Prince Charming Can Wait (Ever After) (33 page)

Robbie glanced quickly over his shoulder to check on his load.

"Hey," Emma corrected him gently. "Since you're the driver, you have to watch the lake. You have to trust your spotter to keep an eye on the people you're towing. There are too many shallow areas for you to take your eye off the water."

Robbie grinned, and turned his attention forward. "You're kind of bossy," he observed.

Emma smiled. "I'm only bossy when it matters, like keeping you and Mattie safe." Robbie was pulling the tube slowly, so the engine wasn't so loud they had to shout. "Remember to take a wide turn so you don't jerk the tube."

"I got it." He executed a long, slow turn that kept the tension on the rope constant, just as they'd been practicing. It was an unseasonably warm fall day, one of the last ones before it would be time to retire the boat for the winter. "So, I was thinking…"

She gave a thumbs up to Mattie. "You should start heading toward the beach. It's getting late."

"Yeah, okay." He looked around, and she could tell he was trying to figure out the way to the town beach. She waited, and eventually he turned the boat south. She smiled, and she saw him glance stealthily her way to see if he'd chosen correctly, then the corner of his mouth turned up and he pulled his shoulders back ever so slightly.

"What were you thinking, Robbie?" she prompted, not wanting to lose the connection of the moment.

He kept his gaze on the lake ahead. "So, yeah, Harlan showed me some of your paintings last night when we were moving stuff into your new studio."

She raised her brows. "Did he?" The addition to her cabin was almost complete, though it could hardly be called an addition since the new part was bigger than the original. But since Harlan had sold his place, they'd been able to turn her small cabin into a four-bedroom home that even had the most beautiful, natural-light studio she'd ever dreamed of.

"Yeah, so, um...I was wondering whether maybe I could like borrow some paint or something, sometime." He wouldn't look at her.

Emma studied him for a minute. "Do you like to paint?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe sometimes, you know?"

She was surprised by his admission. He'd been very reticent since he'd arrived. Only on the lake had he opened up, apparently having the same connection with water that she and Harlan had. "I was going to do some painting tomorrow morning before you guys got up. If you want, I can wait for you and we can do it together. I have an extra easel and brushes." She eyed him thoughtfully. "I could show you some techniques."

He didn't look at her, but he shrugged. "Yeah, okay, if you want."

She couldn't keep the smile off her face as she leaned toward him and put her arm around his shoulders. "I definitely want, Robbie."

There was no mistaking his smile this time, and she wasn't sure who was smiling more.

Harlan kept his arm tight around Mattie as he watched Emma lean in and chat with Robbie while he was driving. He grinned when he saw Emma put her arm around him.
Yes.
It was finally happening. Robbie hadn't wanted to trust anyone except Harlan, and it hadn't been easy for Emma to reach him.

But progress was being made. When they'd received the initial paperwork from Dottie officially approving both he and Emma to adopt both kids, something had changed in Robbie. He was still guarded, yeah, but the tough edge was slowly beginning to dull ever so slightly. The kid still had nightmares, and Harlan had sat out with him on the dock at three in the morning on many nights, but even those were getting less frequent.

As he thought it, Robbie glanced back at him, and Harlan inclined his head toward the teen, reminding the youth that he wasn't going anywhere. Not ever. How could he? Between his family and the troubled youths he had started working with through Dottie, he had enough missions right here to occupy him for the rest of his damn life, and he loved every minute of it.

"Harlan." Mattie tugged at his arm.

"Yes, sweetie?" Harlan watched as Robbie carefully and flawlessly navigated the approach to the town beach, driving the boat up onto the sand beside the roped-off swimming area with perfect precision and care. It had been hard as hell handing over the keys of his boat to a fourteen year old, but Robbie had thrived under the responsibility.

As the boat came to rest on the shore, Harlan saw Eppie race over to start lecturing Robbie on the fact he was late and she needed his help cooking the burgers. The kid barely had time to throw down the anchor before Eppie was hauling him across the beach to the grill... where Clare and Griffin's teen daughters were shucking corn. The minute he saw them, Robbie stood taller and shoved his sunglasses on his head as he approached, swaggering just a little bit more. Harlan chuckled softly as the girls pretended not to notice him approach.

"Harlan!" Mattie banged on his hand.

"Sorry, sweetie. What is it?" Harlan untangled his legs from the tube as Mattie squirmed on his lap and turned to face him. Emma had woven pink ribbons into her braids, and she was beyond adorable. Just looking at her made his whole world slow down. "Are you my daddy now?"

Something tightened in his chest, and his throat seemed to become clogged. "Yes, I am."

"Forever?"

"Of course forever."

"And what if Emma died?" Her dark brown eyes were riveted on his. He saw in those five-year-old depths a fear bred of a life too tough for such a small child. "What would happen to me?"

Harlan met her gaze, and knew this wasn't the time to dismiss her concerns with a placating statement that Emma wasn't going to die. Her fear was real, and it was created from what had already happened to her. "If Emma died, then you and Robbie would keep living with me."

"And what if you died then?"

He turned her and pointed to the beach, where Astrid and Noah were helping Emma tie up the boat. "Then you would live with Aunt Astrid, Uncle Jason, Noah, and Rosie."

She studied them. "I like them."

He smiled. "They love you."

She turned back to him. "And what if they died?"

He pointed her to Clare. "You and Robbie would live with Clare and Griffin and their daughters."

Mattie studied them, and finally she turned back to him. "Would I ever run out of people to live with?"

"No, baby, you wouldn't." He gestured toward the beach, which was full of people from the town. It was the end of the summer barbeque, just for the locals, and Mattie knew almost everyone present. "See all those people? They are all your family. You and Robbie won't ever be alone again, no matter what." As he said it, he realized he wasn't speaking only for Mattie and Robbie. He was speaking for himself. This was his town, and he belonged.

She looked at the beach again, and then back at him. "Can I call you Daddy, then?"

"Can you—" He was startled by the question, and touched so deeply he couldn’t answer for a moment. Something seemed to come to life inside him, and he nodded, his throat too tight for words.

She smiled. "And now I want to go look for frogs with Noah. He said he knows where some really big ones are. 'Kay?"

"Okay." Harlan lifted her out of the tube, and helped her take her life preserver off. She was just starting to run off when he grabbed her wrist. "Hey, I love you, bumpkins!"

She gave him a huge hug. "Love you, too, Daddy!" And then she ran off through the water, shouting for Noah, her mermaid swimsuit the cutest damn thing he'd ever seen.

Daddy. She'd called him
Daddy
. His vision seemed to blur, and he looked over at Emma, who was organizing their contribution to the picnic in the back of the boat. Her hair was tangling around her shoulders in a ponytail that had been ravaged by the wind and the sun. Her shoulders were a pale gold, just barely kissed by the sun, and on her hand sparkled the same ring he'd given her that night on the lake. His wife. The mother of his children. The woman who had saved his life.

She looked up as if she'd felt him watching her, and she smiled and held out her hand to him. Wordlessly, he waded through the water toward her. As he neared, her smile faded. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." His voice was husky as he reached for her over the edge of the boat and wrapped his arms around her waist. He hauled her close, burying his face in her belly. Emma wrapped her arms around his head and held him, as she had done so many times over the last two months, so many times when it had simply become too much for him to process.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. The craziness of the picnic and the crowds seemed to fade away, and the moment became simply about them. He breathed in the scent of sunscreen and soap, he felt the soft cotton of her cover-up against his cheeks, the warmth of her body against his.

Emma tapped his arm, and he loosened his grip enough for her to kneel down in the boat so that her face was level with his. Her green eyes were like the purest emerald as she smiled at him. "It's okay, Harlan. It's all okay."

"No, it's not okay. It's more than that. So much more." He tucked a strand of hair back from her face. "It's the most beautiful gift I ever could have received."

"What is?"

"You. Mattie. Robbie. This town." He had no words, but he tried. "I never thought I would leave my job. I liked rescuing people, and I liked being on the move. I never thought I could stay in one place, but these last two months of waking up with you in my arms, and Mattie and Robbie fighting in the living room have been the best two months of my life."

She searched his face. "You don't miss it? Because if you did—"

"No, sweetheart, no. This is my world. I'm done saving other people's families. I'm needed here, with my own family."

Her smile widened. "Yes, you are."

"Hey, Harlan!" Eppie's voice rang out over the beach.

Emma chuckled as he rolled his eyes. "Yes, Eppie? What can I do for you?" he called back.

"Preston and his obnoxious friends just showed up at the other end of the beach. You need to do a walk-by to scare him off!"

Emma laughed as Eppie began to call for bets on how many seconds it would take Preston to sprint back to his car upon sighting Harlan.

Shortly after the incident at Emma's cabin, Preston had received an anonymous envelope documenting the number of people Harlan had killed in the line of duty. He'd put his house on the market the next day. No one had taken responsibility for the package, but Emma had quietly pointed out that Eppie had known about the letter before anyone else had...even Preston.

Eppie was officially involved in his life, which left no doubt about his role in the community. His roots were down. He was going nowhere ever again. Except possibly, on the honeymoon they'd never had...which would, of course, include the kids.

A honeymoon with kids as his next trip? He chuckled as he swept Emma up in his arms to help her out of the boat. He grinned at her as he carried her through the water. "Just so you know," he said, "when the kids go to bed, I'm going to have to make love to you until you scream my name."

She smiled, the devilish gleam in her eyes that he'd grown to love so deeply. "I accept that dare."

He laughed. "I know you do. I love that about you. In fact, I love it all."

And he did.

Ducking her head against the raging storm, Clare hugged herself while she watched the huge black pickup truck turn its headlights onto the steep hillside. She was freezing, and her muscles wouldn't stop shaking. She was so worried about Katie, she could barely think, and she had no idea what this stranger was going to do. Something. Anything.
Please.

The truck lurched toward the hill, and she realized suddenly that he was going to drive straight up the embankment in an attempt to go above the roots and around the fallen tree that was blocking the road. But that was crazy! The mountain was way too steep. He was going to flip his truck!

Memories assaulted her, visions of when her husband had died, and she screamed, racing toward him and waving her arms. "No, don't! Stop!"

But the truck plowed up the side of the hill, its wheels spewing mud as it fought for traction in the rain-soaked earth. She stopped, horror recoiling through her as the truck turned and skidded parallel across the hill, the left side of his truck reaching far too high up the slippery slope. Her stomach retched as she saw the truck tip further and further.

The truck was at such an extreme angle, she could see the roof now. A feathered angel was painted beneath the flood lights. An angel? What was a man like him doing with an angel on his truck?

The truck was almost vertical now. There was no way it could stay upright. It was going to flip. Crash into the tree. Careen across the road. Catapult off the cliff. He would die right in front of her. Oh, God,
he would die
.

But somehow, by a miracle that she couldn't comprehend, the truck kept struggling forward, all four wheels still gripping the earth.