Regan shrugged and stared out at the water, not meeting his gaze. “They went out.”

“Without you?”

She shrugged again. “They had stuff to do.” Finally, she looked at him, grinning as if she hadn’t a care in the world. But he saw shadows in the back of her eyes. “I turned up out of the blue. They had plans.”

Something was going on with Robyn’s sister. He couldn’t imagine Robyn hadn’t noticed it herself. Behind the smiles and carefree attitude was sadness and something else. Desperation?

Remembering the last redhead with shadows in her eyes who got past his defenses, Thane promptly ignored his growing curiosity. “Right. I better get back inside. Eilidh and Lewis will wake any second.” He took a step toward the house as he realized, “You’re up early.”

“Jet lag. And stupid automatic blinds in the guest room.”

He chuckled. “Ah. I see. Well. I better go.”

“Wait.” She stepped toward him, her short dress fluttering a little dangerously in the breeze. “I was actually coming over because I promised Eilidh I’d braid her hair.”

“Right.” He remembered. Part of him wasn’t too sure about Regan spending time with his children. But last night she’d been brilliant with them, while he was constantly doing and saying the wrong things. It was the first time in weeks both Eilidh and Lewis had laughed that much. Well, not Eilidh. His Eilidh-Bug found many reasons to giggle. But Lewis, his serious wee man, had been too broody for a little boy since Lucy. Thane had a terrible feeling he’d bungled that entire conversation.

“Eilidh’s not even up yet.”

“Then maybe I can come over to talk with you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Regarding?”

She grinned. “The genius plan that just occurred to me.”

He waited.

Regan threw out her arms as if to say, “Voila” and continued, “Meet your new nanny housekeeper.”

Confused, he shook his head. “What?”

“I’m staying here for the six months I’m legally allowed, and I need a job. Like Robbie said, I am amazing with kids and have lots of experience as a nanny. And I know I don’t look like it, but I can clean, I can cook, I can do laundry. Six months gives you plenty of time to find a perfect and permanent nanny housekeeper.”

Thrown by the offer, Thane tried to think of a polite way to say “no way in hell.”

“Regan … I just don’t think it would be a good idea to hire a family member. And for all intents and purposes, that’s what you are now.”

There. That was diplomatic. And reasonable.

Her face fell. “Oh.”

Guilt suffused him, which irritated him. “I’ll keep an ear out about other jobs that might work for you, though.”

“Right.”

“So … I’ll see you later, then.”

“But what about Eilidh?”

He sighed. “Some other time.”

“But I promised her today.” Regan crossed her arms again and tilted her chin stubbornly. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t break my promises.”

“That’s not what I’ve heard.”

He cursed himself as soon as the words slipped out.

Regan stepped back as if he’d punched her in the gut.

The remorse he’d experienced earlier was nothing compared to now. “Regan—”

She held up a hand, cutting him off. “I have no idea what my sister has told you about me. And I don’t care. I love her dearly. In fact, she’s the person I love most in this world.”

He heard the sincerity in her words, but it confused him, considering she’d abandoned Robyn when she needed her little sister the most.

“But Robbie and I are different people, and with a little distance, I realized our parents kind of turned us into exaggerated versions of who we really are. I think that made her see me in a way that wasn’t reality. I’ve got this wild reputation that I don’t deserve, like I’m not someone a person can count on. But I am.”

He gave her a flat smile. “Regan … when you don’t answer your sister’s calls or emails after someone almost murders her—twice—that is the very definition of someone a person cannot count on.”

Tears brightened her pretty eyes, but Thane refused to be moved by them. He’d fallen for pretty, false tears before. A redhead who liked to play the victim.

However, Regan swallowed hard, blinked rapidly to push back the tears, and threw her shoulders back. “Yeah, I guess that’s true. I’ve made a lot of mistakes when it comes to Robyn, but I’m here to do better. To be better for her. And I don’t need anyone to believe that. Words are just words. My actions will speak for themselves.” Her eyes narrowed. “So this is me. I don’t break my promises. And I promised a sweet little girl I’d braid her hair today.”

Feeling his resolve crumble, Thane grumbled and gestured toward the house. “Come on in.”

The woman beamed those bloody dimples at him as she sashayed past. “You’ve got coffee, right?”

“Yes.” He followed her inside. “Would you like a pastry with that, madam?”

Ignoring his sarcasm, she replied with annoying perkiness, “Sure!” and then side-eyed him as they walked into the house. “You weren’t kidding about pastries, right? Because you got my hopes up to here.” She raised her arm past her head.

Trying not to laugh at her playfulness, Thane assured her, “Not kidding. I bought them to prepare for Ms. Redburn’s early visit. Apparently, however, ‘pastries are an unhealthy breakfast temptation to have around children.’”

Regan snorted. “What an uptight bore. I’m a way better candidate than she is.” She winked at him. Actually winked at him.

Refusing to be charmed by Robyn’s sister, he set about heating the coffee and setting a plate out for her to choose from the array of pastries. Turning to look at Regan, he watched as she moved around, taking in the place. It was the same layout as Lachlan’s, but his late wife, Fran, had chosen a more traditional shaker-style kitchen.

As if the thought of Fran had conjured her presence, Regan caught sight of the wall that led toward the front entrance—the wall with all their family photographs.

He stilled as she walked over and studied the images.

Knowing it was coming, he braced himself as she turned to ask in a soft, gentle tone, “Where’s their mom?”

The hollowness that always followed a mention or thought of Fran opened in his chest as he crossed the room to stand with Regan. He brushed a thumb over one of the framed photographs.

Him and Fran on their wedding day.

“Francine died,” he replied. “Two months after Eilidh was born.”

“I’m so sorry.” He felt her hand on his shoulder, the gentle squeeze of comfort.

Shrugging off her touch, he marched back into the kitchen. “How do you take your coffee?”

Silence followed his question, but to his relief, it was soon followed by, “Milk, two sugars.”

He raised an eyebrow, grateful for the change of subject. She returned to the island, her expression a little wary. “Two sugars?”