I Wish by Elizabeth Langston Page A

or—and this made my heart hurt—too small. Had we taken him shopping since Josh died? “He needs to stop growing,” I mumbled.
    “How do I do that?”
    I glanced up to find anxious eyes on me. Crap, I didn’t mean for him to hear that. When did my brother sneak into the room? “I’m joking, little man.”
    “These are fine.” He grabbed a pair of shorts and held them against his body. They would barely cover his butt.
    “Nice try, but you know they’re not.” He was just a little kid. He shouldn’t have to deal with stuff like this. I’d forgotten to include this problem on the master plan, but it would be added now. “I’ll ask Grant to take care of them,” I said, my fingers brushing the tattoo.
    “Great. He can do anything.”
    “Did I hear my name?” Grant stood in the doorway.
    “Yeah. Lacey says you’re going to fix my clothes.”
    My BSB made eye contact with me. “Indeed, I shall.”
    “Good. Maybe the guys at school will shut up about it.” Henry darted from the room.
    I slumped against the bed and stared at the empty doorway, stricken. “My brother is being teased?”
    “Of course he is,” Grant said.
    How could this weekend get any worse? “I didn’t know. He’s never mentioned it.” Why hadn’t he? Henry could’ve talked to me anytime he wanted. I would’ve tried to figure something out.
    “He didn’t care to bother you.”
    “Did you know?”
    Grant nodded.
    “He should’ve told me, or you should have.”
    “Henry told me in confidence. It wasn’t my right to tell you.”
    My brother discussed a serious problem with Grant but not with me. Why? Henry was my responsibility. Had I somehow lost his trust?
    I would have to do something to make this right. I didn’t know what. But something.
    My brain slogged through the possibilities. It was too late for the Labor Day sales, but maybe I could find some pants at a thrift store. “Can I wish for you to make them brand new?”
    “No.” He towered over me as he studied the stack. “However, I can turn those jeans into shorts.”
    “What if I gave you more of Josh’s old clothes? Could you make little-boy pants from them?”
    “Do you have a sewing machine?”
    I nodded. “Mom has a great sewing machine.” I’d never seriously considered cashing it in at the flea market. Sewing had been too important to her in the past. Maybe it would be again one day.
    “Then certainly, I can fashion new clothing for Henry.” He reached down to help me to my feet.
    I rose too quickly and fell into his body. When his arms closed automatically around me, my hands were trapped between us, splayed against his chest. It was, I had to admit, a very nice chest.
    Wait. No .
    I pushed away and staggered backwards. “Sorry.” I scrubbed my palms against my shorts to stop them from tingling. “That’s my wish today. What you said. About Henry’s clothes.”
    His gaze went from my palms to my face. With a suppressed sigh, he snapped his fingers. The pile of jeans jumped into his arms.
    I ran from the room, needing to escape. Once in the hallway, though, I stopped and leaned against the wall. What had happened in there?
    Grant was gorgeous, and he had a great body. But I’d known that from the first moment I saw him. What was different about today?
    It wasn’t as if I liked him. What would be the point? I was his mistress. He was my genie. Like wasn’t part of the agreement. Grant surrounded himself with an attitude as approachable as a barbed-wire fence. No way did I want a piece of that.
    Maybe what I was feeling was respect. He’d shown such strength and kindness last night.
    Wrong. That wasn’t it either. Respect didn’t make me want to scrub the tingling from my palms.
    What then? Gratitude?
    Yes, that had to be it.
    Of course. I had someone to share problems with. He was helping me with Henry. I was flooded with gratitude. Even Grant had commented on it last night. Unlike his previous masters, I was consistently grateful.
    I