breathe out of the water, until they grow up into frogs.”
“Then can I have a frog?” Toby persisted.
“Think you can catch one?” Grant challenged with a chuckle.
Jami threw the man a strong glare, but her son was already squealing as one frog squirted out between his hands to send the other frogs leaping in various directions. The spring exploded with splashes and chaos.
“Enough!” Jami exclaimed, hands on hips as she watched Grant dissolve with laughter, and Toby determinedly pursue the hopping amphibians.
“I’m going back to the lodge,” Jami told them, choking back her own laughter. “You boys can meet me there.” She started to hike down the beaten trail, but paused, turning back to add, “Dinner is in an hour, Toby. You need time to clean up first. Okay?”
“Okay,” Toby agreed without taking his eyes off the teeniest frog.
“I’ll see to it,” Grant merrily promised, laugh lines around his eyes crinkling in a way that made him appear as carefree and abandoned as Toby.
Jami headed down the trail, automatically skirting rocks and protruding roots as her head swam with emotion. This felt too comfortable—too much like a real family outing. Why did the man have to be so devastating? Why couldn’t Grant Carrington be a boring, eccentric nerd? Instead of an irresistible, fun-loving hunk?
She had to admit that her heart was in danger—in serious danger.
Chapter 9
Dinner was nearly over when Jami noticed her son giggling and squirming in his chair. Toby sat between her and Raven McGuire. She knew he didn’t like Raven, so it had surprised Jami when he had chosen that seat.
With a sudden scream, the young widow jumped to her feet, sending her chair crashing backward into the dining room wall. “What slimy creature did you put on my lap, you wretched monster?” Raven hissed, her lavender eyes hard as she frantically brushed her dress.
“It’s just a frog,” Toby replied, squaring off with the furious woman.
“Toby Justice Rhodes!” Jami scolded, mortified at the rascal’s action. “Apologize to Mrs. McGuire and find that frog right now!”
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he muttered, sounding definitely not sorry.
“Ugh. I’ll probably get warts,” Raven exclaimed, still wiping her hands on her dress.
“Toads cause warts, not frogs,” Dottie clarified, unruffled by the commotion as Toby climbed around under the table, bumping into her knees.
“Neither frogs or toads give you warts. It’s just an old wives’ tale,” Doris added while nibbling on a buttered roll.
“Warts, ha! Pure conjecture with no scientific basis,” Professor Tolaski declared, not allowing the disturbance to interrupt his obvious enjoyment of the meal. Bits of food were held captive in his beard.
Raven stood with scarlet mouth open, going even paler than normal, as if the frog really did frighten her. Leaving her chair on the floor, she huffed, “I’d better not get warts from that creature.”
“I hope you didn’t give my frog warts.” Toby’s carrot-topped head popped above the table between Dottie and Doris. He held the bobbing green frog in his hands.
Staring at the frog, Raven screamed again.
The frog launched out of Toby’s hands and onto Doris’s lap. “Oh my!”
The frightened creature leaped from Doris to Dottie, who tried to grab it as Toby scrambled over everyone. Jami hadn’t noticed Grant move behind the table until he righted Raven’s chair and took hold of the widow’s gold-bangled wrist. He spoke too softly for Jami to overhear, but Raven stuck her regal nose in the air and stalked out of the room.
“I’ll help you catch the frog, Toby,” Grant proposed, a calm voice in the midst of mayhem.
“Poor frog. It’s probably more scared than Raven,” Jami remarked, hoping it hadn’t got injured in the excitement.
“I didn’t want to hurt the froggy,” Toby said, wiggling out from between chairs to focus worried brown eyes on his mom.
“I know you didn’t,” Jami replied, unsure of how to handle this very public situation. “Once your frog is back in the water, it should be fine.”
“Got it.” Grant rose, the frog grasped firmly in his hand. “Let’s get this froggy back to the spring. Okay, slugger?”
“Sure, Grant.” Toby turned warily to his mother, who nodded her approval.
Jami glanced gratefully at Grant. “I would appreciate that.”
“No problem.” Grant headed for the doorway. “Come on, Toby.”
With the cold, slimy, frantically puffing frog in his hand, Grant led Toby out of the dining room and through the kitchen. Becca turned away from the sink toward them, a question in her eyes until her gaze dropped to the frog. Her mouth formed a perfect “O” as Grant continued out