She reached for Christina’s hand, but her strong-willed daughter thrust out her little bandaged chin. “Ice cream,” she ordered.

“In a while.”

“Now.”

“Come on, Christina,” Tiffany said, exasperated. Who was J.D. to try and interfere? Give it a rest, she reminded herself. He was just trying to help.

Or was he? She didn’t trust her brother-in-law’s motives. This sudden change of heart about his brother’s family had to be phony or, at the very least, exaggerated. Nervous sweat broke out between her shoulders.

“I’ll come with you,” J.D. offered.

“You don’t have to—”

“Come! Come!” Christina cried merrily as she tugged at J.D.’s arm.

“I want to,” he said. his eyes serious as his gaze caught her. “I’ll watch Christina while you get Stephen stitched up.”

“You don’t have to take care of us, you know,” she retorted, feeling cornered. “This . . . We . . . aren’t your duty. Don’t you have work or something better to do?”

“Than look after my brother’s kids?”

“They don’t need looking after. They have a mother.”

“But not a father.”

“Oh.” She laughed without a hint of mirth as a horn began to blast impatiently. Stephen. She started for the car. “So now you’re applying for the job. Substitute dad? Give me a break.”

With lightning speed, he grabbed her arm with his free hand and spun her around to face him. “Give me one, Tiffany,” he said, his face suddenly stern. “From the moment I set foot here you’ve been baiting me and fighting me.”

“Maybe it’s because I don’t trust you.”

His jaw slid to the side and he dropped her wrist.

“Come on,” Christina insisted, pulling on his other hand. He waited. The car horn blared again.

“Fine, fine! Come with us!” Tiffany said as she marched across the dry grass and fished inside her purse for her keys. Christina sprinted ahead and crawled into the back seat.

J.D.’s voice, calm and so in command that it irritated her, chased after her. “You know, Tiffany, we don’t have to fight.”

She stopped short and her temper flared. “Of course we do, Jay. It’s what we’ve always done.”

“Not always,” he reminded her and she, remembering too vividly how intimate they’d been, how she’d let down her guard before, felt fire climb up her cheeks.

“There are some things better left forgotten,” she warned before opening the door of her car and motioning Stephen to climb into the back seat. Grumbling, he did as he was bid and J.D. slid into his recently vacated spot. He winced a little as he dragged his bad leg into the warm interior. Sweat dripped down the side of Tiffany’s face as she inserted the ignition key.