did.”

  “And you didn’t tell me?”

  “It wasn’t my place, Ma. And they’re not hurting anybody.”

  “It’s wrong.”

  Joe smiled what was probably supposed to be a placating smile, but his obvious amusement at Sean’s predicament was ruining it. “It’s wrong that Emma wanted her grandmother to enjoy her new life in Florida?”

  “Don’t get wise with me, Joseph. That’s not the issue here.”

  “It is the issue,” Sean said, drawing his aunt’s gaze back to him. “Her grandmother’s peace of mind is exactly the issue.”

  She stared at his face intently for what seemed like forever and he hoped like hell none of his own doubts showed there. “Saturday. Anytime after three and we’ll fire the grills at five.”

  “Thank you, Aunt Mary.”

  “I’ll keep my mouth shut and play along, but if she asks me outright if you two are up to no good, I won’t lie.”

  He couldn’t see why Cat would ask a question like that. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

  “Go before I change my mind.”

  He went, Joe on his heels, and didn’t stop until he was safely in the driveway. “Your mother can be a scary lady sometimes.”

  Joe leaned against the fender. “How the hell did you talk her into it?”

  “I told her I’d have to stay away—claim we had a falling out—if she didn’t.”

  “Ouch. But I hope you realize Ma was the easy part.”