Maurie opened her eyes, and the first thing she realized was that she wasn’t in her bed in her small house. She was ... Oh no.
She sat up, blinking against the dimness of the room. And then she remembered. She and Grant had been watching a movie ... She looked around the living room to see that the television was off. Someone had covered her with a blanket. Her cell phone was on the coffee table, and she picked it up. 6:00 a.m.
She must have fallen asleep during the movie, and Grant hadn’t woken her up, but let her sleep on the couch.
There was a text from Taffy sent about midnight. Won’t wait up for you. Hope you’re having fun. Wink. Wink.
Maurie should probably text her back, but Taffy knew she was with Grant and his sick kid, for heaven’s sake. Despite herself, Maurie smiled. Then she yawned. The house was completely silent. Was Grant still asleep—in his bedroom, she assumed? Was Trent still sleeping? Had he awakened feeling sick, and she slept right through everything?
She didn’t have her car so unless she called Taffy, she was stuck here until Grant woke up. Moving off the couch, she stretched her sore neck. She wondered what time she’d fallen asleep, and how Grant had managed to move without waking her up.
She found the bathroom, then went into the kitchen to get a drink of water. An inspection of the fridge revealed why Grant loved her baking so much. He had a few basics, but that was it. Nothing much in the pantry either, so baking was out of the question.
With Trent’s sore throat, he’d want something soft anyway, so she elected to make scrambled eggs. She hoped the kid liked eggs. Trying to keep as quiet as possible, she found a frying pan that looked barely used, then whisked the eggs together and grated a block of cheese. She almost laughed aloud when she found salt and pepper packets. Grant didn’t even have his own shakers. The man needed a trip to Walmart.
She didn’t expect to find placemats, which she didn’t, but was surprised he had a healthy stack of napkins in one of the cupboards.
The eggs were simmering nicely when a voice spoke from the hallway. “Are you making pudding?”
Maurie turned to see Trent. His face was flushed from sleep, and one side of his brown hair stuck up. His blue eyes were so much like Grant’s that Maurie agreed there was no way Trent was someone other than Grant’s son.
“I’m making scrambled eggs,” Maurie said. “Do you like them?”
Trent gave a solemn nod.
“Well then, come on and have a seat.” She patted the back of one of the chairs.
He gave her the smallest smile, then climbed on the chair. He stayed kneeling so that his belly was even with the top of the table.
“Daddy’s still sleeping,” Trent said, his blue eyes following every movement of Maurie’s.
“Did you check on him?” she asked.
“Yeah, he’s sleeping in my bed.” Trent laughed. “It’s funny. I told him he was too big, but he said that he wanted to be with me.”
Maurie nodded. Grant sharing a twin-sized bed with his son was funny, but endearing too.
“Because I’m sick.”
“You are sick,” Maurie said, holding back a smile. “Does your throat still hurt?”
He pressed his fingers to his throat and visibly swallowed. Maurie didn’t miss the wince.
“It’s scratched,” he said.
She didn’t correct him like his mother had. “Do you want a drink?” Maurie asked, moving to fetch a glass.
Trent took the glass and drank at least half of it. “I was thirsty.”
Maurie couldn’t help but laugh. She wasn’t around kids a lot, and never one on one. It was adorable how he blurted things out.
“Are you going to make pudding after this?” Trent asked, poking his finger in his water.
Should she tell him to stop? “Your dad doesn’t have all the ingredients for pudding, so I have to go back to my place and make it.”
Now Trent had his entire fist in the water glass.
“Careful, it might spill,” Maurie said.
Trent sighed. “That’s what my mom says.”
Maurie bit her lip to keep from laughing. Trent proceeded to take his hand out of the water, then he wiped his wet hand on the front of his long-sleeved T-shirt he’d been wearing when they’d picked him up last night.
Maurie scooped the scrambled eggs into three bowls. More for the bowl she’d give to Grant. There wasn’t any bread to make toast, so this would be a single-course meal. “Do you want salt and pepper?” Maurie asked as she ripped open one of the packets.
“Mommy says Stone can’t have salt,” Trent said.
Maurie nodded. “What about you? Can you have salt?”
Trent shrugged his small shoulders. “I dunno.”
“How about I put a little bit on,” Maurie said. “Then once you eat, you can have your medicine.”
“For my scratched throat?” Trent pushed on his throat again.
“Yep.” Maurie set the bowls on the table, along with the spoons. Then she sat by Trent.
“Look at the smoke,” Trent said, pointing at the steam.
Maurie smiled. “The eggs are hot. Do you want to blow on them?”
“Okay,” Trent said in a cheerful tone. And he did just that.
“I think you can take a bite now,” Maurie said after he continued blowing.
They finished their eggs, and Maurie was glad that Trent seemed to like them. “Hey,” she said in a quiet voice. “I’ll go see if your dad’s still asleep. Be right back, okay?”
“Okay,” Trent said in a glum voice, which gave Maurie pause.
“Do you want to help me?” she asked.
His face immediately brightened.
“We have to be really quiet though,” she said.
“Like mouses? I can walk like mouses.”
“Yes, like mice.” Maurie smiled as Trent climbed off the chair, then walked on his toes down the hall. The sun had risen, so there was enough light coming in through the living room, and she didn’t have to turn on the hall light. She followed Trent, knowing that at any minute, they might make enough noise to alert Grant.
But when she pushed the bedroom door open, Grant was spread out on the twin bed, sound asleep. He was on his back, one arm behind his head, and ... he wasn’t wearing a shirt.
Maurie didn’t move for a moment. Who in the world didn’t sleep with a shirt on in the middle of winter? Apparently Grant Shelton didn’t. At least he was wearing running shorts and not just boxers or something.
And watching him sleep without the aforementioned shirt made her cheeks heat. She already knew his shoulders were broad and that he was in good shape from manual labor. But she found herself scanning the length of his torso and his perfectly carved muscles. She instinctively knew that his chest and stomach would be solid, yet warm and soft to the touch.
Maurie swallowed. She should really stop ogling him, back out, and shut the door. Instead, she watched the steady rise and fall of Grant’s chest as he breathed. Only the worry of Trent waking his sleeping dad brought Maurie back to her senses sooner than later.
“He’s still sleeping,” Trent said in a rather loud whisper.
“We should go out,” Maurie whispered back, holding out her hand.
Trent took it, and they stepped into the hall.
Maurie pulled the door almost closed without letting it click shut.
Trent’s hand was warm and a little sweaty. When they reached the kitchen, Maurie bent to feel his forehead.
“Are you hot?” she asked.
Trent shrugged. “I dunno.”
“Well, since your daddy’s sleeping, I’ll give you your medicine.” Maurie wished she’d had more experience with little kids, but how hard could it be to give medicine to a kid? She pulled the medicine of pink liquid out of the fridge. The instructions were on the bottle, of course, and Grant had left the dropper on the counter.
Maurie measured out the medicine. “Okay, ready?”
Trent opened his mouth and closed his eyes.
Well, that was easy. Maurie squirted the medicine in his mouth. “Swallow.”
He did.
“Good job,” she said. “We’ll be sure to tell your dad that you had your first dose.”
She eyed the ibuprofen on the counter. “Does your mom give you two medicines at once?”
Trent nodded. “The purple one too. Mommy says it’s for my femur.”
It took Maurie a second to decipher. “Your fever?”
“That’s what I said.”
Maurie pulled out her phone from her pocket and googled: can you take ibuprofen with amoxicillin. Apparently you could unless you were into all-natural healing. She picked up the bottle and read the dosage chart. “You’re four?” she asked Trent.
“Almost five.”
“Okay,” Maurie said. “How much do you weigh?”
“Fifty-hundred.”
Maurie blinked. “Um. Let’s go see if your dad has a scale in the bathroom.”
So Trent went with her to the bathroom, and thankfully there was a scale on the floor. “Forty-six pounds,” Maurie said. “You’re growing up.”
She measured out the right amount of the liquid ibuprofen, then Trent swallowed that down too.
Now what?
“Do you want to read or play games?”
Trent yawned. “I’m tired.”
Maurie ruffled his hair. She wasn’t sure where that gesture of affection had come from. “I’m sure you are. Maybe we can find something to watch on TV?”
“I can only watch kid shows,” Trent pronounced.
Maurie smiled. “Kid shows it is. Come on.”
Trent put his hand in hers, which made her heart soar for some reason.
They walked into the living room, and Maurie settled Trent onto the couch with the blanket she’d had earlier. She turned on the TV at low volume and clicked through channels until Trent told her to stop at a SpongeBob cartoon.
Not her favorite, but Maurie didn’t want to abandon Trent on the couch. So she sat by him, and almost instantly, he snuggled against her. Maurie’s heart melted a little more. This kid was adorable, and she wasn’t even related to him. She wrapped her arm around him and became caught up in the current adventure of SpongeBob.
She started to feel tired and closed her eyes for a moment. She wasn’t sure what had woken her up, but when she next opened her eyes, Trent had fallen asleep. Something in the kitchen clinked, and she looked over to see Grant leaning against the counter, eating the bowl of scrambled eggs.
He smiled when their gazes connected.
And ... he was still shirtless. Maurie’s face went hot.
“Good morning,” he said in that rumbling voice of his.
“Good morning.” She looked down at Trent. “He ate, and I gave him his medicine. I guess he was still tired.”
“Thanks for making eggs,” Grant said. “I was starving.”
Maurie’s face was still hot. Because she couldn’t quite look away from his bare torso. He put the bowl in the sink, then he filled a glass with water from the tap. She watched as he drank down the entire glass. She was still watching when he turned to catch her staring at him.
She was totally blushing. Surely he noticed.
And now he was walking toward her.
Maurie could only watch him because she was pretty much stuck in one position with a kid sleeping on her.
“Do you want me to move him?” Grant asked in a soft voice, looking from her to Trent.
“No, he’s okay.” She swallowed as Grant sat next to her on the couch. He smelled warm and musky. “Besides, I want to see if Mr. Krabs makes it to the party.”
Grant chuckled softly. “I think I remember this episode.”
“Don’t give away the ending.”
Grant linked their hands together, his fingers warm against hers. “I wouldn’t dare.”
Maurie exhaled as she tried to tamp down the heat rushing through her. Sitting on the couch in the early morning, with Grant on one side of her and his sleeping son nestled against her on the other side, created emotions she couldn’t identify. She’d had a boyfriend before, but she’d never felt so ... safe? At home?
Her home life had never been like this. Quiet, simple, warm.
Was this what it was like? Being surrounded by goodness and caring? Maybe even love?
Her eyes stung, and she blinked back any threatening tears. She really should focus on Mr. Krabs’s mission.
“Thanks for all this,” Grant said, his thumb caressing the back of her hand. “I didn’t mean for you to be an early-morning babysitter.”
Maurie smiled, although her heart and pulse were doing crazy things. She felt like laughing and crying at the same time. “Well, I didn’t mean to fall asleep on your couch. So thanks for the blanket.”
Grant smiled and then he was leaning toward her.
She let her eyes drift shut just before Grant kissed her. It was tender, soft, and warm. And oh, so sweet. He drew away but lingered, and she knew if Trent wasn’t in the same room, she would probably explore just what his chest felt like.
When Grant kissed her a second time, equally soft, she was the one who drew back first. “Um, can you put on a shirt?”
His blue eyes crinkled at the corners. “Is there a problem?”
“Yes, you without a shirt.”
He grinned, then rose to his feet. “I should probably take a shower too. Are you okay for a few minutes with Trent?”
“Of course,” she said. “Now, shoo.”