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own childhood being apologized for and feeling in the way, he liked families who embraced the chaos rather than trying to hide it. It was how he would have raised his own kids, if he’d ever been inclined to have them.
    Grace swept a final pile of books up from the couch and waved to Sean to take a seat. He eased himself down, crutches in one hand, other hand braced against the couch’s arm. Then, teeth on edge, he struggled to lift his casted leg up onto the coffee table. Grace plopped the books she held onto a nearby shelf.
    “Here,” she said. “Let me help.”
    She lifted his injured leg gently, seeming to know any quick movement would exacerbate matters, and settled his foot where he’d been aiming for. “Is that all right?”
    “Better. Thanks.”
    “Let me guess. Your painkillers are in the cottage, too.”
    “I just need a few minutes with it up.” He laid his head back against the cushions and put his other foot up to join the first. “I’ll be fine.”
    “Sure you will,” she said. “All right. Give me five minutes to tuck the girls in, then I’ll be back.”
    “You don’t have to—”
    She cut him off with a raised eyebrow and pointed look at his pine needle- and dirt-encrusted foot. “Unless you have a way of washing that foot before you put it on any more of my furniture, yes, I do have to.”
    Without a word, Sean lowered the offending foot and placed it on the floor as she disappeared down the hallway behind him. Then he rested his head against the couch again.
    Strawberry-scented, chocolate-eyed Aunt Grace might not be Mommy, but she sure played the role well.
    ………………
    Getting the kids settled required a great deal more than the five minutes she’d promised, but at last Grace headed back toward the living room and their guest, bedding in her arms, pill bottle clutched in one hand, towel and dampened washcloth in the other. Sean McKittrick hadn’t moved in her absence except to close his eyes, and she hesitated at the edge of the room.
    Had he gone to sleep? Should she wake him just to get him—?
    Bottle-green eyes snapped open to meet hers, turning unexpectedly warm, stealing her breath for an instant. Then they shuttered again.
    “I thought you might have changed your mind,” he said.
    Grace loosened her grip on the pill bottle and made herself hand it over. “I was looking for these. They’re the strongest thing I have.”
    Sean glanced at the label. “Codeine. Pretty heavy-duty.”
    “I get migraines sometimes. I’d put them away where the kids couldn’t find them, then forgot where that was. I’m sharing my room with Annabelle, so I had to be quiet while I searched.”
    “I’d like to say you shouldn’t have bothered, but I’m glad you did.” He grimaced and tipped three of the tablets into his palm. “Things are starting to get a little dicey pain-wise.”
    “Are you sure you should take that many at a time?”
    The green eyes met hers again. “I’m sure.”
    “I’ll get you some wat—” She paused as he put the tablets in his mouth, tipped his head back, and swallowed. “Or not.”
    “Maybe just a cloth so I can clean up my foot?”
    Grace set the blankets and pillow on the couch beside him, and held up the cleaning supplies she’d brought. She sat on the coffee table beside his casted leg. “Can you lift it up by yourself, or do you need help?”
    Silence. She looked up to find Sean staring at her.
    “I’m not letting you wash my foot,” he said. “That’s just…”
    “Logical?” she suggested dryly. She reached down, grabbed his pant leg, and hauled up his leg to rest in her lap. Many of the pine needles that had decorated it had already fallen to the floor, so she brushed the others off to join them and made a mental note to sweep in the morning. Preferably before Annabelle got around to tasting them.
    She glanced up at Sean. He wore a perplexed, somewhat horrified expression that made her smile. “Relax, would you? It’s not like