Rushing In (Bailey Brothers #4) - Claire Kingsley Page 0,45

I’m just going through a challenging time.”

“I’m not going to lecture you.” With a sigh, he rested his hands on his hips and glanced at the house. “There are two empty bedrooms upstairs. Take your pick.”

She flashed him a smile. “Thank you, Norman.”

Mom was moving in? Oh dear god. I pulled out my phone. I was going to need some best friend backup for this.

Me: Just a heads up, but my life just got slightly more complicated.

Ginny: Uh-oh. What happened now?

Me: My mom rolled into town. With a moving truck.

Ginny: No way. What?

Me: Yeah. She lost her job and had to move.

Ginny: And she’s moving where? To Tilikum?

Me: Not just Tilikum. She’s moving in HERE.

Ginny: Here as in your dad’s house?

Me: Yes. Here as in my dad’s house.

Ginny: Holy shit.

Me: I know. This is going to be complicated.

Ginny: Wow. Okay, keep me posted.

Me: I will.

Mom greeted the movers and started directing them while Dad watched. I wondered what he was thinking. Probably wondering how on earth this had happened.

I went back inside to get out of their way, wondering if Tilikum was big enough for both of them.

16

Gavin

Princess Squeaker purred against the back of my neck. She was nestled in my hood—one of her favorite places to nap so far—while I drove to Skylar’s house. The tiny vibration tickled. She’d eaten all her food this morning and was using her litter box like a champ. I was ready to call this kitten rescue a success.

I pulled up outside and eyed the house for a second. There was a red car out front that I didn’t recognize. It didn’t look like something Chief would drive, and Skylar’s car was in the driveway.

Getting out of the truck with a broken leg and a kitten in my hood was slightly more complicated than without Squeaker. I didn’t want her to tumble out of my hood—or claw the shit out of my neck, which was probably more likely if I lost my balance. But I managed.

I went up to the front door and knocked, a smile already stealing over my face. I was getting too excited for this. Skylar hadn’t even opened the door, and I was already grinning.

Mellow out, Gav. Just friends. You’ve got this.

But Skylar didn’t answer.

The woman who did was a knockout. Sure, she was probably old enough to be my mom, give or take, but I could appreciate beauty regardless of age. Her dark shoulder-length hair had a streak of silver in the front. Deep red lipstick and heels to match gave her a don’t fuck with me vibe, as did her blouse and wide-legged slacks.

This had to be Skylar’s mom—Chief’s ex-wife—although I had no idea what she was doing here.

“Hi. Is Skylar here?”

Her eyes flicked down to my cast, then back to my face. “Gavin Bailey?”

“Yep.”

“Look at you, all grown up. I don’t know if you remember me; I’m Skylar’s mom, Caroline.”

I didn’t remember her—not really—but the resemblance was clear. “Nice to meet you.”

“Come on in.” Smiling, she stepped aside. “You must have been a kindergartner the last time I saw you.”

“Probably something like that.”

She shut the door behind me and called up the stairs. “Skylar!”

The whole scene gave me high school flashbacks—picking up a girl for a date, hoping her parents wouldn’t grill me too hard.

“I’m sure she’ll be down in a minute,” Caroline said.

I followed her into the kitchen and she gestured for me to take seat at the table. The counters were a mess of pots, pans, dishes, and canned food, like someone had emptied all the cupboards.

“How long do you have to be in the cast?” she asked.

“A few more weeks,” I said, lowering myself into a chair. “It wasn’t a bad break.”

“That’s good.” She shuffled a few things around on the counter. “How’s Gram?”

“She’s great. I don’t think she’s actually aging, so she’s got that going for her.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. Does she still have her gardens?”

“Oh yeah. And chickens.”

She smiled. “I always loved your gram. Such a wonderful woman.”

“Yeah, she’s the best.”

“I hear you’re a firefighter.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh for goodness sake, don’t ma’am me. Call me Caroline.”

I grinned at her. “Fair enough.”

“How long have you worked for Norman?”

It was funny hearing her use Chief’s first name. “I started out as a volunteer when I was eighteen, so about eight years.”

“You must be very dedicated.”

“It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do.”

She opened a cupboard and started emptying the contents onto what little space was left on the counter. “Sounds like Norman. And your