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But Bentley was dead, and his wife with him.
All she had left of her brother were his children and his wish that she be their sole guardian.
Bryce shoved thoughts of Bentley to the background where they’d been on constant simmer and focused on the dumpster fire that was today.
“Cecily, stop yelling!” Bryce hollered over her. She gave up on avoiding the gross factor and lay down on the grimy floor in her white chef’s coat, pressing her cheek against the tiles, using her cell phone’s light to peer into the darkness at her niece. It appeared she’d wedged herself between two support legs of the store shelves. She’d somehow have to twist the girl to the left and pull at the same time to get her out. “Cici, turn your head until your cheek is lying on the floor, like mine.”
Bryce shoved her own arm in up to the shoulder, attempting to put her palm between Cecily’s face and the sharp edges of the metal shelf above her, but it was too close. Her niece was truly stuck. Panicked thoughts of having to call the police or worse—the girls’ maternal grandparents—and explain what had happened made sweat prickle at her scalp.
No. She was going to figure this out.
And she’d do it without any injury to Cecily that would require paperwork to be completed and add to the mountain of reasons Adele and Harvey Payne already had for why Bryce wasn’t capable to act as their granddaughters’ guardian.
“Are you a pirate?” Bryce heard Addison ask someone as she pressed down and pulled on Cecily’s shoulder. “’Cause I’m looking for Captain Hook, who stole Peter Pan’s ship.”
Bryce glanced up from the floor and noticed two things at once: the man Addison had called a pirate was standing a few feet away.
And he was hot as hell. He had close-cut dirty-blond hair, and a hard-edged face with thick eyebrows that bunched over a pair of deep-set blue eyes that gave him a sexy brooding vibe, like a grumpy Viking. From her position on the floor, the guy appeared tall and muscular, and he looked vaguely familiar. Bryce figured maybe she’d seen him come into PattyCakes—her tiny workstation at the bakery’s kitchen stove gave her a partial view of the dining area and she’d gotten to recognize most of the regulars in town—but she couldn’t place him. He was dressed like he’d come from the gym in a Buffalo Bills cap and black long-sleeved shirt with a matching pair of long mesh shorts. Her niece was currently clutching the man’s left leg…which ended in a metallic spring-like prosthesis below the knee.
The pirate comment suddenly made the worst kind of sense.
The man glanced down at Addison and gave a half smile. The expression transformed his face, like the sun emerging from behind a storm cloud, and that momentary softening of his fierce expression was as surprising as it was mesmerizing.
“Aye, lassie.” The man’s faux brogue made her simultaneously think of theOutlanderseries and every sexy, pirate-themed movie she’d ever watched. Like a gas burner twisted to medium-high, Bryce felt her dormant libido tick to life. As his voice continued in that sexy rumble, flames, hot and eager, raced through her body. “But I’m retired from the high seas, and not even Davy Jones himself can make me return! ’Tis not me yer lookin’ for, little Tinker Bell.”
“I’m not Tinker Bell. I’m Addie-bell, and I think you’re lyin’ to me, pirate.” Addison yanked a plastic cutlass from her pants, and Bryce wondered how that child always managed to stuff toys in the most unlikely places. “Now, fight me, Hook!”
Then she gave the hot guy—who happened to be pushing a cart with a baby inside—a mighty jab with her sword.
Right in his junk.
With a surprisedOof, the guy doubled over, hands on both of his knees.
“Addie, no!” Bryce yelped.
Addison brandished her sword in triumph, a manic grin on her elfin face. “Ha! Got you, pirate! Hand over my friend’s boat, or I’ll make you walk the flank!”
With that odd threat, her niece jabbed again.
Bryce had lunged to her feet, hoping to stop the fake sword from bashing the guy in the head but knowing she’d never get there in time, when the man’s hand shot out, fast as a snake.
“Nay, lassie. I am not your enemy.” The man held the pointed end of the cutlass, his grip unwavering, even as Addison tugged on the weapon with all her fairy-sized might. He straightened slowly, but his free hand stayed down by his balls in a defensive cup Bryce recognized from playing football with her brothers and his friends.
The guy must be cramping so bad.
Unbidden, a giggle bubbled out of Bryce, attracting the man’s gaze. When the laser-like blue stare hit her, she clapped a hand over her mouth, willing away the laughter she’d always had for pratfalls and slapstick situations. This was serious. Her niece had nailed a guy in the prunes. He might really be hurt.
Recalling when these mishaps had happened to Bentley when they were growing up, she sprang into action, snatching a bag of frozen vegetables out of her grocery cart.
“I—I’m sorry,” she stumbled over the words, willing herself not to laugh again. It wasn’t funny. The man was obviously suffering. She saw the pained lines of his mouth as he held his ground with the furiously fighting fairy at his feet. The guy was intimidatingly handsome, so Bryce moved only close enough to snatch Addison by the upper arm, reeling her and her plastic sword out of fighting range.
Bryce held up the vegetables, like a peace offering.
“Here. Hold this on there. It’ll help with the cramps.”
She tossed the bag of frozen corn at him. But she’d been so distracted by those sensuous lips and perfectly stubbled jaw that her aim was off. She’d misjudged the distance and force of her underhand throw, and the bagged corn swooped up and between his legs.
Scoring him in the jewels once again.
