A Family Come True. Kris Fletcher

      “You know,” Xander said with a sigh, “there was a time when you would have invited me in and we could have talked this out over a beer.”

      “And there was a day when you wouldn’t have disappeared without so much as a Facebook post. Guess we’re even.” He returned to the anvil and made a show of examining the cross-peen hammer he’d been using. Yeah, it was juvenile, but hey, Xander wasn’t the only one who could trot out the tough act.

      Too bad it didn’t work. Xander ambled into the garage, hands in his pockets, eyes darting from the forge to the anvil to the wall of hammers and files.

      “You know, Ian, I’m thinking I got us off on the wrong foot here. How about we start over? I walk in and say, ‘Hey, buddy, long time no see.’ Then you say, ‘Xander! Talk about a sight for sore eyes!’ And I say, ‘Same here. How are your folks? How long have you been playing Little House on the Prairie? How’s work and your pretty little landlady and my dog?’”

      Pretty little landlady? If Darcy heard Xander describe her that way, she’d be the one hefting hammers. “I have another idea. You see this?” Ian lifted a curved length of forged iron. “I think this would make a great hook. You know, for grabbing your sorry, law-breaking runaway ass and dragging it to the curb before I—”

      His words were interrupted by the sound he’d been dreading most—the excited bark of a dog approaching home, followed immediately by Darcy’s resigned laughter. Lulu must have gotten away from her again.

      Sure enough, a second later the driveway was a riot of movement and sound as a yipping, panting streak of beagle blend raced closer, dragging her leash behind her. And unless Ian missed his guess, Lulu was heading straight for him, with barely a curious glance in Xander’s direction.

       Mine.

      Ian raised his hand. Lulu came to a quivering halt at the entrance to the garage.

      “Good girl. Stay.”

      Xander crouched. “Lulu? It’s me, girl! Come here.”

      Lulu whined and cocked her head but didn’t move. Nor did she seem remotely interested in her onetime owner.

      Xander pursed his lips—planning to whistle, no doubt—but Ian shook his head. “Save your breath. I’ve taught her to wait there until I tell her it’s okay. Too many dangerous things in here.”

      “Oh. Right. I never thought of that.”

      Of course he hadn’t. Xander and responsibility were about as well acquainted as rap and polka.

      “So, can I go to her?” Xander asked.

      Huh. Ian couldn’t remember Xander ever waiting for anything, let alone requesting consent. His motto had always been that it was better to beg forgiveness than ask permission. Maybe the time in jail really had taught him a thing or two.

      “Hang on. We have a routine.”

      “Sure. Whatever.”

      The excited edge to Xander’s voice wasn’t doing much for Ian’s peace of mind, but he pushed himself through the steps. Check the anvil, check the forge, check the—

      “Sorry, sorry.” Darcy’s laughing apology made him spin around to see her stumbling up the driveway, one hand pushing a stroller loaded with toys, the other curled around the baby bouncing on her hip. Lulu must have led her on a merry chase. The neck of Darcy’s blouse veered way over to the side, and her shoulder-length, cinnamon-brown hair curled in every direction. She was a flustered mess, but as always, seeing her made him grin. Even despite Xander’s presence.

      “I thought I had a good grip on Lu,” she called as she approached. “But Cady decided Mommy was overdressed and yanked my blouse half off, and I had to either switch the leash or risk arrest for public indecency. But I messed up and she got away and I—”

      She stopped just behind Lulu, the hand that had been pushing the stroller rising to shield her eyes as she peered into the shadowy garage. Her cheeks turned as pink as Cady’s ruffled sun hat, which had slipped backward, exposing the pale blond head it was supposed to protect.

      “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t realize you had company.”

      “It’s okay.” He walked over to her, automatically taking Cady as she launched herself into his arms.

      Xander pushed upright. “Hey, Darcy,” he called as he ambled into the light. “Long time no—”

      He stopped abruptly. Darcy’s eyes flew open and she reached across Ian’s chest until her hand landed on Cady’s thigh. A small sound slipped free, one he couldn’t identify because he’d never heard it before, but his gut told him it wasn’t good, especially when she stepped closer to him. His arm went around her shoulders.

      Lulu whimpered.

      “Darce?” Xander’s voice was filled with confusion and uncertainty and something that sounded like shock. This was more than a simple greeting. What the hell?

      Xander shuffled forward as if he’d forgotten how to walk. Darcy pressed closer to Ian. His arm tightened protectively.

      As Xander emerged into the sunshine, the light glinted off his very blond hair. Hair that was a perfect match for that on the head now resting against Ian’s chest. The tiny head of the wriggling child who had just celebrated her first birthday.

       Two years ago—oh, pardon me, not that long but I don’t feel like doing the math—

      All of a sudden the math took on a terrifying significance.

      “Ian?” Darcy whispered. “Would you take Cady inside, please? Xander and I need to talk.”

      * * *

      DARCY MAGUIRE HAD always considered herself a woman of action. In her life BC—Before Cady—there had never been a disaster she couldn’t work around, including the time a blizzard had stood between her mother and a major performance. All that had taken was an hour on the phone, a fistful of money and a snowplow driver willing to serve as a taxi.

      If only this could be that easy.

      Ian did as she asked without so much as a blink, settling Cady on his shoulder and whistling for Lulu to follow him to the house.

      Seeing him holding Cady was a welcome anchor. The rest of her world might be falling apart at the stitched-with-secrets seams, but her little girl was safe and happy in the best possible hands.

      Ian had been blindsided. He was probably going to be hurt that she hadn’t trusted him with the truth about Cady’s paternity. But as she watched him walk away, she held tight to the fact that no matter how much she might bungle the next few minutes, Ian would make sure Cady was fed and diapered and kept laughing. This one little corner of the world would be fine.

      Meaning Darcy had no excuse to put off the conversation waiting to pounce on her.

      At the muffled slam of the screen door, she risked a look at Xander. His blue-gray eyes stayed fixed on the steps that Ian and Cady had mounted. She tugged her neckline and hoped everything was back in place. She didn’t want to find out she’d conducted the most important conversation of her life with a wardrobe malfunction.

      Assured that she was as decent as was possible, she pulled herself upright. “Let’s go out back.”

      Xander dragged his understandably blank gaze from the steps to her. She led him to the yard and the picnic table where two summers ago she, Ian and Xander had whiled away long summer evenings with a few beers and a lot of laughs. Maybe the vibrations of that laughter still lingered here. Maybe they would make it possible for her and Xander to get through...whatever...with the same purpose: to do what was best for her—their—daughter.

      Dear God, she hoped she could do a better job of navigating Cady through whatever came next than her own mother had done for her.

      While Xander straddled the