For Love of a Grump: A Grumpy Soft for Sunshine Collection

Chapter 7

A child. Their intruder was a child. Charlotte pegged him as no more than thirteen, though it was a little hard to tell in the flashlight’s glare. He was skinny and dirty, with the kind of sharp angles in his face that only came with hunger.

Horrified, she tossed the branch away. “Oh, my God. Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

As the boy still hadn’t caught his breath, he didn’t answer.

Malcolm shifted the light so it wasn’t shining in his eyes and took a step forward. The kid curled in on himself as if bracing for a blow.

Every maternal instinct she had flared to life. She didn’t for a moment believe that Malcolm would strike a child, but she wouldn’t put it past him to use his size to intimidate. He wasn’t exactly the cuddly sort.

Instead, he offered a hand to help the boy up.

The kid didn’t move.

Malcolm lowered to one knee, folding his hands. “You’re no’ in trouble, lad. Have you eaten?”

So he hadn’t missed that, either.

Confusion flickered over the child’s pale face, but he shook his head slowly.

Whatever else was going on in this boy’s life, this Charlotte could fix. “Let’s take him home.”

He scrambled back. “No!”

She held up her empty hands. “Wait! Wait! Ours. We’ll get you a hot meal and get you warmed up.”

The kid split a look between the two of them, as if trying to assess his chances of getting away, versus how serious they were about the food.

Hoping to put him more at ease, she pressed a hand to her chest. “I’m Charlotte Vasquez. This is Malcolm Niall. What’s your name, darlin’?”

He swallowed. “G… Gavin.”

No last name. That would take some time to wrangle out of him.

“Well, Gavin, I’m sorry about the misunderstanding. We thought you were a burglar.”

Insult whipped color into Gavin’s face. “I’m no thief!”

Though a million and one questions scrolled through her mind about how long he’d been out here and what he’d been living on, she simply nodded. “Of course not. So you’ll come with us and let us give you some supper as an apology. All right?”

When he still looked uncertain, Malcolm quietly added, “You can’t stay here, lad. Best come with us.”

He offered his hand again, and this time, Gavin took it. Malcolm tugged him upright, and it became readily apparent that the boy was already taller than her. Not that it was a high bar.

Because she was afraid he might still pull a runner, Charlotte companionably slipped her arm through his. “Have you ever had Tex-Mex food, Gavin?”

He glanced down at their joined arms and dark hair flopped into his face. “Uh… no.”

“Then you’re in for a treat. That’s my specialty. I’m from Texas, you see, and I made enchiladas for supper.”

“What are enchiladas?”

“They’re delicious, is what they are,” Malcolm put in.

Charlotte flashed him a smile. She kept up a running commentary all through the walk to the 4x4 and the drive back to her flat, describing the dish and the ingredients. When he didn’t hesitate to follow them inside, she knew she’d hooked him with the prospect of food. His nose twitched as he stepped through the door, his eyes going wide.

“Make yourself at home and wash your hands. I’ll get these warmed up for you.”

The plate of Malcolm’s seconds lay abandoned on the counter. For a few fleeting moments, she flashed back to the kiss that had distracted her from serving them. Heat flashed through her system at the memory, and her lips tingled with yearning for more.

So not the time. Get it together, girl.

Plating up three of the remaining enchiladas, she popped them into the microwave.

“Do you drink milk?”

Gavin made a face.

“It’ll help temper the heat, in case they’re a little too spicy for you.” And it would get some more calories in him.

“Oh. Okay.”

She poured him a glass. “It’s from cows here on the estate. Probably the closest you’ve ever come to meeting your food.” If he was from one of the other rural farms in the area, surely he’d correct her.

When he said nothing, she simply added a dollop of sour cream to the top of the reheated enchiladas and placed them on the table in front of him. For half a second, she thought he might forego the utensils and fall on the food like a starving animal. Then he picked up the fork and cut a huge bite, shoving it into his mouth without ceremony. Brown eyes went wide.

“Oh my God.” At least, that’s what Charlotte thought he said around the food. Table manners were way on down her list of things that needed dealing with just now.

“Fair brilliant, aye?” Malcolm prompted, sliding into a chair.

Gavin’s answer was to start inhaling everything on his plate.

Charlotte laid a soft hand on the boy’s shoulder, confirming the bony feel of him beneath the jacket that was far too light for the cold nights they’d been having. “Don’t choke. There’s more, if you want it.” Her gaze shifted to Malcolm’s over his head. “Do you want the rest of yours?”

“Please.”

There was that word again.

As she warmed up his second helping, Charlotte noticed how Malcolm seemed to be trying to minimize his size. Not an easy feat, considering he was over six feet tall. But she approved of how he was trying to not be intimidating to the child. Hopefully, they’d get more out of him like that.

By the time she set Malcolm’s rewarmed plate in front of him, Gavin had finished his first round and looked at her with Oliver eyes. With an encouraging smile, she set about plating the last two enchiladas and did a mental inventory of her food stores, trying to think what else she could prepare quickly if he was still hungry.

Malcolm forked up a bite. “How long have you been out there, lad?” He posed the question easily, as if they were just having a conversation.

Gavin’s expression turned wary.

This time it was Charlotte who offered reassurances, along with more food. “You’re not in trouble, sweetheart.”

His fingers worked at a loose thread on the cuff of his jacket. “Nearly six weeks.”

Charlotte pressed her lips together to keep from crying out. Six weeks? This boy had been out on his own for more than a month? The idea of it hurt her, and given his initial reaction to Malcolm, she could only imagine what he was running from.

Malcolm nodded. “Impressive. We only figured out someone was about today. You’ve been moving around, using the cottages for shelter?”

“Y… yes, sir. I didnae break anything. I swear!”

“Nobody said you did. The only reason we knew at all was because we found your sleeping bag. What have you been doing with yourself during the day?”

“Fishing, mostly.”

So that’s how he’d kept himself fed. Between the nearby loch and the streams that fed it, there were plenty of opportunities. And until the past couple of weeks, the weather had been relatively mild. But it had turned downright cold with the imminent arrival of November.

“You’re no’ from Glenlaig, are you?”

Gavin shook his head.

Malcolm cut into his last enchilada. “I didnae think so. If you’d been gone that long from here, I’d have heard about it by now.”

“Nobody’s looking for me.”

Charlotte slid into the next chair at the table. “How do you know?”

“My ma’s gone. My da’s not usually sober enough to notice if I’m there or no’.”

Beneath the table, she fisted her hand as outrage bloomed. No one should treat a child with that kind of disregard.

Malcolm kept his tone even. “Who’s your da?”

Fresh fear flickered across Gavin’s face.

“I’ll no’ be telling him you’re here, either way.”

After a long pause, Gavin finally whispered, “Simon Elliot.”

Legitimate shock momentarily blanked Malcolm’s face. Evidently, the name meant something to him. “You came all the way here from Duntyre?”

Charlotte tried to place the town, but there were so many little villages in the Highlands, she hadn’t learned more than those in the immediate area.

“Aye. It’s no’ so far as the crow flies.”

“A good thirty miles.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Simon Elliot.”

Charlotte needed more information. “You know his father?”

“In a manner of speaking.” It was clear he knew more than he was saying. Judging by the battle light in his eyes, none of it was good. “We’ll abso-fucking-lutely not be telling him Gavin is here.” The matter-of-fact pronouncement seemed to relax the boy even further.

He laid his fork down on a plate that had been all but licked clean. “What will you do wi’ me?”

“I dinna ken yet. But sending you home isnae on the table. For tonight, you’ll stay with one of us. We’ll figure out a plan tomorrow, after breakfast.”

“Stay here?” Gavin asked.

“You’d rather have a warm bed than the hard ground and a sleeping bag, wouldn’t you?” Charlotte prompted. “I’ve got a spare bed upstairs with your name on it. And fresh biscuits in the morning.”

Amusement cut through some of the lingering fear. “Biscuits? For breakfast?”

“Right. What we call biscuits and what y’all call biscuits aren’t the same thing. In America, biscuits are a breakfast food. You’ll find out in the morning.” By her estimation, Gavin was right at what she thought of as the hollow leg years, when he’d have a hard time eating enough to keep up with the growth spurts. And there was no guarantee he’d had enough food even before he’d been out on his own. She’d see to that, so long as he was here. “C’mon. I’ll show you to your room.”

She led Gavin upstairs, giving him a quick tour of the guest room and the hall bath. “And here’s a fresh towel, if you’d like to shower before bed.”

The boy stood there, brown eyes beginning to gleam, chin quivering with emotion. “Thank you.”

Unable to stop herself, Charlotte laid both hands on his thin shoulders. When he didn’t flinch away, she called it a victory. “We may not know what to do with you yet, but we won’t send you back to a bad situation. Okay?”

He swallowed and nodded.

“Get a shower and some rest. I expect it’s been a while since you’ve had either. We’ll see you in the morning.”

Downstairs, Malcolm had started on the dishes.

“So, how bad is his dad, really?”

He turned from the sink, expression grave. “Bad. I knew him from years ago. He was bad then, and I can only presume he’s worse now. I didnae know he had a child. I won’t let him go back there.”

Charlotte hadn’t expected this softer, gentler side of him. Now wasn’t the time to think about how very much she liked it. “So, what are we going to do?”

“We’ll check on things tomorrow. I can make some discreet inquiries. In the meantime, I’m sleeping on the sofa.”

“The sofa? Why? You don’t fit.”

“In case he tries to sneak out in the middle of the night. He needs help, but he has to stick around so we can do it.”

She appreciated that he automatically included her in that “we”.

“I’ll get you a pillow and blanket.”

* * *

The squeakof a stair had Malcolm shooting upright in the pale gray light just before dawn. The sudden motion had him biting back a string of curses as his back made its profound objections to his sleeping arrangements known. He’d definitely need to visit the chiropractor the next village over to recover.

“Sorry!” Charlotte whispered. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” She stood at the base of the stairs, still on her tiptoes.

He sucked in a breath and scrubbed both hands over his face. “S’fine.”

She switched on the light over the stove, and he could see she was already fully dressed, but for her shoes. As she sat at the kitchen table to tug on her boots, her long, thick hair swung forward, obscuring her face, and he couldn’t help but think of another morning, after a very different night. How differently that could have gone if he hadn’t been an asshole. Fresh shame trickled through him at the memory, tying his tongue.

Charlotte straightened, tucking that hair behind her ear. “I’m gonna go feed the babies, but I’ll be back in a little bit to start on the biscuits. There are eggs and bacon, if Gavin wakes up before I get back. And of course, there’s coffee.”

Malcolm nodded. “I can see to that.”

“Okay. I’ll be back.”

She stepped out into the dawn, leaving him feeling creaky and ill at ease. Given the position of the rising sun, he’d have his own chores to do. But Raleigh had taken over some of the feeding of the stock since he arrived, his lifetime as a rancher conditioning him to early rising and farm chores, so Malcolm had a little time, yet. He had no idea what he was going to tell his boss about Gavin. That would depend on the boy himself and whether he accepted the offer Malcolm had come up with during the hours of discomfort on the too-short sofa, and on the results of the inquiries still to be made.

For the moment, the only answer he was interested in was coffee. He blessed Charlotte several times over for her fussy taste in it. She had the good beans and a French press that made for a rich, nuanced cup. Malcolm didn’t bother with such things for himself. The caffeine was the important part, and he was usually intent on getting moving as quickly as possible, but he appreciated the difference when he tasted it. He’d just put the top on the press when that squeaky stair alerted him to Gavin’s presence.

“Morning.”

At the lack of response, Malcolm turned to find him standing at the base of the stairs, backpack over one shoulder.

“Going somewhere?”

“No.” The deepening guilt on his face said otherwise.

“Have a seat. I was about to start breakfast. How do you like your eggs?”

“I dinna ken. Scrambled?”

“All right. You want bacon?”

“Sure.”

The kid sat, placing the backpack at his feet. Malcolm kept his attention on the food prep, giving the boy a chance to relax. Once the bacon was frying, he turned to face Gavin. “Well, I’ve given it some thought. I want to offer you a job.”

“What?” If he’d just told the kid he was secret royalty, he didn’t think Gavin would’ve looked more surprised.

“It’d be pretty physical work. Helping with livestock as needed. Learning to do repairs on fencing. Some renovations on those cottages you were staying in. It’ll depend on what comes up. I’m the estate manager for Lochmara, so my duties are varied, and I need help with different things by the day. In exchange, I’m offering a fair hourly wage and room and board. A proper place for you to stay, so you’re not having to sneak around.”

The surprise melted into suspicion. “Why?”

Malcolm shrugged. “I can use the help. And I’ve met your dad.” He cracked eggs into a bowl, wishing they were Simon Elliot’s skull. “Sometimes a man just needs a hand out of a bad situation.”

He’d had plenty of time last night to remember how Peter Lennox had helped drag him out of the bottle all those years ago. If Malcolm could pay it forward with this kid, he would.

Gavin picked at the corner of a placemat. “I guess we could try it. What about your wife?”

“My what? I don’t have a wife.”

“Girlfriend, then. Charlotte.”

Well, damn if that didn’t send Malcolm’s brain on a merry little trip into fantasy land. It was way easier than it should’ve been to imagine his life merged with hers, with all the freedom in the world to pursue more of those passionate kisses and beyond. As things stirred below his belt, he cleared his throat. “She’s not my wife. Not my girlfriend, either.”

Gavin frowned. “But don’t you live here?”

“No, I live next door.”

“Then why are you here so early?”

“To cook you breakfast.” That seemed a better answer than the truth.

The front door opened, and Charlotte came in with a gust of wind. “It’s brisk this morning. The triplets are extra perky. Morning, Gavin.”

“Triplets? You have kids?”

She laughed. “Lambs. Here, I just took some video of them for their Instagram account.”

Gavin perked up at the sight of the lambs’ latest antics, and the sharing of them clearly gave Charlotte lots of joy. Her smile radiated, brightening the dim space. Of course, that got Malcolm thinking about the kiss they still hadn’t talked about. With all her focus on the boy, now definitely wasn’t the time. That was as it should be. She was good with him. Comfortable and friendly. He supposed she would be since she’d more or less raised Raleigh from a pretty similar age. Based on the stars in Gavin’s eyes, it was pretty clear he was already nursing a crush on her. Kindness and a pretty smile would go a long way.

“There was talk of biscuits last night,” Malcolm reminded her.

“So there was.” She put her phone away and began pulling out ingredients. “I see there’s already bacon.”

“And eggs ready to go on.” He added two more for her.

As she pulled together the dough, he figured he better bring her in on the plan.

“Gavin will be staying.”

“Oh?”

“He’s taking a job on the estate.” Malcolm knew there were a hundred details to figure out. Like where the kid would permanently sleep. He couldn’t very well volunteer Charlotte’s guest room for that purpose without having consulted her.

But she didn’t point out any of the hurdles they needed to jump. She simply nodded. “Okay. Then we should retrieve the rest of your stuff.”

Gavin’s ears turned red as he laid a protective hand over his bag. “This is everything.”

They both looked at the one small backpack.

By this point, Malcolm had learned to read Charlotte. Not that it was that difficult. It was clear the boy’s circumstances broke that big heart of hers. But she said nothing to embarrass him.

“Then you’ll need a few more things. We’ll go into town to pick some up.”

Gavin balked, obviously reluctant to leave the estate, no doubt wanting to avoid being spotted by anyone who could report back to his father.

Charlotte just kept talking. “I need some things from Inverness, anyway. That ought to make a pretty reasonable shopping option. More choices there.”

And it was more than two hours in the opposite direction from Duntyre.

Well, played.

“Malcolm, what do you have to finish today so you can go with us?”

And that was how he found himself recruited for a shopping day with his part-time nemesis and increasing obsession, and the boy it seemed they were informally adopting.