He was in the process of using gasoline and a wire brush to clean some gunked-up bolts when the door opened and his uncle walked in. “Hey, Uncle Leo.”
“Thought I might find you out here.” He inspected Sean’s work and nodded in approval. “I’ve been teaching the boys to turn a wrench here and there. Steph used to help me out sometimes, too, but now her thumbs are too busy with that texting crap to twist a bolt.”
“I should ask her how to run this damn phone I bought. I can do phone calls with it, but that’s about it.”
Leo grabbed another brush and pulled up a milk crate next to Sean. “So how you doing?”
“Not bad, I guess, considering what I let myself get dragged into.”
“No, son. How are you really doing?”
Sean shrugged and grabbed a rag to wipe off some diluted gunk. “I’m doing okay. Lot of guys—and women—had it worse than me over there. I was lucky and now I’m out, no worse for wear.”
“Thought about what you’re going to do when this charade of yours is over?”
“Probably the same thing I planned to do before this charade started. Get a job pounding nails somewhere until I figure out where I want to land.”
“Your aunt’s got it in her head you and Emma have chemistry.”
Sean snorted and stood to stretch his legs and reach his beer. “Between deployment and being sucked in by Typhoon Emma, I haven’t had a chance to sow my wild oats in a good, long time. Trust me, right now I’ve got chemistry with a telephone pole.”
The last thing he wanted was chemistry with Emma Shaw—especially chemistry strong enough for other people to notice.
“Leo?” Aunt Mary yelled from outside. “Are you in that damn shed again? Is Sean in there with you? It’s time to eat.”
“Oops.” Sean wiped his hands the best he could on a semi-clean rag. “Busted.”
“Listen, if you need to talk about…anything, you know where to find me.”
“Thanks, Uncle Leo.” He put out his hand, but instead of shaking it, Leo used it to pull him in for an awkward hug and a slap on the back.
“I’m proud you served, but I’m damn glad to have you home.”
Sean would have said something, but his throat had tightened up on him so he just gave the old man’s shoulders a squeeze and nodded.
“Sean Michael Kowalski!”
“You better go,” his uncle said, releasing him, “before she gets her wooden spoon and storms my castle.”
It was almost the end of the evening before Cat managed to get Mary alone in the kitchen. If she didn’t know better, she’d almost think Sean’s aunt was avoiding her.
“Wonderful meal, Mary.”
The other woman spun around, clutching a box of aluminum foil. “Oh! You startled me. And thank you, though the boys did most of it.”
“I’ll have to beg that marinade recipe from you.” Cat leaned against the counter and crossed her arms. “So why are my granddaughter and your nephew pretending to be engaged?”
Clearly caught off guard, Mary was silent for a few seconds. Then her expression cleared. “They’re not pretending. He asked her to marry him and she said yes. That’s engaged.”
Mary went back to dividing up leftovers and Cat narrowed her eyes at the woman’s back. The question hadn’t surprised Mary at all. She hadn’t wanted to know why Cat would think that or what would possess her to ask such a thing. Obviously there was a conspiracy afoot.
“Okay,” she said after a moment’s thought, “why are they pretending they’ve been in love and living together for over a year?”
Mary practically flinched and Cat watched the tips of her ears turn a darkish pink. “Sean’s been a part of your granddaughter’s life for a long time.”
Though it was artfully done, Cat could tell Mary was skirting around the truth. “How long ago did Sean get out of the army?”
“Oh, he’s been out awhile. Would you care for more cobbler? I swear I made enough to feed the entire neighborhood.”
“No, thank you. Have Sean and Emma been living together for a year and a half?”
“It’s been…oh, I don’t know. I can barely keep track of my own four kids and all the grandkids.”
She was good. Very good. “We hadn’t even left the airport yet and I knew they weren’t a couple. Or if they were, they hadn’t even been dating long enough to get to second base. What I haven’t been able to figure out is why?”
Mary turned to face her and leaned back against the counter with a sigh, her arms crossed. “If Emma felt a need to invent a relationship with Sean—and I’m not saying she did—maybe she thought you couldn’t be happy until she was happy.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.” Or maybe it did.