and everyone’s attention shifted that way. Macy saw surprise and curiosity on Brent’s and Anne’s faces before she shifted Clary to one hip and turned. An odd sense of nerves and pleasure went through her. It had been so long since she’d introduced a man to her family, and look how that had turned out.
But Stephen wasn’t Mark. He was so much more.
“Stephen, this is my brother, Brent, and his wife, Anne—”
“Uncle Brent and AnAnne,” Clary clarified.
Anne ruffled Clary’s silky brown hair. “She doesn’t quite get that there’s a t on aunt.”
“And my daughter, Clary,” Macy continued. “Guys, this is Stephen Noble.” She thought about clarifying him, too—my neighbor, my friend, the man who kissed me last night and made my whole body go weak. She didn’t add anything, though. Stephen was enough.
He and Brent shook hands; he and Anne exchanged greetings. His expression when he turned to Clary was serious, gentle, not overly friendly like so many adults. “Hey, Clary.”
Clary curled a strand of hair around one finger. “Why you wear those?” She pointed to his glasses with her other hand.
“Because I don’t see very well without them.”
“Can I try?”
Macy was about to tell her no when he removed the glasses and handed them over, apparently uncaring whether she got prints on them. Of course, they were way too big for her, but she held them with one hand over the bridge and half of each lens, then looked at each adult. “I see silly.”
“You are silly, Jilly. Now give them back carefully.”
Her daughter obeyed, and Stephen cleaned the glasses on his T-shirt—black today—before putting them on again.
Macy tuned out the conversation. She was here with the people she loved best and the man she liked best in the whole world. Finally, this house didn’t seem so cold.
* * *
After giving them all a tour of the house—it was Anne’s first visit and Stephen’s first time to see everything—Macy suggested they go outside to catch up. It was a warm afternoon, but with the shade and the ceiling fans overhead, it was comfortable.
Macy and Anne stopped in the kitchen to get drinks while Stephen, Brent and Clary went ahead. She ran in the yard from one flower bed to another with the unfailing energy of a three-year-old, and they more or less drifted to the teak love seat and chairs nearby. Stephen, who never found himself at a loss for words, wasn’t entirely sure what to say to Macy’s protective older brother. He’d caught Brent’s first wary look when he’d come out of the library. He figured none of the Irelands would be happy to see her getting involved with another man unless it was someone they knew and approved of.
“So...Macy says you’re a vet.”
Stephen nodded. “I work part-time at a clinic in town.”
Brent’s own nod was kind of measuring. Wondering what else he did with his time? If he was part vet, part lazy bum? If part-time work was the best he could get?
Stephen sat in one of the chairs, facing the love seat, its cushions sighing under him, and Brent took a seat across from him.
“How long have you been in town?”
“A little under a year.”
Another measuring nod. “Has she told—” Brent broke off, then substituted another question. “What brought you to Copper Lake?”
“My sister lives here. When the vet job came open, I decided to take it.”
“Is she younger or older?”
Stephen suppressed a smile. “Older. She works for the Copper Lake Police Department.”
As he’d expected, that took a little of Brent’s edge off. He was worried about his sister. Mark’s suicide had been tough for her. Stephen had no doubt that was what Brent had started to ask: Has she told you how her husband died? He didn’t want her hurt again.
They were on the same side there.
“Do you do anything besides be a vet part-time?”
Before Stephen could answer, Clary ran up, skidding to a stop right beside his chair. “What’s a vet?”
She looked like her mother. He’d seen it in the photograph, but gazing into her face, flesh and blood and dimension, it was so much more obvious. If there was a hint of her father in her, he couldn’t see it. Or maybe didn’t want to see it.
“A vet is a doctor for animals.”
“I go to a doctor for kids. His name is Dr. Chris. Do you give the animals shots?”
“When they need them.”
Her little face screwed up. “I don’t like shots, but I don’t cry, and I get a Band-Aid with a puppy