The Trouble With Twins

“Why would she think that?”

“I frowned at her.”

Scout nodded, sniffing harder.

“Hmm.” Shelby came close and stood right beside him. “Honey, Uncle Gray was just teasing.”

“He’s mad at me.”

“No, he’s not.”

“No, I’m not.”

“He is so. He said a bad word.”

Shelby folded her arms across her chest. “A bad word, eh?”

“He said shit.”

Shelby pressed her lips together so she wouldn’t laugh. He wasn’t so successful. But he quickly turned his laughter into a cough.

“It’s not funny,” Shelby said. “Scout, sweetie, I know Uncle Gray didn’t mean to scare you. He’s sorry he said that word, and he won’t do it again.”

Scout wiped her nose on her arm, and despite the recent use of a tissue, it wasn’t pretty. “Can I have juice?”

“Of course.” Shelby held out her hand, and he set Scout on the floor. The girls went to the fridge while he headed to the living room.

He settled on the couch, and as he put the phone back together, he wondered what it was about Shelby that made her so comfortable. He’d never felt such immediate trust for another person. She had the kids eating out of her hand. He’d lucked out incredibly. Perhaps he could convince her to stay until Ellen and Ben came back.

Just as he screwed on the last piece of the phone, the doorbell rang. He got up, but Jem was running full speed ahead. The doorbell was big around here, right up there with dogs barking and phones ringing. By the time Gray got to the door, it was already open. A man, a big man, stood on the porch smiling at the boy. Gray knew him. He just couldn’t remember in what context. A friend of Ben’s, maybe? A neighbor he’d seen on a previous visit?

“Gray Jackson?”

“That’s right.”

The man thrust out a beefy hand. “Jim Lattimer here.”

“Jim…” Gray snapped his hand out for a firm shake. “How do you do, Mr. Lattimer. I didn’t expect—”

“I know that. And I don’t make it a habit of dropping in on prospective employees like this. But I couldn’t reach you on the phone.”

“Right. The twins.”

“There’s another one like this?”

Gray nodded. He felt completely off guard, unprepared and vulnerable. What he had to do was calm down. Breathe. Get himself together. “He’s got a sister.”

“I’ll bet she’s just as cute as can be.”

Gray smiled, then jerked back a step. “Come in.”

“Thank you.”

Jem stared at the big man. Lattimer was at least six five and maybe three hundred pounds. He was solid as a rock, like a football player or a refrigerator.

“As I said, I couldn’t reach you on the phone, and I was in the neighborhood, so I took a chance on finding you home. If it’s not a good time, I can turn right around again.”

“No,” Gray said, leading him into the living room. “It’s fine. Fine. Come on in. Have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?”

Lattimer swallowed. “I’d be grateful. I’ve been on the road since six this morning without a break. Had one of those gas station cups of coffee. It was hot, which is about all the good I can say about it.”

“Water or—”

“Water will do nicely,” Lattimer said. “For a start.”

“Great.” He headed for the kitchen. Lattimer started talking to Jem, and Gray moved faster.

Shelby was at the sink. Scout stood next to her, a square box of juice in her hand.

“What do we have to drink?”

Shelby turned at the sharpness of his voice. “Not much. Water. Coffee. Juice.”

“No beer?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

“Lattimer. He’s here.”

“Pardon?”

“Jim Lattimer. The man I’m supposed to be interviewed by next Monday. He dropped by.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Yeah. And from the looks of him, he’s hungry. I know he’s thirsty.”

“Uh-oh.”

“Yeah.”

She turned and poured a glass of filtered water, then handed it to him. “Stall him.”

“Stall him?”

“Go!”

Gray nodded, then headed toward the CEO of Lattimer Spices, Inc. Damn it, Gray’s clothes were a mess. His hair—oh man, who knew what that looked like. Of all the damn times to—