Three Little Words. Carrie Alexander

about teaching a stubborn, crotchety old man to read. He’d been about to leave, when Tess’s voice had drawn him over to the children’s area.

      Voices, rather. He’d watched long enough to see that while she had the verve to entrance the kids with her storytelling ability, she was also a patient and easy teacher. If anyone could charm Old Man Mitchell into proper reading lessons, it was Tess Bucek.

      She was waiting for his answer.

      “Why?” Connor shrugged. “I saw you with the kids. You seem to have a talent. And my grandfather’s a special case…”

      “A hard case, I expect.” There was irony in her voice, but her gaze flickered uncertainly. Her eyes were green, not bright, but soft, like moss.

      She’d do. “I can’t deny it,” Connor said.

      “You need someone qualified to evaluate your grandfather’s reading level, at the very least. I do have a little bit of experience and a minor in education, but I’m no expert.”

      “Exactly why I chose you.” Connor didn’t want to come right out and say that his grandfather wasn’t expecting a teacher and wouldn’t welcome one. If the first introduction was unofficial, a friendly how-d’ya-do, Tess could ease herself into the old man’s graces—it would be a stretch calling them good—and begin to work her magic. For all his gruffness, Sonny Mitchell had a soft spot for any female with a soothing voice and nice legs. Tess’s were…

      Connor looked down. A canary-yellow skirt stopped an inch above her knees. Cute kneecaps. Curvy calves. Slim ankles. Tess Bucek’s legs were more than acceptable.

      Her head lowered, following the direction of his gaze. She tapped her toe. “You chose me for my shoes?”

      “Uh, no.” Connor looked up, his gaze colliding with hers. Her lashes were a pale reddish brown that gave her eyes a wide-awake, innocent-schoolgirl look. He had to remind himself that she was thirty-two. She seemed…untouched. Unmarred.

      Especially by the likes of him.

      He offered another useless shrug. “I’m going on instinct. You seem like the right person for the job. My grandfather can be difficult.”

      “I know. I remember, or at least I remember his reputation.” Tess hesitated. “Maybe you should tell me more about him.”

      “Not a lot to tell. He’s led a simple life. He was the oldest son of Cornish immigrants. Worked since he was eleven—any job he could get, but primarily in the iron mines. So his schooling took a back seat, I guess. Eventually he landed the job as lighthouse keeper and it stuck.”

      “You know, I never knew he was married. To me, he was always Old Man Mitchell, living alone at Gull Rock.”

      “Yup, he was married for more than thirty years. He and Grandma had one daughter—my mother. She was the one who sent me to live with Sonny for those first few summers after Grandma died. She hoped I’d keep the old man company.”

      “Did you?”

      “Pretty much had to. There wasn’t a lot to do at the lighthouse but talk. Or in Alouette, as I remember it.”

      “We manage to find ways to amuse ourselves.” Tess blushed pink when Connor lifted his brows at that. She rushed on. “Where did your grandfather go when the state shut down the lighthouse?”

      “My parents wanted him to live with them downstate. Sonny wasn’t too happy about being away from the big lake, but he settled in eventually. He was satisfied until the past few years, when he started in about returning to his roots, before he…”

      Connor winced at the surprising amount of regret he felt, thinking of the short time his grandfather had left. He should have made a stronger effort to visit instead of giving up so much of himself to his work. What had that got him except trouble?

      Even the loss of his reputation and, it seemed, his will to write were put into perspective now that he was losing Sonny, too.

      Connor took a breath. “Sonny’s health isn’t good. He’s eighty-nine. He wanted to come home.” To die.

      Tess’s expression was troubled. “He’s eighty-nine and now he wants to learn how to read?”

      “What can I say? This is his last chance to amend old regrets.” Always a good idea, Connor told himself. And sooner was better than later, if only there was a way….

      Tess’s quiet voice filtered through his black thoughts, defusing the gloom. “This is your grandfather’s dying wish, isn’t it?” She had her soft hands on his again, pressing lightly, sweet with concern. “I’m so sorry.”

      Connor nodded.

      Her lashes batted away a sheen of moisture. “Then I’ll do what I can to help.”

      “Thank you,” he said, his throat gone raw with the emotions he kept swallowing down. Struck by her empathy, he had an odd impulse to give her a hug, but it had been too long since he’d engaged in a normal relationship. He’d buried his emotions deep. Lost the ability to connect.

      So he shook Tess’s hand instead.

      Sounds came from the foyer, breaking them apart. A man walked into the library, a tall guy with clipped brown hair and a healthy, vigorous air. He was dressed in a sweat-stained T-shirt, faded jeans and work boots. His handsome, all-American face lit up when he saw Tess. “Hey, Marian. Thanks for calling me.”

      “Evan. Hello. Lucy’s waiting—”

      The slight blond girl that Connor had forgotten about emerged from the children’s reading room. “Hi, Daddy. May I check out three books today, please?” Her voice was so soft it was barely audible.

      The tall guy knelt to look at the storybooks she held out. “Jeez, Luce, I don’t know. Are you going to make me read all of them to you tonight?”

      The girl nodded, smiling hopefully.

      Her father sighed. “Oh, all right. Give them to Miss Bucek so she can check them out for you.” He rose, looking at Connor with open curiosity. Maybe because all strangers were suspect in a small town, maybe because Evan had seen him on TV or in print. Or it could have been because Connor’s expression had changed when he heard that Tess was, beyond any doubt, a miss.

      “Evan, this is Connor Reed. He’s in town to visit his grandfather, Sonny Mitchell.” Tess had moved behind the desk and was reaching over to take the books Lucy held up to her. “Sonny’s before your time here, so you wouldn’t know him, but he used to be the lighthouse keeper. Connor spent summers at Gull Rock.”

      The tall guy held out his hand. “Evan Grant. Sounds like you were a lucky kid.”

      “At the time, I didn’t know how lucky.” The men shook, matching strong grips. Connor’s observational skills were sharp. Since so many people lied to him in the course of his work, he’d learned to recognize subtle signals and body language and make instant character assessments. Most of the time he was right in his judgment. He’d always known that Roderick Strange was guilty, although that certainly hadn’t taken any special skill.

      In this instance, it was easy enough to calculate that Evan was a good, honorable, obviously hardworking man. Didn’t mean Connor had to like the guy.

      The familiarity between Evan and Tess was clear. Connor didn’t know why that should unsettle him, when he wasn’t even remotely in the market for a girlfriend. Yet the hair on the back of his hand had risen when he’d gripped Evan’s hand, as if the shake had been about taking the measure of an adversary rather than a simple greeting.

      Forget it. Tess Bucek seemed like a respectable person. He no longer was, according to his law-and-order critics. And Connor wasn’t sure there was any good reason to refute that opinion.

      “Staying in town long?” Evan asked, sliding his gaze from Connor to Tess.

      Connor crossed his arms. “Indefinitely.”