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It was useless to argue, so she agreed, and a flat, gray rock came shooting out. Bryce caught it, lifting up on her hip long enough to get it into her pocket, then activated her cell phone’s flashlight, shining it under the shelves.
“Hi, Cecily.” Mr. Ryker’s voice came from the other side of her niece. “Looks like you got wedged in there. Once when I was a kid, my dad had to cut the back off our kitchen chair because I got my legs stuck sitting in it backward. But this’ll be way easier. Scoot your head up to where you dropped that dime, and don’t stop until your nose is even with the coin.”
Cecily’s little body wriggled in farther, and Bryce swallowed her objections as most of the shelving unit devoured her niece’s legs, leaving only her untied sneakers visible.
“Good.” The man’s voice was calm and cheerful as he coached her through putting her arm down to her side, and then wriggling backward first in one direction, then another, as if this were a standard, grocery store catastrophe he’d seen a million times. “Now, use your left arm to push yourself to us and keep your right one by your side, and your aunt is going to pull. If anything hurts, tell us and we’ll stop.”
Slowly, Bryce dragged Cecily’s body out by the ankle, then by her knee, then holding her narrow hips. The girl’s black athletic shorts were covered in massive dust bunnies comprised of dirt, wadded hair, and God only knew what else.
Cecily tried to get up on her knees and pull herself the rest of the way out, and then she yelped.
“Ow! Something’s poking me!”
Bryce shoved her hand up, feeling immediately what it was—the bottom of the shelving unit had a plastic pricing tag holder that dipped slightly lower than the shelf, and it was scratching down the middle of Cecily’s back.
“It’s this.” Bryce turned off her cell light and pocketed her phone. She wrestled with the plastic holder, but it was bolted to the shelf.
The guy sat up and watched Bryce struggle with the bolted holder.
“Here. That plastic is going to cut you if you’re not careful. I’ve got it.”
His large hand replaced hers, callus-roughened palm brushing against the outside of her hand. A prickle of awareness went through Bryce at the warmth of that brief touch, and she caught the flash of his glance. Had he felt it, too? Remnants of the old, easygoing Bryce loomed up inside her, and she had a sudden desire to flirt. Smile, maybe crack some joke and—
There was a metallic pop, and her gaze returned to Cecily. With one quick jerk, the man yanked the entire contraption out of the shelving unit, bolt and all. Although his muscles bulged, Bryce averted her gaze, focusing on her niece. She wasn’t the old Bryce. Not anymore.
Addison oohed in appreciation behind them. “You’re the strongest pirate I’ve ever seen!”
Bryce shook her head. “Addie,” she said, warningly, but then Cecily was wriggling out and Bryce was helping her niece to her feet, scanning her from dirty head to grubby toe. No blood. No limbs broken or hanging at odd angles. Cici was okay. Bryce gave her a quick hug.
“Thank you,” Bryce said as the man pushed off the floor to stand easily, dusting off his workout attire. “I don’t know how much of a scene we’d have made if it weren’t for you saving the day. We owe you, don’t we, Cici?”
Before she’d prompted her to thank him, Cecily crossed over, going in for a hug. She wrapped her scrawny arms around the guy’s waist. The man’s whole body stilled as she embraced him, and his face took on a funny, almost wistful expression.
“Hey.” He patted Cecily’s back awkwardly. “Glad I could help.”
“Thanks, Mr. Ryker.” Cecily released him. Then, turning to grin at Bryce, she opened her fist to reveal a handful of coins she’d hauled out with her. “Plus, now I’m rich. Can I get gum when we leave, Aunt Beamer?”
Without waiting for an answer, she headed for the grocery cart with the man’s daughter, cooing along with her sisters at the beautiful, wispy-red-haired baby inside and showing her sisters the booty she’d discovered.
Bryce wiped herself off, noting with a grimace that her chef’s coat was now smudged with grime all down the front, and walked with Mr. Ryker to their respective carts. The girls, seeing him approach, did one more peekaboo game with the baby—he’d said her name was Lisi—and then scattered to their own cart, June hauling out her phone and Cecily counting her change as Addison twirled in circles just out of reach and always in the way.
“Well, thanks again for the help,” Bryce said. “You were the hero we didn’t deserve.”
“Your little fairy had it right—I’m more pirate than hero.” He tossed the ruined price-tag holder into his cart next to a bottle of baby shampoo and two sad cans of pour-and-heat soup. Then he hesitated, his expression guarded as he adjusted his baseball cap. “Hey, uh, I didn’t get your name—”
Suddenly, it was as if a bomb went off behind them.
Bang! Bang-BANG!
Before Bryce registered the sound, she, her nieces, and the cart with little Lisi were corralled to the aisle’s endcap. In two heartbeats, the guy had placed himself between them and the noise, like a human shield.
“Get down!” he yelled, smooshing them toward the floor while huddling over the baby in the cart. They all ducked at his command.
Her heart hammered in her throat as she clutched her nieces to her, even June scuttled to crouch under Bryce’s arms. But after a few seconds, as The Weeknd’s “Save Your Tears” continued to play and there was no emergency announcement, Bryce peeked around the man’s leg.
There was no crazed, gun-toting shopper.
But there was a mess.
