Falling For The Brother

“Am I in troubles?” Brianna, her blond curls glinting like gold in the morning sun, wrinkled her nose as she looked up at Harper.

Giving the tiny hand tucked securely within hers a soft rub, Harper smiled down at her daughter. “No!” She put as much cheer and happiness as she could muster into the one word. “You’ve done nothing wrong at all,” she assured the little girl, fully aware, even if others weren’t, how much Brianna grasped from the adults living around her.

“Why did I hafta go to Miss Sara during my reg’lar day?”

Harper smiled down at her. She’d had no time to prepare for the meeting with Miriam and Mason. To avail herself of informational chats with the professionals around her. To gather facts.

“It’s just like she told you, Brie.” She kept her tone light and at the same time reassuring. “Gram’s going to be staying here for a couple of weeks and we wanted you to know.”

Brianna nodded. Just as she’d done in Sara’s office. When the counselor had asked if Brianna had any questions, she’d shaken her head. Harper had been working at The Lemonade Stand since she’d left Bruce, which meant Brianna had grown up there, in day care, from the time she was three months old. How much the little girl knew about the Stand, about the work they did, no one could really tell. Sara had stressed from the very beginning of Harper’s employment that the less the little ones knew, the better. She’d said that kids tended to see what they needed to see, unless someone else pointed out bad to them.

Even many of the younger resident children living with them didn’t know why they were there. They might’ve been aware there was a fight if they’d witnessed it, or abuse if they’d suffered from it, but often they didn’t know.

When Brianna had seemed unconcerned about her Gram being there, other than asking when she’d get to see her, Sara had sent Harper a glance and taken the child’s cue.

The rest of their time together had been spent chatting about Brianna’s visits with her dad. About the places they went, the games they played, what they ate and bedtime rituals when they were together. She got Brianna to ramble on about all kinds of things, watching for any sign of unrest. There’d been absolutely none—to Harper’s total, weak-kneed relief.

“Is Gram mad at Daddy?” Brianna asked now, her voice concerned.

“No! Of course not!” she answered automatically, wondering if this was one of those signs Sara had been looking for. “Do you think she should be?”

“Nooo.”

She’d never, for one second, thought Bruce was a danger to their daughter, to anyone. And yet Mason had managed to make her doubt. But the fact that Lila had believed him, that had thrown her. Lila wasn’t easily fooled.

And for what purpose would Mason have done this? None that she could find.

She stared at the top of her daughter’s head, feeling...lost. Unsure of herself. Not something she usually had to deal with—especially where Brianna was concerned. Motherhood had come naturally to her, maybe because she loved it so much.

“Why did you ask if Gram was mad at Daddy?” She had to check.

Even Brianna’s shrug was reassuring; the little girl wouldn’t be so casual if she was going through a traumatic moment. “Gram takes care of Daddy and she can’t do that here ’cause it’s a far drive in the car.”

“Daddy’s a big boy, Brie. He knows how to cook and do laundry and stuff.”

“But...why did Gram leave him all alone?”

A small piece of the world righted itself. She was concerned about her father. That was all. Just like she worried about leaving Harper alone every time she went to her father’s house.

“She wanted a little vacation. You know, like when we go to Disneyland. For Gram, this place, with the gardens and everything, is like her Disneyland. She can read and walk and do crafts with other ladies and not have to cook and clean. Plus, she wanted to be able to see you every day. With Daddy coming down to Santa Raquel for visits now, Gram doesn’t get to see you as much.”

“He said he could bring her.”

“I know. And I’m sure he will, but he’s on a job and she missed you!”

There was no way Miriam would tell Brianna anything different. According to Lila, the woman was adamantly protecting her grandson. And Harper didn’t doubt Miriam’s love for Brianna or ability to care for her in the slightest. With her hand in Harper’s, Brianna swung their arms and skipped one step. “So can I see her today? When I get done with playtime?”

After-school playtime signaled the end of Brianna’s day at the Stand.

“Maybe before that,” Harper told her. “Maybe, just for today, you could miss playtime and play with Gram instead. Would you like that?”

“Yeah!” Brianna skipped again. “I would love that, Mommy. Can I? Can I, please?”

“I’ll see if it can be arranged,” Harper said, not promising anything until she’d met with Miriam herself. Which, she remembered with a knot in her stomach, she was on her way to do as soon as she dropped off Brianna at her preschool class.

“Yaayyy!” Brianna squealed. And then, looking up at Harper with an innocence that touched all the way to Harper’s soul, said, “You’re the mommy I always wanted. I love you.”

“I love you, too, sweet pea.” Harper’s eyes were uncharacteristically misty as she pulled open the door that led to Brianna’s class.

You’re the baby I always wanted. She used to tell her baby that—in the womb—and later, too, as she’d been starting a new life in a new town with a new job, and a three-month-old baby to provide for. All alone.

You’re the baby I always wanted. She’d told the baby that to remind herself. And to make sure Brianna knew, that even though she was being raised by a single parent, she was wanted more than anything.

You’re the baby I always wanted.

Brianna just hadn’t had the father Harper had wanted for her.

CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_7ef9c5d8-a251-5567-887a-c78e3976edc3)

ONE OF MASON’S sought-after skills was his ability to home in on the smallest things. To see what the eye generally passed over. Like a tiny pencil mark on the wall. Or patterns that fallen cookie crumbs left behind. He had no magical powers, no special sense that others didn’t have; he just paid attention.

To everything.

Growing up with a little brother out to stab you in the back did that to a guy. Especially when your folks expected you to protect that younger sibling. The cherry on top had been the fact that he truly loved his brother—and knew Bruce loved him, too. Mason believed, even now, that each of them would die for the other.

All of this made his current situation as close to untenable as it ever got for him. Mostly, he just moved on through, no matter what muck he might find himself standing in. Taking it on the chin was also one of his perfected skills. Or drawing the hurt—the contradictions—inside himself.

Six of one, half a dozen of another...

“There she is.” Miriam’s half-mumbled, somewhat ornery remark took him by surprise. He’d been watching for Harper for more than half an hour and yet he hadn’t been the first to see her.

His skills seemed to desert him when she was around.

“Harper.” He stood. Held out a hand to her, not to shake, but to guide her to the third chair he’d pulled up. Without touching her, of course.

That was a mistake he’d never make again. Touching her.

“Well, you must be pleased,” Miriam said by way of greeting, and Mason frowned. What the hell? He’d never seen his grandmother be this downright ungracious. Vindictive. Mean.

I told you so was all over the look Harper sent him.

“Gram.” Mason wasn’t going to ignore the rudeness, regardless of the situation. “I can’t believe you just said that. You know damn well that Harper doesn’t want you hurt. And she doesn’t want the father of her child in trouble, either.” If he hadn’t been sure of that before his meeting with her that morning, he certainly was afterward.

While he didn’t understand it, couldn’t dissect it and study it, he’d always been aware of Bruce’s special charm. People gravitated to him. Liked him. Stuck up for him. Their parents and Mason included. And, apparently, that charm even worked with ex-wives.

Gram’s bent head made him feel a second of shame, and he regretted the harshness of his words, if not the sentiment. He recognized that he’d overreacted in his somewhat primitive male desire to protect a woman he’d once gone to bed with—

Nope. Not going there.