“She’s going to win an Oscar someday.” Mac hesitated. The enthusiasm from the kids was overwhelming, and the ache in his gut was nowhere near his injury.

Grant rubbed her back. “The kids miss you.”

And Mac couldn’t say no. He took the toddler. “A little extra protein won’t hurt her.”

Ellie stopped them on the way out the back door, offering Mac a pair of tiny white sandals.

He laughed. “We both know she won’t keep them on, so why ruin them?”

“Watch her feet, then. Rocks and sticks can be sharp. And she will put anything—and I mean anything—into her mouth,” Ellie said. “Maybe I should come with you. A toddler can drown in two inches of water.”

Faith blinked innocent, pleading, blue eyes at Mac.

“We won’t be out too long, and I promise not to take my eyes off her for a second.”

How hard could this be?

Twenty minutes later, all three of them were soaked, creek slime coated Faith from her wispy blonde hair to the soles of her tiny feet, and Mac was in awe of his brother and Ellie. How did they manage these kids all day, every day? Twenty minutes of keeping rocks and bugs out of Faith’s mouth had been exhausting. He grabbed his boots from the bank and herded the kids out of the shallow water. They trooped back to the house, content and filthy.

“Sorry.” Mac turned on the hose. “We really don’t have any other options. We are disgusting.”

“Yay.” Faith raced through the spray.

“You have mud on your eyebrow, Uncle Mac.” Carson broad jumped into a puddle on the grass.

Mac sprayed his calves and feet and rolled down the cuffs of his cargo pants. Hosing down the kids was like trying to hit metal ducks in a carnival game. He shut off the faucet. “I guess that’s as clean as you’re going to get.”

Laughter erupted from the back porch. Carrying two beach towels, Grant met them at the bottom of the steps. He tossed one to Carson and spread the other wide between his arms. Faith raced into it, giggling. Grant’s face lit up.

“How much mud did she eat?” Grant cocooned Faith in a towel and scooped her into his arms. Tossing her over his shoulder, he turned toward the house. High-pitched, happy baby squeals pierced the evening.

Mac rubbed Carson down to make sure he didn’t drip in the house. “Not enough to ruin her dinner.”

Carson gave his legs an ineffectual swipe with the towel. “Uncle Mac says there are poisonous frogs in South America. They’re only this big.” He held his forefinger and thumb close together. “And they have enough poison in them to kill ten men.” His eyes widened.

Grant whistled. “Those are deadly frogs.”