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

Chapter 9

After twenty years of being a divorced bachelor, Malcolm was being forced out of his routine and comfort zone. It was his own damned fault. Charlotte had been more than willing for Gavin to stay with her. But he’d felt like the boy would be safer with him, should his father come looking. Not to mention, Charlotte. And a part of him had wanted to show Gavin that not all men were like Simon. Not that he’d had dealings with the other man in more than fifteen years, but he’d been a right shite before. Malcolm couldn’t imagine he’d improved with age and single parenthood.

That the kid had agreed to the arrangement spoke of some measure of trust. Not a lot. Not yet. He was still scared that the rug would get yanked out from under him and he’d be out on his arse, so he hadn’t stepped a toe out of line. Malcolm hoped there would come a time when Gavin felt comfortable enough to be messy and disrespectful, because it would mean he felt settled and safe. They’d deal with the ensuing annoyance of that when they got to it.

Because he was already looking at this for the long-haul, Malcolm was having to break out of some well-established personal ruts. Like occasionally conversing, and adopting an expression that wasn’t a habitual scowl. His face actually hurt from the effort. But a week into having someone else in his space, it wasn’t Gavin who’d made the biggest impact.

It was Charlotte.

She’d gracefully bent to the idea of the boy staying with Malcolm. She hadn’t been willing to accept the minimalist decor he’d lived with for the past two decades, insisting that Gavin needed to feel like this was a home, not just a stopover. Not only had they fully furnished and kitted out the boy’s room, but more furniture was finding its way into the rest of the flat. Art had made it onto the walls, including a selfie of the three of them she’d taken in Inverness that she’d had printed and framed. Pillows and throw blankets had materialized in the lounge. There was actual color in his space. She’d even brought in plants, for Chrissakes. Malcolm had agreed to take care of a person, not green things. When he’d confronted her about the fact that he already cared for thousands of acres of green, growing things, she’d simply said watering the plants would be one of Gavin’s chores, something the lad had readily agreed to because he was absolutely smitten with her.

Malcolm couldn’t blame him. She was warm and affectionate, giving him the kind of boundaries and mothering he’d sure as hell never had. God knew, the boy needed that. In just a week, he’d already begun losing that haunted, hunted look around his eyes, and the hollows of his cheeks were starting to be less pronounced.

And though Malcolm would rather have his thumbs screwed than admit it, he actually kind of liked the softening touches she’d added. They made his flat feel like a home for the first time. Maybe, on some level, he’d been denying himself that luxury all these years as a punishment for having lost Miranda and Robyn. He hadn’t realized how much of a difference those efforts would make. And if his own disposition toward the little Latina whirlwind was shifting, well, damn it, she was hard to resist. He was actually starting to like her, beyond wanting to get his mouth and hands back on her.

Malcolm had no idea what to do with that.

Attraction was basic biology. That made sense to him. She was a beautiful woman. But getting to see her in this mothering role was a whole other side he found beyond appealing. Which was ridiculous. He was long past that stage of his life. He’d lost his family and never thought to have another. And yet, here he was, with a teenage boy by his side, waiting patiently for his next instruction, and the knowledge that he’d be seeing a woman on the other side of the dinner table tonight.

Life was pretty fucking strange.

“Hold the end of the tape there. That’s a good lad.” Malcolm paced over to where the new half-wall was meant to end and called out the measurement.

Gavin scribbled it down in the little notebook he carried. They repeated the process with a handful of other spots and angles before starting over to measure them a second time.

Gavin frowned. “We already did this. Why do it again?”

“People make mistakes. They read the tape wrong or transpose the numbers. There’s a saying. ‘Measure twice, cut once.’”

“Because if you measure wrong the first time and you cut your lumber, then you’re out materials?”

The kid’s quick uptake pleased him. “Aye. That’s it exactly. Safer to take a few extra minutes to check yourself.”

They completed the second round of measurements. As they were headed outside to begin cutting, Gavin’s foot knocked into a stack of supplies, sending the loose tiles they’d hauled over from another job site crashing to the floor. Instantly, he cringed, falling to his knees to pick up the pieces, babbling. “I’m sorry. I’m such a clumsy idiot! I’m sorry!”

Malcolm wished he could plant a fist in Simon Elliot’s face.

Moving slowly, so as not to spook the lad, he knelt and began helping him gather up the mess. “It’s fine. No harm done. These were just leftovers. Don’t cut yourself.”

For a few long moments, they worked in silence. But Malcolm’s conscience wouldn’t allow him to stay quiet. “My old man was a right bastard about stuff like that, too. Least while he was paying any attention to me at all. More often than no’, he was off his face, shouting at the telly about whatever football match he was losing money on. Which was basically all of them. It was better when he forgot about me.”

Gavin cast him a wary look. “What about your ma?”

“Left us both when I was wee. My da liked to blame that on me, too, when the truth was, he was a shite husband. Took me a long time to wrap my head around the idea of that. That his bad behavior wasn’t something I had to own.” He added another shard to the bucket. “The thing is, just because you’ve been through something awful, been treated as less than by a person who’s supposed to care for you, doesn’t mean that’s how it’s supposed to be. That’s a reflection on them, not you.” He met the boy’s gaze. “Understand?”

Before the boy could reply, someone knocked on the doorjamb.

Malcolm rose, putting himself between Gavin and the new arrival. But it was Raleigh. “I didn’t hear you arrive.”

“Came on horseback. Icarus needed some exercise. Sorry to interrupt. I wanted to come out and see the latest progress and meet our newest employee.” He offered a quick smile to Gavin. “Hey there. I’m Raleigh Beaumont.”

Gavin edged closer to Malcolm. “Hullo.”

Malcolm didn’t blame him for being nervous. He felt a little on pins and needles himself, though Charlotte had said she’d squared everything with Raleigh. The fact was, Raleigh was ultimately the boss, and he had a say in all this.

If the younger man was bothered by the show of anxiety, he didn’t show it. He stepped inside and rocked back on booted heels, shoving his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. Charlotte’s had lots of good things to say.”

At the mention of his current favorite person, Gavin came out of his shell a little. “You’ve talked to Charlotte?”

Raleigh grinned. “Every day. She’s basically my second mom. Raised me from the time I was not much older than you.”

That got the lad’s attention. “Really?”

“Yep. My mama got sick and passed away. Charlotte was her best friend. I don’t know where I’d be without her. You’re in fantastic hands with her.”

“She’s really nice.”

“The nicest. Hell of a cook, too.” He took a step closer and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial tone. “Word to the wise, though. Don’t slam doors around her. She’s got a thing about that. Last time I forgot, I was on dish duty for more than a week!”

“No’ since you were a kid, though, right?”

“Oh, heck no. That was last month.”

Malcolm had no idea whether the confession was true, but it dragged a smile out of the kid. He relaxed a little. At least until Raleigh turned to him.

“I just wanted to get the update on things, since we’ve been missing each other and haven’t had our usual estate meetings.”

Shoulders going tight, Malcolm started to apologize. “About that?—”

Raleigh waved that away. “You’ve had bigger things to worry about. It’s not a problem. Just give me the overview. Is there anything I need to take off your plate so you can finish this?”

Knowing they needed to discuss business, Malcolm turned to Gavin. “Can you take our measurements and start marking the 2x4s?”

Happy to have a task, Gavin brightened. “Aye.”

“No touching the saw,” Malcolm warned.

“Yes, sir.”

“And mind you don’t walk up behind the horse.”

“Got it!”

They both watched him step outside and head to the trailer of building materials.

Once he was out of earshot, Malcolm eyed his boss. “Are you really okay with this?”

“I trust Charlotte’s judgment, and I trust yours. Whatever’s needed, Kyla and I are here for it.”

Some tension Malcolm hadn’t been aware of carrying relaxed a little. Maybe he should’ve talked to Raleigh sooner. “All right.” Shifting gears, he began filling Raleigh in on everything that had come up over the past week regarding the estate.

They’d barely begun when another vehicle pulled up to the cottage.

Malcolm’s pulse leapt, and he bolted for the door, automatically looking for Gavin. The lad had paused in his task and was eying the 4x4 that had arrived.

Connor MacKean slid out of the driver’s seat and lifted a hand in a wave. “I’m about to be making Charlotte verra verra happy.”

“Oh? How’s that?” Malcolm asked.

“Oh, well, I found that wrought iron tree thing she wanted for Number Seven. Thought I’d bring it by for her to look at.” Connor ducked into the backseat and hauled out the thing.

It was, down to the detail, exactly what she’d described. A literal twisted metal tree, with wee hooks on the branches for mugs.

Something about the whole situation smelled fishy. “You found it?”

Connor rubbed at the back of his neck. His gaze darted to Raleigh. “Aye. I had good luck tracking it down.”

“Good luck,” Malcolm repeated. He’d known this man from the time he’d been a lad younger than Gavin, as he’d been the one intended to marry Afton. It was clear he was hiding something.

“Oh, yeah,” Raleigh jumped in. “So you were able to track down the manufacturer from that catalog she showed you?”

Malcolm eyed the Yank. Was he always this bad at lying?

“Aye. Took some digging, and they only had the one left.”

The pair of them were full of shite. But whatever secret they were keeping was their own business. It didn’t affect him or Gavin, so he’d let it lie. “Well, I’m sure Charlotte will be pleased, but she’s no’ here.”

Connor’s step hitched. “Where is she?”

How had Malcolm suddenly become the go-to keeper of her schedule? “Away. She’s out with Kyla and Sophie, sourcing new furnishings for some of the upcoming cottages.”

“So that’s where Sophie’s gone off to today,” he muttered. “I suppose the stores of extras at the castle have rather been decimated at this point.”

“Castle?” Gavin asked.

Connor finally turned his attention to the lad, flashing a friendly smile. “Aye. I live in one.”

The boy’s eyes went wide. “You’re having me on!”

“No. I really do. It’s six-hundred-years old. On your next day off, you’ll have to come by and see it. I’ll give you a tour. I’m Connor MacKean, and I’m guessing you’re Gavin.” He offered his hand for a shake.

After only a moment’s hesitation, Gavin took it. “Nice to meet you.”

“Connor’s my brother-in-law,” Raleigh explained. “I’m married to his sister, Kyla. You’ll be meeting her at family dinner later this week, if not before.”

“Family dinner?” He shot an uncertain glance at Malcolm.

“First I’m hearing of it.” They’d agreed to keep Gavin’s presence on the down-low.

“Charlotte said y’all would be there. Anyway, Angus needs a headcount, so he knows how much dessert to make.”

Gavin’s brows drew together. “Who’s Angus?”

“Angus is my and Kyla’s uncle,” Connor explained. “He’s practicing to audition for The Great British Bake-Off, and we’re the beneficiaries of all his bakes. It’s a pretty great arrangement, all in all.”

“Has he said what he’s making?” Raleigh asked.

“Dunno. If anybody has requests, now’s the time to make them.” Connor eyed Gavin. “What’s your favorite?”

“I dinna ken. Nobody’s ever asked me.”

Malcolm’s hands flexed with the need to shake Simon Elliot yet again.

But Gavin didn’t seem to be bothered by the question. “If he’s taking orders for anything, I think I’d like a Bakewell tart. Someone brought one once for a birthday party at school.”

“I expect that can be arranged. I’ll pass it along,” Connor promised.

And as their company began to scatter, with farewells and promises to see each other at family dinner, Malcolm reflected about how he was being pulled right on out of his hermit lifestyle, whether he liked it or not.

* * *

“That’s my ear!”Gavin’s shriek of laughter echoed off the stone barn as he angled his head, only partly trying to get away from a very curious Buttercup, who thought his earlobe was something fun to nibble.

Charlotte grinned. “That’s what you get for being down on their level.”

He knelt in the grass on hands and knees, cheeks flushed. Bubbles took the opportunity to leap up onto his back for a higher vantage point, baaing her victory over Blossom, who decided to headbutt Gavin in insult. He rolled over to his back, dislodging Bubbles and snagging Buttercup around the middle so she couldn’t keep treating his ear as a chew toy. Charlotte quietly took video of him wrestling with the three of them, as only a boy could do.

She wouldn’t post it anywhere. This was for her alone. And Malcolm. Proof positive that they were doing the right thing. Less than two weeks in the care of people who truly gave a damn about his welfare, and he was a different boy than the one they’d found hiding out in a derelict cottage. That he still had the capacity for joy after what he’d been through humbled her. Not that he’d said much about his experiences. Just casual comments here and there that intimated significant neglect and abuse. He still flinched and overreacted to anything he deemed a mistake. That was years of conditioning that would take a long time to overcome. If she got her way, they’d have the time to deal with that.

After reading the two of them his version of the riot act for acting outside the system, Hamish had promised to make discreet inquiries to explore their options. So far, he’d been able to confirm that there’d been no missing person’s report filed, which wouldn’t exactly look good for Simon Elliot in the eyes of social services or a judge when it came down to it. But they were being excruciatingly careful about how they proceeded. She and Malcolm had elected to be vague about what they told Gavin until they had concrete information. The most important thing right now was that no one would be taking him away. She was pretty sure Malcolm would go to war if they tried.

This paternal side of him was unexpected and incredibly appealing. She’d never have imagined the Grumpasaurus Rex she’d been verbally sparring with since early summer to have such a capacity for patience. It made her wonder what he’d been like as a young father to Miranda, before cancer stole her away. These hints of gruff gentleness suggested he’d probably been a good one. His efforts were sometimes awkward, likely because those skills were incredibly rusty after all these years. But he was trying. And much as that had been a shock, Charlotte believed Gavin was bringing a part of Malcolm back to life that he’d allowed to wither and die out of grief. She didn’t know why he was allowing it, except that just maybe he was ready to start to live again. She couldn’t stop herself from wondering if that would include romantic entanglements as well.

“Are you thinking about Malcolm?”

Charlotte pulled her focus back to Gavin, who peered up at her from the grass, all three lambs tucked in his arms. “Hmm? Why do you ask?”

“Your face went all funny like it does sometimes when you look at him and you don’t think anyone else is looking.”

Heat crept up her throat, making her grateful for the lowering sun. Was she that obvious? Of course, she had some kind of feelings for Malcolm. They’d embarked on joint parenthood together. And then there was that kiss they still hadn’t been able to talk about. She was starting to think they never would, and that he’d chalked the whole thing up to a mistake. But she wasn’t about to say any of that to her ward.

The sound of approaching vehicles saved her from having to answer.

“That’ll be Connor and Angus. And it looks like Sophie’s right behind them. Put the triplets back in their pen for the night, and let’s head on up to the manor house. You can set the table while I put the finishing touches on dinner.”

Gavin’s long, measured look told her he hadn’t missed her evasion tactic. “Yes, ma’am.”

They walked into the best kind of chaos. Connor was setting a dessert case on the counter. Kyla had one arm linked through her uncle’s, a gesture as much of affection as worry. Munro, Angus’s “friend”, who was secretly probably more, looked on with quiet amusement curling his lips. They all kept a much closer eye on Angus since he’d had his heart attack a few months before. At the table, Sophie was unbundling some flowers, and Raleigh was peering into the pot on the stove.

“Raleigh Beaumont, you put that pot lid back before I find my wooden spoon!”

He snapped straight with a comically serious who-me? face and stepped back, both hands raised as proof of his innocence.

She fixed him with her Mom eye. “Let’s make introductions, then show Gavin where the utensils are and help him set the table.”

“Yes’m,” Raleigh nodded.

If any of the group thought Gavin’s presence was odd or noted his nerves at meeting them, none of them showed it. They were all friendly and teasing, accepting him into the fold simply because she’d asked. The sight of it had a warm glow setting up in her chest as she went to stir the gravy for the pot roast.

Malcolm arrived as she was getting ready to dish up the food. He shut the door quietly, toeing off his dirty work boots and leaving them in the tray by the door for that purpose. His gaze met hers, a question in a single look.

How’s the lad?

She smiled and tipped her head to where Gavin sat in animated discussion with Angus and Munro at the freshly decorated table.

Some tension bled out of his shoulders. He lifted his nose, sniffing. “Something smells good.”

“Hope you brought your appetite. I cooked for an army.”

His eyes warmed. “I could eat.”

The kids helped take all the serving dishes to the table, then everyone sat and began passing plates so they could be filled family-style. Charlotte could barely contain herself from bouncing in her seat. She loved nothing more than having her whole family around one table for a meal, and this motley crew was her unconventional family in Scotland.

“Connor, I’ve been meaning to thank you for the mug tree. It’s exactly what I wanted, and it looks utterly perfect.”

His cheeks turned ruddy. “Oh, it was nothin’. Glad I could help.”

“What is it he’s found?” Sophie asked.

“This utterly exquisite wrought iron tree for mugs,” Charlotte explained. “If I’d custom ordered the thing, it couldn’t have been more perfect. I was just dreaming, but Connor managed to track one down.”

Sophie eyed him from across the table. “Do you have some kind of shopping superpower I’ve never known about? Because that’s a skill your sister and I could use.”

Connor’s eyes didn’t quite meet hers. “Oh, I was just lucky.”

Two seats down, Raleigh shook his head, but hid the gesture by taking another bite of the food. He knew something about why Connor was acting so squirrelly. Was it about the mug tree or about Sophie? Much as Charlotte wanted to know, she decided she had enough on her metaphorical plate and let it go.

Conversation was, as always, fast and furious, with topics bouncing from business to jokes to gossip in the village. As candles burned low, plates and bowls were emptied, and dessert was served. Gavin declared the Bakewell tart Angus had brought the best dessert he’d ever eaten, which had the old man’s ears pinking with pleasure. Then the meal was over.

Kyla pushed back from the table. “Sophie and I need to do some work on the final details for a client meeting we’ve got tomorrow. If anybody needs us, we’ll be in my office.”

Connor gestured to his uncle. “I’m gonna get this one home, so he has time for his evening cuppa before bed.” They all knew Angus tired out pretty quickly these days, though he’d improved considerably since his heart surgery.

“Munro, I’ve got that book I promised to loan you, if you want to stop by the house on the way home,” Angus announced.

“Aye. I can do that.”

Raleigh cleared his plate to the counter by the sink. “Gavin, you wanna come with me out to the stable to meet the horses properly?”

Gavin’s eyes went wide with excitement as he swung toward Charlotte. “Can I?”

She’d intended for him to do some dishes, but couldn’t say no in the face of his pleasure at the notion. “Go on.”

After a flurry of movement and farewells, suddenly she was alone with Malcolm for the first time in days.

He placed his own plate on the counter. “Well, it seems we’ve been left to dish duty.” He began to roll up his sleeves, exposing those muscular forearms in a slow reveal she knew wasn’t meant to be a tease but was, anyway. “I’ll wash. You dry. You know where everything goes.”

“Sure.”

As he filled the sink with soapy water, she put the minuscule quantity of leftovers in a container and added it to the fridge. The silence between them felt heavy with things unsaid. It wasn’t awkward, exactly. More… meaningful. Charlotte wondered if he was thinking of the kiss as she was.

They were alone. Now was her chance to bring it up and clear the air. Even if he wanted to just forget it, she needed to say something, just to have resolution for herself.

Eyes focused on the platter she was drying, she took a breath. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”

Malcolm spoke over her. “About what happened the night we found Gavin.”

They looked at each other and shared a bit of a laugh.

“You go first.” Better she see what he had to say before revealing her own thoughts. “What about that night?”

“Well, no’ when we found him. The… before. In the kitchen.”

Yep, he was definitely talking about the kiss.

“Oh?” Her voice came out half an octave higher than usual.

Her heart sped up as she waited to see where he was going. If he thought it was a mistake, it just might devastate her.

“I havenae been able to stop thinking about it.” He sucked in a breath. “And about doing it again.”

Relief and heat washed through her in equal measure. Setting the dry platter aside, she looked pointedly around the empty kitchen. “Nobody’s stopping you.”

On a growl, he reached for her, those big hands curling around her hips and drawing her in. She was with him, rising to her toes so they were hip to hip, chest to chest as their mouths met. Her first thought was that it hadn’t been a fluke. Desire flared, chasing through her body like a lit fuse, until it sparked a deeper wanting that had her opening her mouth for him. Her last coherent thought as his tongue touched hers was More.

Nothing interrupted them this time. Nothing stopped him from taking the kiss deeper by degrees, devouring her every bit as throughly as he’d devoured her food. The taste of him slid into her, rich and heady and so incredibly potent. Charlotte couldn’t remember the last time she’d wanted like this and found herself pressing closer, needing more contact, more friction, more everything.

He was vibrating with as much pent-up lust as she was by the time they broke apart.

In another time and another place, maybe they’d have followed through on it. But they were in someone else’s kitchen now, and they had more than themselves to consider.

Still, she couldn’t stop herself from stroking a finger over the pounding pulse in his throat as she looked up into eyes gone dark with arousal. “What are we going to do about this? Because our lives have gotten pretty complicated and intertwined in the last ten days.”

Malcolm didn’t flinch. “The smart thing would probably be to focus on Gavin. Keep things simple.”

He wasn’t wrong, but that definitely wasn’t what she wanted to hear.

“But…”

“But?” Her tone was unapologetically full of hope.

He tightened his hold, pulling her closer to the hardness behind his kilt. “I’m no’ feeling particularly smart right now.”

“Thank God,” she breathed, her mind already performing gymnastics to figure out how they could carve out some alone time to finish this.

“I think that I’d like to try this. You and me. Together.”

There was something in the way he said it that told her he wasn’t just talking about a physical entanglement. “Like… a relationship sort of together?”

“Aye.”

Her heart tripped into a giddy gallop at the prospect. She hadn’t allowed herself to even think in those terms, because he so clearly hadn’t been emotionally available. Maybe he was only dipping a toe back into those waters, but she’d take what she could get.

“I’d like that, too.” Cognizant of the fact that this decision impacted their bigger world, she laid down her one rule. “If things don’t work out on this front, we can’t let it impact Gavin. We’re the first stability he’s ever known. We can’t screw that up.”

“Agreed.”

They stared at each other in hungry silence.

“Okay,” she said, at last. “We’re doing this.”

“Brilliant.” He released her and turned back to the sink.

Ever practical, her Malcolm. Her Malcolm. Because at this moment, for now, he was.

Rather than engaging in the schoolgirl squee she was feeling, she returned to her drying duty. Dishes still had to be done.

As she bent over to put the stock pot back in the cabinet, Malcolm shut off the water.

“Did you bring a coat?”

She straightened and brushed the hair back from her face. “No. Why?”

His lips twitched, his eyes sparkling. “Because you have my wet handprint on your arse.”