Charmed by His Love by Janet Chapman Page A

“Heck, he only let me start driving it last year, and I’m thirty!”
    Pete shot Duncan the evil eye, then looked up at his mom. “We could ride the school bus to town and still go to the Drunken Moose for cimminin buns. And we’ll bring a jug with us for some gas. Repeat and I can take turns carrying it back to the van.”
    “How about if Alec and I take you home,” Duncan offered, giving the kid a warm smile, “and once we get the van running, your mom can take you to the Drunken Moose for cinnamon buns? How does that sound, Pete?”
    All he got for answer was another evil eye—which ended abruptly when Peg gave the boy a nudge. “Um … if you’re headed our way, we’d appreciate that ride,” she told Duncan. “But you don’t have to deal with my van. I have gas at home.”
    “And if it’s the alternator?”
    “I can have my brother-in-law, Galen, tow it home.”
    “He owns a tow truck?”
    She blinked at him, then began herding her children toward his pickup. “No, he owns a rope,” she said over her shoulder way too cheerily.
    Alec gave a quiet chuckle, slapping Duncan on the back. “Oh man, are you in dark blue–eyed, sassy-mouthed trouble.”
    “Turn right about a mile and a half up the road,” Duncan told him as he limped toward his pickup, only to break into a painful jog when he remembered there was a sword lying on the backseat. “Wait up,” he said across the hood on his way by. “I need to make room for everyone.”
    Peg left her girls and one of the boys standing on the passenger side and walked around the front with the other boy in tow. Duncan opened the rear door and grabbed the sword, andhad started to slide it behind the backseat when the opposite door opened and the older girl stumbled back with a gasp just as a shout of excitement came from beside her.
    “That’s a sword!” the boy—he was pretty sure it was Pete—cried. “Is it real? How come you got it?”
    Duncan closed his eyes on a silent curse and backed out of the truck holding the sword, causing the twin holding Peg’s hand to scurry behind her again. Oh yeah, it was already a long day, and the sun was only just now peeking over the horizon.
    “I have it because every summer my family goes to something called the highland games down on the coast and we …” He smiled through the truck at the boy, feeling the back of his neck heat up. “Well, we all spend the weekend pretending we’re highlanders living centuries ago.” He slid the sword behind the seat, then grabbed his duffel bag and straightened. Smiling again to cover his grimace when his muscles protested, he tossed the bag in the cargo bed—only to jump back when he turned and nearly bumped into Peg, who was gaping at him in the rising sun.
    “What?” he asked, looking down at himself. He touched his cheekbone when he remembered his bruise. “This? Oh, I … um, I fell when I was hiking the mountain with Mac yesterday.”
    “Peter, get out of the truck,” Peg said, backing away. She gestured for her daughters to do the same. “Charlotte, take Peter’s hand and start walking home,” she instructed. “Here, Isabel, you take Jacob.”
    “Wait,” Duncan said, grabbing her sleeve. “I’m going to give you a ride.”
    She checked to make sure her children were out of earshot, then turned on him, her nose wrinkling as she pulled out of his grip. “Thank you, but I have no intention of putting my children in a truck being driven by someone who smells like a distillery.”
    “What? Hey, I’m not drunk.”
    “No, you’re obviously hungover.”
    “I
fell
.”
    “Because you were
drunk
.”
    “No, I wasn’t. I just … fell.” He blew out a sigh—whichmade her wrinkle her nose again and start walking backward. “Okay, look, I’ll admit that I had a small swig of Scotch this morning, but only one sip just to make my muscles stop screaming.” Too bad it wasn’t doing a damn thing for his pounding head at the moment. Duncan looked