Paulson’s face turned genuine. She looked at Grace with appreciation. The woman must be lonely. “Go ahead, take a shower and get dressed. I’ll watch Liam.”
No way. Bill’s mom might be lonely, but Grace wasn’t about to leave her son with her. “Thanks, but Liam isn’t used to being around people he doesn’t know.”
Mrs. Paulson tsked. “Don’t you worry. Liam will be fine with me. Won’t you?”
“I fine.” He opened the refrigerator for her. “Eggs inside here.”
With her head in the fridge, Mrs. Paulson waved in Grace’s direction. “Go on, now.”
Liam mimicked the gesture. “Go, Mommy.”
Something about the Paulson family made Liam feel comfortable, in a way he’d never been with anyone but her. Grace, on the other hand, felt nothing but tension, a different kind with Bill than with his mother.
Grace didn’t like to be dismissed, especially by her son. Mrs. Paulson approved of Liam, not her. Bill’s mother likely thought she was another one of Bill’s women du jour. But tense run-ins with Damon’s mom had taught Grace not to get huffy. She’d have to earn Mrs. Paulson’s respect with charm, no matter how much it irked.
And she shouldn’t be complaining.
A shower alone would be great. Her second one in as many days. A record.
“Thank you, Mrs. Paulson,” Grace said with a slow Southern smile and sweet drawl she’d learned in Georgia. “I sure do appreciate the help.”
The older woman looked startled. “Why, you’re welcome, Grace. I promise, Liam will be fine. If he needs you, we’ll come get you.”
She nodded, then walked down the hall, thinking. She didn’t know why she’d tried so hard to end their tense meeting with a draw. She and Liam would likely be gone the next time Bill’s mom showed up.
Grace might not understand her behavior, but she knew one thing—no woman would meet Mrs. Paulson’s standards for her son.
Thank goodness Bill didn’t plan on settling down anytime soon. He would need years to find a wife his mom considered to be a “good woman.”
* * *
Bill’s shift flew by, with not a lot of downtime between calls except for a five-hour stretch of sleep. Now it was Wednesday morning. Time to head out.
He wondered how Grace and Liam had fared alone.
Bill hoped they were doing well, stuck in his house for the past twenty-four hours. He hadn’t thought to leave them transportation or his cell number or a key. Most of his houseguests spent the night and were gone the next morning. No one ever stayed longer.
“Paulson.” Thomas had changed into ski clothing—insulated pants and soft shell jacket. Two long braids hung from her pink-and-purple fleece cap. She might be “one of the guys,” but according to Christian she liked girlie things, too. “See you on the hill.”
Bill would swing by home, check on his houseguests, grab his gear and be on his way. “Won’t take me long.”
Fifteen minutes later, he opened his front door.
Christmas carols played. The scents of cinnamon and vanilla filled the air.
He took another sniff. His mouth watered. Whatever was cooking smelled delicious.
He closed the door behind him.
Liam ran from the kitchen-dining area, his arms outstretched and mouth open. He barreled into Bill, hugging him tight. “Big dude is home.”
Warmth pressed down on the center of his chest. No one had ever welcomed him home like this. He lifted Liam into his arms. “How’s it going, bud?”
Liam cuddled and rested his head against Bill’s shoulder. “Going great now.”
A figure-eight-shaped knot formed in Bill’s throat. He tightened his grip on the boy, who squeezed back, his little fingers holding on as if Bill was as important to him as his beloved Peanut.
Unexpected warmth flowed through Bill. This was a different feeling than holding a soft, sweet-smelling woman. Different, but good. He didn’t want to let go of the kid.
Whoa. What was he thinking? Maybe five hours of sleep last night hadn’t been enough.
No way. Bill’s mom might be lonely, but Grace wasn’t about to leave her son with her. “Thanks, but Liam isn’t used to being around people he doesn’t know.”
Mrs. Paulson tsked. “Don’t you worry. Liam will be fine with me. Won’t you?”
“I fine.” He opened the refrigerator for her. “Eggs inside here.”
With her head in the fridge, Mrs. Paulson waved in Grace’s direction. “Go on, now.”
Liam mimicked the gesture. “Go, Mommy.”
Something about the Paulson family made Liam feel comfortable, in a way he’d never been with anyone but her. Grace, on the other hand, felt nothing but tension, a different kind with Bill than with his mother.
Grace didn’t like to be dismissed, especially by her son. Mrs. Paulson approved of Liam, not her. Bill’s mother likely thought she was another one of Bill’s women du jour. But tense run-ins with Damon’s mom had taught Grace not to get huffy. She’d have to earn Mrs. Paulson’s respect with charm, no matter how much it irked.
And she shouldn’t be complaining.
A shower alone would be great. Her second one in as many days. A record.
“Thank you, Mrs. Paulson,” Grace said with a slow Southern smile and sweet drawl she’d learned in Georgia. “I sure do appreciate the help.”
The older woman looked startled. “Why, you’re welcome, Grace. I promise, Liam will be fine. If he needs you, we’ll come get you.”
She nodded, then walked down the hall, thinking. She didn’t know why she’d tried so hard to end their tense meeting with a draw. She and Liam would likely be gone the next time Bill’s mom showed up.
Grace might not understand her behavior, but she knew one thing—no woman would meet Mrs. Paulson’s standards for her son.
Thank goodness Bill didn’t plan on settling down anytime soon. He would need years to find a wife his mom considered to be a “good woman.”
* * *
Bill’s shift flew by, with not a lot of downtime between calls except for a five-hour stretch of sleep. Now it was Wednesday morning. Time to head out.
He wondered how Grace and Liam had fared alone.
Bill hoped they were doing well, stuck in his house for the past twenty-four hours. He hadn’t thought to leave them transportation or his cell number or a key. Most of his houseguests spent the night and were gone the next morning. No one ever stayed longer.
“Paulson.” Thomas had changed into ski clothing—insulated pants and soft shell jacket. Two long braids hung from her pink-and-purple fleece cap. She might be “one of the guys,” but according to Christian she liked girlie things, too. “See you on the hill.”
Bill would swing by home, check on his houseguests, grab his gear and be on his way. “Won’t take me long.”
Fifteen minutes later, he opened his front door.
Christmas carols played. The scents of cinnamon and vanilla filled the air.
He took another sniff. His mouth watered. Whatever was cooking smelled delicious.
He closed the door behind him.
Liam ran from the kitchen-dining area, his arms outstretched and mouth open. He barreled into Bill, hugging him tight. “Big dude is home.”
Warmth pressed down on the center of his chest. No one had ever welcomed him home like this. He lifted Liam into his arms. “How’s it going, bud?”
Liam cuddled and rested his head against Bill’s shoulder. “Going great now.”
A figure-eight-shaped knot formed in Bill’s throat. He tightened his grip on the boy, who squeezed back, his little fingers holding on as if Bill was as important to him as his beloved Peanut.
Unexpected warmth flowed through Bill. This was a different feeling than holding a soft, sweet-smelling woman. Different, but good. He didn’t want to let go of the kid.
Whoa. What was he thinking? Maybe five hours of sleep last night hadn’t been enough.
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