Wicked in Winter

by Jennifer Bernard

  “It’s the only place they won’t hear us.”

  “Yes, that’s a good quality in a bedroom.” Another wink, this one even more naughty and exaggerated.

  “Stop that.” He ground his teeth together. “I’m trying for a serious conversation here.”

  “All of your conversations seem pretty serious to me. Do you ever just sit around and shoot the shit?”

  He dragged a hand through his hair. “Not very often, no. Back to my point.” He paused, trying to bring his point back into focus. Hair. It had to do with hair. And hers was the color of firelight in a glass of Cabernet right now.

  “Hair dye,” he ground out. “Don’t encourage Petey to dye his hair. I won’t allow it and you’re just going to get him upset.”

  “Why won’t you allow it? It’s seriously so common these days. At my old school in Connecticut half the kids—”

  “I don’t care. We live here, and I’m responsible for Petey, and I say no to the hair dye.” The truth was, he didn’t know this new caseworker and he didn’t want anything to look out of the ordinary when she showed up for the home visit. But he didn’t know Gretel well enough to tell her that. He didn’t trust her not to blab it all over town during a shift at the Wicked Brew.

  “You’re being very narrow-minded.”

  “Okay.”

  She drew in a long breath, as if trying to keep her cool. “Petey is very imaginative, he needs to express himself. I can relate to that. I was the same way when I was growing up. Obviously, I still am.” She gestured at her outfit, which featured a blend of colors and layers that was uniquely Gretel. “I don’t think it’s fair that girls can have fun with their appearance but boys can’t.”

  “Life isn’t fair, is that big news?”

  If life was fair, he would still be in the Marines. Or maybe he’d be doing something else. Sometimes he forgot the other dreams he’d had before enlisting.

  “No. I know life isn’t fair.”

  “Yeah? Did you figure that out when you were on a cruise or at a five-star restaurant?”

  She drew in a sharp breath, and color flushed across her cheeks.

  Fuck, he’d gone too far. He’d let his temper get away from him. He knew better than that. “Sorry,” he muttered.

  “No. Let it out. You think I’m just a spoiled rich girl who doesn’t understand reality.”

  He didn’t answer, since part of him did think that, but he didn’t want to add fuel to the fire.

  “Come on. Express yourself, Zander. I can take it.”

  She was goading him, he knew that. But Zander had all those years of military service under his belt, not to mention three years of playing single dad to his brothers. He wasn’t about to let a barely five-foot tall Lower Forty-eight princess make him lose his cool.

  “No hair dye,” he said firmly, fixing her with a steady stare to emphasize his point.

  Her nostrils flared, and he remembered what she’d said about taking orders—or not taking them. “If you’re too strict with them they’re going to rebel. That’s like, a universal law of parenting.”

  “I’ll take my chances.”

  “It’s not just your chances,” she cried. “What about your brothers? This is about Petey, not you.”

  She was persistent, he’d give her that.

  “You’re right. It’s about Petey and the fact that you are not going to dye his hair.”

  “But…name one good reason—”

  He interrupted. “Why are you so worried about his hair? Maybe this is about you, not Petey.”

  Her mouth dropped open, making him notice the pretty color of her lips. Not that he hadn’t noticed before. He’d tried hard not to notice. But here in the close quarters of his bedroom, with his bed lurking right behind her, it was impossible to ignore their lovely curved shape and imagine their flower-petal taste.

  She snapped her mouth shut; maybe she’d caught him looking at her lips. He dragged his gaze away and resorted to his best chain-of-command expression. “Since you aren’t saying anything more, I’m going to assume we’re done here.”

  She lifted her chin and stalked past him. “Oh, we’re definitely done here.”

  And just like that, she took command of the moment. “And to think, there are so many other and better things you could have dragged me to your bedroom for. Oh well. I guess you’ll never know.”

  He followed her out of the room. He might never know, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t use his imagination. He probably would. Later that night, right there in that bed.

  Chapter Six

  When all the pizza had been gobbled up—and ice cream sundaes served—Gretel called on all her newly acquired maturity and offered to do the dishes.

  She was still fuming over the way Zander had shut her out.

  On the one hand, he was right that it was his call. She was just a random neighbor.

  On the other hand, she hated to see young boys forced to fit into a box that might not suit them. Petey reminded her of one of her boyfriends in high school. A few years ago, he’d transitioned to a she, and their entire rocky relationship suddenly made sense.

  But it wasn’t her business. Point taken, Zander Ross. Ross the Boss.

  “That’s okay, we got it.” Zander gave one of his piercing whistles. Jason, rolling his eyes, dragged himself over to the kitchen. Petey darted ahead of him and grabbed a dishtowel from a drawer.

  As the rest of them watched, the three Rosses swung into the most amazing dishwashing drill Gretel had ever seen—or imagined. It was one step away from ballet, the way they operated in perfect coordination and timing. Zander scrubbed a dish, handed it to Jason, who rinsed it and handed it to Petey, who dried it and put it away. Partway through, Zander called, “Switch,” and they all changed places so that Petey washed, Zander rinsed and Jason dried.

  Abby laughed until tears came to her eyes. Gretel hoped she wasn’t stretching her stitches, but maybe it was good for her to be so entertained.

  When all the dishes were done, Zander had possession of the dishtowel. He tossed it long to Jason, who was jogging the length of the kitchen toward a laundry hamper against the wall. He caught it just in time for Petey to slide in and lift the top off. Jason slam-dunked the towel into the hamper and Petey plopped the top back on.

  “Time?” Jason asked.

  Zander was checking his phone. “Fifth best. Not bad. Good job. One hour before bedtime, Petey. Use it wisely.”

  With a grin, he ambled back to the table. Both of the toddlers, Iris and India, were sound asleep, curled-up with their heads on Gretel’s lap. Eli was yawning from the aftermath of the sugar rush. Abby wiped tears of laughter off her cheeks.

  “That was really something, Zander.”

  “It’s one of our favorite drills. Breakfast is pretty good too.”

  “I’d love to see that sometime. We go for the barely controlled chaos technique. Gretel can tell you.”

  Gretel whispered so as not to wake up the little ones. “Sorry, did you say controlled? Did I hear that right?”

  Abby and Zander both laughed.

  “Need a hand getting all these kids into your rig?” he offered.

  “That’d be great,” Abby said, before Gretel could answer. She would have loved to tell Zander to back off, that she could handle it. But that would be ridiculous.

  He leaned over and gently pried Iris’ curled up hand off Gretel’s sweater. She inhaled the scent of dish soap and wood smoke as his head came close to hers. The skin of his neck looked almost vulnerable at that angle. There was a whorl of hair at the back of his neck; almost a cowlick. She wondered if he knew about it, or if he cared.

  His big hands enveloped Iris and he lifted her away from Gretel. He draped her over his chest, her head snuggling into the crook of his neck.

  Gretel’s heart did the funniest little skip and jump at the sight of such a big guy cradling the tiny human that was Iris.

  Abby handed him Iris’ coat and Zander draped it over her. Gr
oovy hauled herself to her feet and prepared to follow them out.

  “Hand me the keys, I’ll get the rig started,” he told Gretel. Ordered her, practically.

  Still, a warmed-up car was better than an icy one. She gave him the keys without comment and he disappeared with Iris. Abby roused Eli while Gretel managed to stand up without waking India. She settled her gently against her shoulder.

  Gretel popped her head into the boys’ room to say goodbye, and found them both reading on their stomachs on their twin beds. They weren’t ordinary beds, she noticed. They looked handcrafted, and each of them had an animal carved into the headboard. Jason’s was a wolf and Petey’s was a raven.

  “Goodnight, guys,” she said softly. “It was fun hanging out with you.”

  “Night, Gretel.” Petey lifted his head and gave her a wistful smile. “Maybe you can dye my hair when I’m sixteen.”

  “It’s a date.”

  Still smiling, she carried her bundle of toddler through the steamy arctic entry and into the starlit night. The cold bit at her exposed cheeks. The snow crunched under her snow boots as she picked her way toward the Noonans’ Tahoe. A rising spiral of exhaust rose from the tailpipe—lazily, as if fighting the weight of the cold air. She tilted her head to take in the brilliance of the stars against the profound darkness.

  The night sky was like a never-ending show that didn’t care whether or not anyone was paying attention. How many people were going about their business—eating out, sleeping, watching TV, partying, dancing—with no idea that such an incredible drama was playing out in the sky above their heads?

  She’d never given the sky much thought before coming to Lost Harbor, except for a quick glance now and then. But then again, there were so many things she hadn’t thought about. Like how the feel of a sleeping toddler in your arms could make your heart ache with happiness. Or the way a man’s attention to things like buckling up a car seat could make him even more attractive.

  “Thanks,” she told Zander after he’d gotten both the toddlers buckled in.

  “No problem. Happy to help.”

  He emphasized that last word, help.

  Okay then. Game back on. “Funny thing. I was thinking about leaving Alaska until you got them into their carseats,” she murmured, so only he could hear. “Better start writing your Bush Lines speech.”

  He gave a burst of laughter, causing Abby to poke her head from the passenger seat with an expression of surprise. “You sounded like a little kid for sec there, Zander.”

  “I guarantee I’m not a little kid,” he murmured in Gretel’s ear.

  She couldn’t think of a PG-rated response to that, so she let him have that one.

  The new caseworker, Susan Baker, showed up a few days later. She surprised Zander while he was in his workshop, which was never a good thing. He was in the middle of setting two freshly glued pieces of an old toboggan together. The glue was a fast-acting adhesive that left him only seconds to make sure everything was properly aligned.

  Her knock at the door made him jump and smear glue across his work pants.

  “Damn it,” he exclaimed before he could even see who was there. “Hang on,” he called to the visitor. Quickly he adjusted the two pieces into their proper position and set a clamp to hold them together.

  He didn’t worry about his work pants, since they were already covered with paint stains, pitch stains, plaster stains, and who knew what else.

  He got to his feet and stretched his back, then opened the door to the stranger. She was a Native Alaskan woman, maybe around fifty, and she did not look pleased.

  “I’ve been calling, didn’t you get my messages?”

  “No, sorry. Service is terrible out here. Who are you?”

  “I’m Susan Baker from the Office of Children’s Services. I assume you got the notification that I was coming?” She spoke in a blunt manner that reminded him of his platoon leader.

  “Susan—Of course. Susan Baker. Nice to meet you.” He rubbed his hands on his work pants and offered one. She declined.

  “I have allergies,” she told him. “Toxic substances, having my calls ignored, that sort of thing.”

  “I wasn’t ignoring you. Did you try the landline?”

  “I tried all the numbers in your file.” She sniffed at the air. “What is that smell?”

  “It’s how I make money to support the family.” He spoke more sharply than he’d intended, and she reacted immediately by narrowing her eyes.

  “Tell me about that. Is it a struggle for you, being sole caretaker and sole money-earner?”

  Oh no. If he had to have that conversation, he didn’t want to be ambushed with it.

  He gestured toward the door. “Why don’t we go into the house and I’ll get you some coffee?”

  “I’m allergic to coffee.”

  “Maybe some tea?”

  Did he even have any tea? Luckily, she shook her head. “I take care of my own beverages.”

  “That’s smart.” He ushered her out the door and they crossed the snowy yard to the side entrance of the house. Niko was out on a perimeter check, so at least he didn’t have a dog to deal with.

  “Why do you find that smart?”

  Wow, this woman was sharp as a razor knife. She didn’t miss a thing. By the time they reached the living room, he knew she’d catalogued every single dirty dish and balled up sock that had escaped the laundry hamper.

  He hurried to put the sock back where it belonged. “It’s usually much tidier than this, but Jason had an early ski practice and—”

  She waved him off. “It’s quite clean. I’m impressed.”

  The relief hit him like a blow to the chest. He felt his entire body relax. “We try,” he managed. “The boys are a big help in that respect. I’m teaching them to hold up their end. Our parents always emphasized self-reliance.”

  She looked around one more time, then gestured to the worktable, which was still littered with the makings of a Lego fighter space station Petey had been working on.

  “Can we sit?”

  “Yeah, of course.” He snagged the letter from the OCS and brought it with him. When he reached the table, she’d already opened up a binder and had a pen in hand.

  Feeling outmatched in every way, he sat down across from her.

  “So you’ve been taking care of Jason and Petey for three years now?”

  “Yes. Since our parents passed.”

  “You were named as the guardian?”

  His stomach tightened. “No, not technically. Their death was sudden and they hadn’t named anyone specifically. I was the logical choice and I wanted to do it. I wanted them to be able to stay here in Alaska and stay together.”

  “And you left your military career to do it?”

  “Yes. The Marines are all about duty. You don’t get to choose what that duty is. Mine was clear.”

  She made a note on a page in her binder. He craned his neck to see what she was writing, but couldn’t make out her handwriting.

  “So you saw it—see it—as your duty to come back to Lost Harbor.”

  Wait, that didn’t sound right. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t want to. I love this place and I love my brothers.”

  “That’s lovely. It’s also not entirely the point. What is it that you feel you offer the boys?”

  “Stability. Consistency. Family.”

  “And you’re sure that’s everything they need?”

  Ice curdled in his veins. “What does that mean? Food, education, friends, of course they have what they need. Is something missing?”

  She made another note.

  “Is there a problem? If there is, I don’t know about it and I deserve to. You can’t just come in here and ask weird questions that sound like accusations.”

  “No accusations, Mr. Ross. You misunderstand. My job is to make sure the best interests of the minor children are being served. That should be your job too.”

  “It is. Of course it is. What—”

  “W
hat about your personal life?”

  “Excuse me?” He sat back in his chair and heard it squeak.

  “You’re a young, single man. I assume you have girlfriends. How do you handle that with your brothers?”

  “Well, I…I…” Think of something that makes me look good. “I try to set a good example. Serious relationships only.”

  She raised an eyebrow, expressing all kinds of skepticism. “Are you in one now?”

  Could a flirtation with the girl next door count? He swiped the back of his hand across his forehead, where a layer of sweat had gathered. “I suppose you could say that.”

  He braced himself for a request for more details, but she moved on.

  “What if I were to tell you that another situation might be an option for Jason?”

  “What situation?” He shifted position again. By now he was so agitated that one chair leg cracked under the pressure. Great, another chair to repair. “What are you talking about?”

  “Calm down, Mr. Ross. Please. There’s no need to overreact. You are the boys’ guardian until further notice, and nothing will change without you being part of that discussion.”

  Zander felt as if his head was about to explode. “I don’t understand any of this. It’s coming out of nowhere. Jason and Petey belong here, with me. Together. All of us. You’re talking about Jason going somewhere else? The hell—I mean, no way.”

  “You really shouldn’t worry so much.” She made another note in her goddamn binder, then snapped it closed. “Please answer your phone in the future.”

  “I—” Fighting to stop the panic, he scrubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “I’ll do my best.”

  She rose to her feet and gave him a nod. “My assessment says that you’re a caring surrogate father making the best of a difficult situation. Good for you.”

  He followed suit and came to his feet. “Thank you. Does that mean—”

  She held up a hand. “Take the praise. Let’s leave it at that.”

  Holy Jesus, this woman was unlike any caseworker he’d ever dealt with. “Yes, ma’am.”

  After she left, he returned to the chair and stared down at it. Then kicked it.