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Once it creaked open, she took out a couple of huge carrier bags and thrust them at him, then delved inside for more. In the end, they both carried several bags each into his house. Logan led her past the living room and into the kitchen, where Drew sat at the table doing homework with his headphones on.
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It wasn’t until they’d dumped the bags beside him that he looked up. He did a double take when he spotted Agnes, then shot out of his chair, pulling his headphones off as he stood.
“This is Agnes,” Logan said. “She isn’t my girlfriend. This is Drew. He is my son.”
“Hi, Drew,” Agnes said before turning to Logan. “Was that description really necessary?”
“I know how much you like things to be clear between us.” He took the kettle to the sink and filled it.
“Uh, should I leave you two alone?” Drew asked, his eyes darting between them.
“No,” Logan and Agnes said at the same time.
While Agnes took off her coat and hung it on the back of one of the dining chairs, Drew inched toward the bags.
“What’s all this?”
“This is a problem I have,” Agnes said on a sigh. “Dougal came into my office late this afternoon and told me that every staff member has to have a Christmas jumper to wear this weekend.” She snorted. “First I’d heard of it. Anyway, I hadn’t bought any, so I rushed through to Fort William to see what they had—after renting the car from hell to do it—and they’d sold out. All I managed to get was these.” She tipped the contents of one of her bags onto the table and held up several plain sweatshirts in assorted colors.
“They don’t look very Christmassy,” Drew said helpfully.
“Thanks, that’s exactly the kind of thing my nephew would have said.” Agnes made the sign of the cross—incorrectly. “May he rest in peace.”
“Oh.” Drew looked panicked.
“Ignore her. She’s being sarcastic. Her nephew, Jack, is very much alive.” Logan placed a mug of black coffee in front of the monster, making sure it had two sugars, just the way she liked it. He rummaged in the pantry and came out with a packet of chocolate biscuits that he also put beside her. “Eat. Drink. Have you had dinner?”
“I grabbed a burger.” She reached for the coffee, took a sip, then closed her eyes with a sigh.
Damn, she was gorgeous. Logan tore his eyes from her to find his son staring at him. Great, so much for keeping things on the down-low.
“What’s going on?” Darcy said as she came into the kitchen, her ever-present book tucked under her arm. “Agnes!” To Agnes’ obvious shock, Darcy threw her arms around her and hugged her tight. “Don’t worry. I know you won’t be my stepmum, but I still like you.” She released Agnes just as fast as she’d grabbed her and looked down at the table. “Why do you have so many sweatshirts?”
Agnes still seemed to be suffering shock from the hug attack, but she shook it off to answer. “I was telling Drew and your dad that I need to make these look Christmassy by tomorrow morning. I got stuff that might help.” She grabbed another bag and tipped it onto the table. Glue, tinsel, stickers, and lights fell out. “I was hoping you guys could help me stick this stuff to the sweatshirts and make them look good.”
It was Darcy who spoke, and she did it gently, putting a hand on Agnes’ arm to comfort her while she broke the bad news. “Agnes, most of that stuff isn’t going to stick to a sweatshirt. The glue’s the wrong kind to make it stick. And the lights need a socket.”
Desperation flashed in Agnes’ eyes. “I have needles and thread too. And some stickers. Oh, and fabric pens. Something has to work, right?” She lifted a gray sweatshirt. “I don’t have an artistic bone in my body, and I’ve got twenty-three of these to decorate before the morning.”
Logan shared a look of understanding with his kids. “Drew, set up the folding table in the living room. Darcy, run and get your gran. Agnes, get everything out of the bags and sort it so we can see what we’ve got.”
She blinked at him. “So, you’ll help?”
“Aye, of course we’ll help.”
“Craft project,” Darcy shouted and then clapped her hands.
Agnes looked at them in utter awe before doing as she was told, laying everything out in an orderly manner over the table and eating her way through the chocolate biscuits while she did so. A few minutes later, Darcy and Logan’s mother let themselves into the house and joined them in the kitchen.
“What’s this about Dougal needing last-minute Christmas jumpers?” his mum asked, with a look on her face that told him she was ready to give someone a piece of her mind.
“He says he needs them for tomorrow morning and that everyone at work has to wear one. I honestly don’t remember him mentioning this before, but that’s not the point, so I went to Fort William and got the only sweatshirts left in town,” Agnes said. “And everything I could think of to decorate them.”
His mother, who was wearing red leggings and a knee-length purple jumper with white pompoms all over it, surveyed Agnes’ haul. “This won’t do at all. You haven’t done much crafting, have you, Agnes?”
“I made a teapot in ceramics class when I was thirteen,” Agnes said. “It ended up as an ashtray.”
