He grinned, blue eyes dancing. “Kiss.”

“Just like your father. Kisses fix everything.” But she obliged him before turning to aim a killing look at Gray. “So, what have you to say for yourself, Grayson Thane?”

“I plead insanity.” He shifted the baby, patting, soothing, even as he dragged his hair out of his eyes. “It’s not my fault. Rogan got called into the gallery, and Murphy’s out plowing something, so I was drafted to watch that twenty-pound disaster. Then the baby was crying, and Liam got into the cookies. Ah, the kitchen, Brie, you don’t want to go in there.”

“Is that a fact?”

“Trust me on this. And the parlor’s kind of . . . well, we were just playing around. I’ll buy you a new vase.”

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Not my Waterford.”

“Ah . . .” Taking help where he could find it, Gray turned his attention to Shannon. “Hi. Sorry about this. I’m Gray.”

“Nice to meet you.” She jerked a little as Con rushed past her legs to take advantage of the crumbs littering the floor. Then jerked again when Liam leaned over and took a handful of her hair.

“Kiss,” he ordered.

“Oh.” Shannon’s heart sank a little. Gingerly she pecked his pursed and smeared lips. “Chocolate chip.”

“I made them yesterday.” Taking pity on her husband, Brianna slipped Kayla into her arms. “And from the looks of it, there’s none left but for the crumbs.”

“I was just distracting the kid,” Gray said in his own defense. “Kayla needed to be changed, and the phone was ringing. Jesus, Brie, how can two of them be more than twice as much work as one?”

“It’s just one of those unfathomable mysteries. Redeem yourself, Grayson, and take Shannon’s bags to her room, if you please?”

“No problem. It’s really a quiet place,” he assured her. “Usually. Ah, Brie, I’ll explain about that spot on the parlor rug later.”

Brows knit, Brie took a few steps forward, viewed the chaos of the room she’d left meticulously neat. “Be sure you will. Shannon, I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right.” In fact, it was more so. The noisy welcome had done more to relax her than any smooth manners could have. “This is your baby?”

“Our daughter, Kayla.” She stepped back so that Shannon could have a better look. “She’s a month old today.”

“She’s beautiful.” A little more stiffly, she turned back to Maggie. “And your son?”

“Such as he is. Liam, say good day to . . .” She trailed off, stumped. “To Miss Bodine,” she decided.

“Shannon.” Determined not to be awkward, Shannon offered a smile. “Good day to you, Liam.”

He responded with something that would have required an interpreter, but the grin needed no translation.

“I’m going to clean him up, Brie. Let me have Kayla, and I’ll tend them while you show Shannon her room.”

“I’m grateful.” She passed Kayla over so that Maggie headed toward the kitchen with a child in each arm.