Her Unexpected Family. Ruth Herne Logan

but you’ve got messages from the mayor, the police chief and the county sheriff’s office wondering what happened.”

      Shame bit deep.

      He never goofed up a job. He double-checked everything to the point of being absurd, but this time he’d messed up. He didn’t want to ask this next question, but he had to and the onus was all on him. “Any accidents?”

      “None reported.”

      He breathed a sigh of relief.

      “Hank called the guys in stat and they hit the road by five thirty, just enough time for most everything to melt before things got too busy.”

      Dolly squawked at the inactivity. To Dolly, being in the car meant the car should be moving. Sitting at the edge of the road didn’t win the toddler’s favor. “I’ll drop the kids off and be right there.”

      “See you then, boss.”

      Guilt grabbed hold tight.

      He’d created a dangerous situation today. People could have been hurt, and all because he was tired and dozed off without following up.

      Nothing happened, and you’ll know better next time. Everyone makes mistakes, Grant.

      His mother’s words came back to him, but Grant hated mistakes. He took pride in his work, and in the work of his people.

      He called the sheriff, the mayor and saved Drew Slade for last. “Drew, it’s Grant. I’m calling to apologize. My dispatch never got sent and I didn’t realize it. This is totally on me.”

      “I blame the napoleons,” Drew replied. “And wedding planning. And staying up too late talking to pretty girls. I appreciate the call. We’re good. But you got home early comparatively, whereas I actually was up late, talking to a pretty girl.”

      Grant peeked into the rearview mirror. Dolly was rolling something around between her fingers, and appeared fascinated by it. He didn’t need to know the object’s origin; he was just glad to have her quiet for the moment. “Me, too. Mine is two years old with uneven pigtails.”

      “I remember those days,” Drew sympathized. “I raised Amy on my own for eight years, so I hear you. It’s tough, and you’ve got twice the workload and they’re at a crazy age. It’ll get better in about two years, but that’s faint comfort now.”

      It sure was, because how was Grant going to manage those two years if he could barely manage today? He circled around the white clapboard church on Maple and pulled into the day care parking lot. “Gotta go.”

      “Me, too.”

      He removed Dolly from her seat first because Tim had the patience to wait the extra thirty seconds. When he set Dolly down to unfasten a stubborn buckle on Tim’s seat, she yelled in anger and stomped her feet.

      He stared at her.

      She stomped them again, one after the other, angry and demanding.

      Dolly’s repeated action brought Emily’s words to life. Walking’s always good.

      If Dolly could stomp her feet back and forth, then she could walk. That made him look at her more carefully.

      He scooped Dolly up and took Timmy’s hand, to guide him up the walk. Mrs. Flanagan was waiting for them inside the door. She gave the kids a warm greeting, then settled Dolly on her hip. Grant kissed her goodbye. She flailed and yelled, reaching for him, sobbing...

      “Remember what I said.” Mary offered him a wise look. “She’s fine five minutes after you walk out that door. Sometimes less than that, Grant.”

      He’d always doubted that before, figuring it was Mary’s way of trying to ease the separation.

      But right now, he had a deeper confidence that Mary was truly right.

      His beautiful, charming and challenged daughter was a brat.

      Now what was he going to do about it?

      * * *

      Emily spotted Grant inside the bakery, talking to Gabby and her daughter Rachel. Rachel burst out laughing at something Grant said, and when she did, she laid her hand on his sleeve...

      Emily had the sudden urge to march across that room and push that hand away from Grant’s water-resistant jacket.

      She didn’t, of course, but she wanted to, which meant the tall, brown-haired, hassled single father had gotten beneath her defenses. Based on her instantaneous reaction, she needed more than a mental list to keep the attraction at bay. She’d write a physical list that evening and post it on her mirror so she’d have a firm visual of why she should shy away from tall, handsome, rugged guys who had issues with her past.

      “Emily.” Gabby waved her in, excited, and Rachel met her halfway.

      “We’ve got some amazing things for you guys to taste, Em. And I am all over that coat!” Rachel admired the waist-length bolero-style jacket with a sigh. “I can’t afford it, but I’m more than slightly envious.”

      “It’s a leftover from my buyer days,” Emily told her, then slipped the short coat off and handed it over. “Try it—see what you think.”

      Rachel looked mortified. “No, I couldn’t, I shouldn’t have said anything. Mom will kill me for embarrassing her. And myself,” she admitted, sheepishly.

      “Rach, the one thing I walked away from Barrister’s with was way too many clothes, and it’s silly not to share. We’re the same size. You should come over tomorrow and go through my closets. Noon, my house, bring doughnuts.”

      Gabby cleared her throat, which meant they should get busy, and she was right. Emily reached out to shake Grant’s hand. “Hey, you got here early. The lure of cake, right? It does that to me all the time.”

      * * *

      He’d like to say it was just the sweets that brought him to Gabby’s ten minutes before their meeting time, but he’d be lying. He shook her hand, smiled and found himself in a fine mess because now that he had her hand, he really didn’t want to let go.