Page 22 of The Grump I Got Stuck With

“Get in, get in,” he said, ushering her back inside. “It’s freezing out here.”

Kenna danced at his side, spying into the bags he carried. “Presents?”

Alistair grinned in a way I didn’t think he was capable of. “What’s all this?”

“Weston mentioned you were short on supplies.” The man set the bags down. “So I come bearing gifts. Er, well, gifts of the edible variety—Agnes’s Christmas dinner and some groceries. The actual presents are still at Lochbrae.” He winked at Kenna. “You’ll have to wait for those. I’m not going back there until this mess melts because Weston’s just going to hand me a shovel again.”

Alistair laughed. Loud and carefree. He was doubly handsome when he smiled like that.

The visitor turned in my direction. “You’re the doggy door guest, huh?” He held his hand out for me to shake. “Locke.”

“That’s trespasser according to Alistair,” I said. “I’m Madison. Nice to meet you.”

“Jelly!” Kenna cheered, pulling out a container from one of the bags.

Alistair took it from her. “You need to eat something other than mushed cranberries, sweetheart.”

“Why?” she asked, leading him into a kid-friendly explanation of how nutrition worked that I got the feeling he’d made multiple times before. But there wasn’t a hint of impatience in his manner. Whatever jerk he might be to me, I had to admit he was a good dad. It was downright sweet to see how seriously he took her every question and concern. Growing up, my questions tended to get brushed off with a “Not now, honey,” at best.

“Where’s Auntie Isla?” Kenna asked, tugging on Locke.

“She’s at the inn now,” he said. “She wanted to see you, but growing a baby makes her very sleepy. After we made it back from Uncle Weston’s, she decided to take a nap.”

“I took a nap too,” Kenna said. I chuckled at her little nod of solidarity. “Now I’m hungry.”

“Well, what are we faffing about for? Let’s get this to the kitchen,” Locke said.

We all pitched in, grabbing bags. Kenna took her jelly back from Alistair, escorted by Princess, who’d become very obedient now that there was actual food on the line.

“I don’t know how you made it all the way out here,” Alistair said to Locke. “The roads are terrible. Madison went out to confirm that earlier.”

I glared at him from the corner of my eye.

Locke nudged him. “You’ve gotta get yourself one of those sweet Range Rovers with four-wheel drive if you’re going to live out here. That dinky grandpa van isn’t going to cut it.”

“It’s not a grandpa van,” Alistair muttered. “It’s a bloody Lexus.”

“It’s all wrong for Braeburn. Isla’s little junker would probably fare better.” He plopped his bags on the island, unpacking loaded containers. “Though the roads in town are slightly better. Sir Grits-A-Lot has already been through.”

“Who now?” Alistair’s eyebrows were all puckered in a way that was almost cute.

It was Locke’s turn to throw his head back and laugh. “That’s the name of one of the gritters. Whenever they introduce a new vehicle, they hold an online contest to name it, and that’s what the good folks of Braeburn voted on. The driver has it all decked out in holiday lights, and there’s a bright-red blinking light on the front and reindeer antlers on top.”

“Like Rudolph?” Kenna chimed in.

“Exactly like Rudolph,” Locke said.

“That’s definitely not a London thing,” Alistair said, glancing down at the spread. “I see Agnes didn’t hold back.”

“She absolutely outdid herself.” Locke glanced at me. “Agnes is Weston’s housekeeper,” he explained. “She’s a goddess in the kitchen and has been keeping my fiancée’s pregnancy cravings in check with her cheese scones.”

“So basically eligible for sainthood then?” I said.

He laughed. “One hundred percent.” Then he gestured to the food. “Don’t hold back on my account. Eat. Then you can tell me what you’ve been up to today.”

While we dished up plates of food—I made a note to personally thank Agnes before I left town—Kenna babbled about opening presents and playing in the snow with Princess. I was featured heavily, and flatteringly, in her rendition of events, and it warmed my chest.

But the most surprising part of it was Alistair. He might have it out for every stranger in a fifty-mile radius, but Locke’s presence had clearly relaxed him. There wasn’t a scowl in sight!