“No. If you’re dying to bathe someone, bathe the kids. That ought to be enough challenge for you.”
“They’ve already had their baths.”
“Really?” He was impressed. Kristin didn’t fight it too hard, if she had plenty of bubbles. But it took an act of Congress to get Sam in the tub.
“Well, Pete helped,” she admitted.
He softened a bit toward Sherry. “Why don’t you run along and see about breakfast? I’ll be there shortly.”
She shrugged. “All right. But before I go, I need to check you over.”
Her words had a profound effect on him—unintended, he was sure. “What’s to check?” he said gruffly. “The leg’s in a cast.”
But he saw by her implacable expression that she wouldn’t take no for an answer. This was one fight he wasn’t going to win. Jeff and Ed had both warned him about the complications that could arise from his injuries, especially his concussion. With a sigh, he allowed her to shine a flashlight in his face to see if his pupils would contract appropriately. She pointed a finger into the air and made him follow it with his eyes.
When she tried to pull the blankets off his cast he resisted—he was otherwise naked. But he finally relented and she was careful to keep the rest of his body modestly covered.
He lay back, closed his eyes and tried not to think about her touching him. She was gentler than any of the nurses at the hospital had been. She checked his toes for swelling and signs of poor circulation. Then she took his temperature to be sure he wasn’t running a fever. He actually found himself enjoying Sherry’s ministrations.
“All done.”
He opened his eyes. She had that brilliant smile on her face again.
“You enjoy your work?” he asked.
“Oh, yes. Yes, I really do. And if there’s anything I can do better, please tell me.”
“There’s just one thing.”
“What?” She blinked her big green eyes at him, eyes that were enhanced with soft brown shadow, dark eyeliner and lashes that were so long and curly they should have been outlawed.
“Do you have to be so relentlessly cheerful?”
The smile drooped. “I’ll try to adopt a more depressing attitude.” And she left.
Jonathan immediately felt guilty, and well he should. What was it about this woman that brought out the absolute worst in him?
Chapter Three
Sherry knocked on Pete’s bedroom door. “Pete? Is there anything I can do to help?”
Jonathan’s grandfather opened the door, his hair sticking out wildly, his eyes reflecting blind panic. “I don’t have any shoes! I bought a new suit for the weddin’, but I forgot about dress shoes!”
“You must have something that would work.”
“All I have is boots. Cowboy boots and work boots, one pair of Hush Puppies and house slippers.”
“Let’s see the boots.”
When Pete showed her into his closet, she saw the problem. All of his boots were brown and his suit was blue. She selected the best-looking pair, brown ostrich skin. “I think I can make these work.”
Pete looked doubtful. “If you say so.”
She patted him on the arm. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Are the kids getting dressed?”
“I laid out their clothes.”
“It’ll take more than that.”
Sherry checked her watch. She still had forty-five minutes before Pete and the kids had to leave for the church. “Sam! Kristin?” No answer. When she checked their rooms, their church clothes were untouched. Those rascals, they were probably hiding, testing her authority over them. She would have to be more stern, she knew. Soon Pete wouldn’t be here to help her manage them.
She’d seen some black shoe polish under the sink. She gave the boots a makeover, then buffed them, bringing the ostrich skin to a shiny black finish. A rancher should get married in cowboy boots, she thought with a grin. She set them on newspaper to dry, then went in search of Jonathan’s children. His breakfast would have to wait.
They weren’t in the house. She stepped outside and called, but no answer. Slightly worried now, she ventured farther from the house, calling their names. “Come on, kids, you have to get dressed for Grandpa Pete’s wedding!”
When they still didn’t answer, she headed for the barn, the most logical place for them to be. When she stepped inside the modern building, she heard childish laughter and sighed with relief. “Kids? Children? Come on, now, it’s time to get dressed for the—” She skidded to a stop when she spotted the children in an empty stall. They both leaned over a huge aquarium that sat on an old picnic table.
And they both did a really good job of ignoring her.
She came closer. “Do I need to clean the wax out of your ears? You don’t want to be late for the wedding, do you?”
Sam finally looked up. “These are our pets, Alexander the Great and Miss Pooh. Here, see?” He reached into the aquarium, picked up something large and before she could react, plopped it on Sherry’s shoulder.
She got a fleeting impression of slimy skin and huge, bulbous eyes, a cold, wet foot, or tentacle, or something touching her neck.
She screamed. The thing, whatever it was, leaped from her shoulder and landed on a hay bale.
“Get him!” Sam shouted. And both children dived for the creature, which Sherry could now see was an enormous bullfrog.
“No, you’ll get dirty!” Sherry objected, ineffectually as it turned out. Both children were crawling around on the filthy stall floor, chasing after the slippery frog.
Finally they corralled the animal and returned it to its habitat. Only then did they turn their attention to Sherry, who was trembling with anger.
If they’d been about to giggle at her reaction to the frog, they stopped when they saw her face.
“Go back up to the house this instant,” she ordered. “Wash your faces and hands, put on your church clothes, then sit in the living room, and don’t move until it’s time to leave for the wedding.”
Sam gulped. “Yes, ma’am.” He scurried away, followed by Kristin, who’d looked as if she were ready to cry.
Great. Jonathan hated her guts and now she’d made enemies of the children. At least Pete liked her.
Or so she thought.
Pete stood in the kitchen, bow tie in hand, staring down at the black boots. “What in tarnation did you do to my ostrich boots?”
“I polished them.”
“You turned them black! Missy, those are seven-hundred-dollar custom-made boots!”
“I don’t understand. Can’t boots be black?”
“But these are supposed to be brown!”
She was at a loss. She’d thought the boots looked much better after her polish job.
Just then, Jonathan hobbled into the kitchen. He wore the same pair of jeans as yesterday, one leg split up the center seam to accommodate his cast, but he’d also put on a starched dress shirt. He’d shaved and combed his wavy brown hair.
Her breathing came in shallow gasps.
“Problem?” he asked.
Sam and Kristin came running