Page 43 of Marrying the Nanny

“Can I throw some gravel in it later and we’ll call it square?”

“I could probably throw the gravel in it myself if I wasn’t such a sexist.”

He smirked, pleased they were stepping back onto solid ground. The tightness that had begun winding itself through his chest from the moment Trystan had said She ran away from home eased up.

As they walked into the carport, the sound of crying seemed really close and loud.

The door from the house flung open. Logan stood there with a screaming Storm in his arms, tension pulling around his eyes.

“Help me.”

“Emma called you an ignorant sexist. You’re going to have to beg,” Reid said.

“I’ll wear a blue P for ‘chauvinistic pig.’ Now help me. Pretty please. She’s dry, she’s fed. I put gel on her gums. She won’t stop screaming.”

“Poor wee thing. Come here.” She took Storm, touched her forehead and the back of her neck. She was sweaty from crying, not feverish. “What’s wrong, bub?”

Storm’s tone changed immediately, weakening like a wind that blew itself out with a final gust.

Reid helped Emma remove her jacket while Storm curled her fist into Emma’s collar and settled into shaky, broken breaths as she rested her head on Emma’s shoulder. She pushed her fist against her mouth and stared at Logan with an expression that Reid could swear consigned him to the deepest corner of hell.

“What did you do?” Logan asked with perplexed accusation.

“I don’t know.” She rubbed Storm’s back and kissed her hair.

As Reid studied Storm’s wet eyes, he made an uncharacteristic leap of understanding. “You came back. She missed you.”

*

More than a full week of rotations went by fairly smoothly. Harpreet checked in and was pleased to hear the men were making a sincere effort.

They’d fallen into a loose routine where Emma took on a lot of the day-to-day chores while the men either went to work or banged around the house, hammering and pulling up carpet, prepping and painting between diaper changes and feedings. Emma put dinner on the table at six because it was the hand-off hour for Storm. At least two of the brothers were guaranteed to eat with her.

Tonight, by some small miracle, all three turned up, not that they included her much. Conversation centered around the ongoing work.

“I’m sending a crew up tomorrow to replace all the windows,” Reid announced as they passed mashed potatoes and ham around the table. “Tiffany ordered them with the ones for the lodge. They’re custom-sized and can’t be returned.”

“You couldn’t have figured that out before we got the kitchen painted?” Logan sent the peas to Trystan without taking any.

“Casings are pretty beat up and seals are shot. It needs to be done,” Trystan said.

“Get them to switch out the light fixtures in the kitchen,” Logan said, scraping a tiny spoon through a shallow dish of cereal before setting it against Storm’s mouth. “I have nothing but fires to put out at the marina or I’d have it done it myself by now.”

“They’re carpenters. They won’t touch it, and the electrician has way too much to do at Ocean View,” Reid countered, asking Trystan, “I thought you were doing it?”

“My hands were full today.” He nodded at Storm, who had a cold and had fussed on and off all day.

“I’ll see if I can get to it later.” Reid took a bite, chewed. “I don’t know what you want to do with the baby tomorrow, though. It’ll be noisy here. Take her to Sophie’s?”

“We could go for a walk,” Emma suggested.

“Yeah?” Trystan perked up.

“Sure. On nice days, I put her in the pram and walk up to the airport. There’s never any traffic.” Air or ground. “The view is pretty once you’re up there.”

Trystan grunted with disappointment and stabbed a chunk of potato. “I thought you meant a hike.”

“Please come by the marina with the pram,” Logan begged.

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