she opened the doors? What would he say? Do?
She’d put him in this position, this terrible position, and now . . .
The moment passed as she tugged the ridiculous costume off her shoulders, drew the snug skirt down her body. Her hair tumbled free down her back as she folded the skirt, laid it on a little chair.
She wore a plain white bra, plain white panties. He hadn’t known plain and white could be so arousing.
He knew what he was doing, he reminded himself. He was taking what he wanted.
He reached up to open the closet.
“Mom! Harry’s hogging the toothpaste!”
“There’s plenty for everybody. I’ll be there in one minute.”
The brats, he remembered, and quietly lowered his trembling hand. He’d forgotten them. He had to be patient a little longer. He had to wait until they were in bed.
Had to wait. Had to watch.
Clare stripped off her panties, tossed them in the hamper before pulling on cotton pants. She unhooked her bra, tossed that in as well, pulled on a faded T-shirt.
Hearing sounds that didn’t strike as teeth-brushing, she grabbed her hairbrush on the fly.
Harry and Liam stopped their sword fight with their toothbrushes, Murphy stopped making bomb sounds as he dropped a dog ball in the sink he’d filled nearly to the rim.
Mad with excitement, dogs leaped at boy and dripping ball.
“We brushed.” Murphy sent her a cherub’s grin. “I’m going to wash the ball ’cause it got slobbered.”
“Let the water out, Murphy.” She bent down to Liam. “Open up.”
She sniffed when he did, caught the distinctive scent of their bubble-gum-flavored toothpaste. “You pass. Into bed. Harry.”
He rolled his eyes at her, but opened up for the sniff test. “And you’re clear. Bed.”
Grabbing a towel, she homed in on Murphy.
“The ball’s clean now.”
“I bet. And your pj’s are wet.” She set her brush aside to tug off the damp top, then dried his hands, his arms, his sweet little chest. “Open up.”
“I brushed real good.” He opened, and huffed out a big breath to prove it.
“Very nice. Go get another pajama top.”
“I have to change the bottoms, too, or they won’t match.”
“Murphy—” She bit back the impatience. Two minutes, and they’d be tucked in. “Of course you do. Make it fast.”
She used the same towel to wipe up the water on the counter, the floor, draped it over the shower bar to dry out before it went in the hamper.
When she went into the boys’ bedroom she spotted Murphy in a dog’s bed with Yoda, and Ben wiggling under the covers in Harry’s bed. Liam sprawled in his own with the glazed, droopy eyes of the nearly passed out.
“Murphy, you’re not sleeping in the dog’s bed.”
“But he gets lonely.”
“He won’t. Ben can sleep with him.”
“But Mom!” Harry clutched at the dog as she wondered how many times she’d heard those two words today.
“He can’t sleep on a top bunk, Harry. He could fall out, or try to jump out, and get hurt. You don’t want him to hurt himself. Come on now. It’s late.”
She managed to get the dog down, set him in his proper bed while Murphy—executing impressive fake snoring—continued to curl up with Yoda.
“No chance.” Clare hauled Murphy up, dumped him in his lower bunk. “Stay,” she ordered the dogs, and kissed Murphy, then Liam, then Harry. “And that goes for boys as well as dogs. Good night.”
She’d made it halfway to her bedroom when she heard the distinctive sound of puppy toenails crossing the floor, and Murphy’s muffled giggle as, she imagined, the dogs joined him in bed.
Discipline started, in earnest, tomorrow, she promised herself. Remembering her brush, she backtracked to the bathroom. She brushed her hair out as she walked back. Once she got the makeup cleaned off, she’d go make that tea. Check the boys one more time, then settle down.
She really should write the copy for the store’s upcoming newsletter, but she was too damn tired. She’d get an early start on it tomorrow.
She caught the movement as she crossed the bedroom toward her little bath, and whirled toward it. The hairbrush dropped with a clatter as Sam stepped out behind the bedroom door, closed it.
“You’re going to want to be quiet.” He spoke casually, with a smile on his face. “You wouldn’t want to disturb your sons. They could get hurt.”
At Vesta, Beckett took another pull on his beer. It felt good to kick back, hang with Avery, talk about nothing important or in particular.
“Are you heading over to Chuck and Lisa’s party?” she asked him.
Only a couple blocks over, he thought, and plenty of his friends, and both of his brothers would be there. “I’m going to pass.”
“Aw, no partying without your girlfriend?”
“Smartass. What’s your excuse?”
“I was going to, but my feet betrayed me. What’s wrong with us, Beck? We’ve always been up for a party.”
“You’re right. Tell you what. You can be my date. We’ll go for an hour. Buffy and Carpenter X need to preserve their reps.”
“Can I have a piggyback ride there and back?” she asked as Hope came in.
“I was hoping you were still here.”
“Problem?” Beckett asked her.
“I can’t get into the inn. My key won’t unlock the damn door, and there are lights flashing upstairs. I was going to check, see if it’s some electrical glitch, but I can’t get the stupid door to open.”
He got up as she spoke, looked out the front glass door of the restaurant. The glass in the doors leading from E&D to the porch flashed on and off like lightning strikes.
“She’s been in a mood the last few days.” At Hope’s arched brow, Beckett shrugged. “I’m just saying. I’ll go check it out.”
“I’m coming with you. This key thing is infuriating. It worked fine a few hours ago.”
“Wait for me!” Avery hurried after them. “Vampire Slayer, remember?”
“I don’t think you’ll find any vampires at the inn,” Beckett commented as they crossed the street.
“You never know. Plus temperamental ghosts are cake for the Slayer.”
Beckett pulled out his keys, jingling them in his hand while they walked down the sidewalk to the back of the building.
“Could you try mine?” Hope passed it to him.
Beckett slid it into the lock, turned it. And glanced at Hope when the lock clicked, and the door opened smoothly.
“I’m telling you it wouldn’t work five minutes ago. If it’s your ghost playing games, I don’t know why she’s mad at me.”
“Like I said.” Beckett flipped on the light in Reception. “She’s been in a mood.”
At that moment, the light he’d just turned on began to flash. Upstairs doors slammed sharp as gunshots.
“Some mood,” Avery murmured.
“I’ll go see what’s going on. Stay here.”
“Like hell.” But Avery grabbed Hope’s hand as they followed Beckett. “Maybe it’s a Halloween thing. Her way of marking the date.”
“Doesn’t sound celebratory,” Hope stated.
“I think she’s been kind of sad the last couple days,” Beckett began. As he approached, the porch doors in
