“I guess it’s easier for women to take such matters in stride.”

“I suppose.” Brenna continued to measure and take notes. “You must remember when your mother was carrying Darcy.”

“Some.” He sipped at the water, as his throat was still dry with nerves. Brenna was calm enough, he noted, moving gracefully around the room in those thick old boots, taking measurements, writing things down, making little pencil marks and noting numbers right on the wall.

Some of her hair was falling out of her cap. Just a few long, spiraling red curls, loosened, he supposed, by her dash into the bedroom.

“What do you remember best?”

“Hmm?” He’d lost the thread somewhere, and now shifted his gaze from the red curl that teased her shoulder back to her face.

“About when your mother was pregnant with Darcy? What do you remember best?”

“Laying my head against her belly, feeling all those kicks and movements. It was like Darcy was fretting to get outside and get on with things.”

“That’s a nice one.” Brenna put her tape and notebook away, lifted her toolbox. “I’m sorry I snapped and snarled at you before. I was in a bit of a mood today.”

“You’re in a bit of a mood most days.” But he smiled and tapped the bill of her cap down over her eyes. “I’m too used to your nips to mind much.”

The problem was, she wanted to take a real nip—right there, just along his jaw. To see how it tasted. And if she tried it, she imagined he’d be the one to faint. “I won’t be able to get started in here until Monday or Tuesday, so there’s no real rush getting your things out. But . . .”

She lifted a finger, tapped it against his chest. “I meant what I said about hanging pictures at the cottage.”

He only laughed. “If I get the urge to pick up a hammer,” he began, then threw her off balance by bending down to place a quick, friendly kiss on her cheek. “I’ll be sure to call the O’Toole.”

“Aye, do that.” Irritated all over again, she started to stride out. Aidan, looking frazzled, came to the doorway.

“She’s fine. She says she’s fine. I called the doctor, and he says she’s fine. Just to rest a bit and keep her feet up.”

“Darcy’s making her some tea.”

“That’s good, that’s fine, then. Jude’s fretting some because she’d planned to take flowers to Old Maude this afternoon. I’d run them up myself, but—”

“I’ll do it,” Shawn told him. “You’ll feel better if you can stay with her a bit longer. I can drive up, have a bit of a visit with Old Maude, then be back in time for the pub.”

“I’d be grateful—am grateful,” he corrected, his face clearing a little now. “She told me how you picked her up and carted her off to bed. Made her stay there.”

“Just ask her not to go into a swoon around me again. My heart won’t take it.”