It didn’t take long to close in on the car. The question was how to handle this.

His first instinct was to shoot the man and ask questions later, but he knew that wasn’t the best way to proceed. Killing Dale’s father, assuming that’s who this was, wasn’t going to help the boy become a well-adjusted adult. Even if it would ensure Isabelle’s safety.

As far as he could see, they were just sitting in the front seat, chatting. No one was angry. No fists were flying.

Caution was probably best, though not necessarily the most fun or most satisfying.

Grant appeared by the driver’s window and tapped on the glass.

The shocked look that crossed Wyatt’s face—and it had to be Dale’s father, because the family resemblance was uncanny—pleased Grant. Wyatt hadn’t seen him coming, which would make the man wonder when he might pop up again.

“Out of the car, Dale,” said Grant, knowing the boy could hear him through the glass.

Dale moved to open the door, but Wyatt stopped him by grabbing his arm. “We’re not done talking yet,” he told Grant.

The temptation to escalate things was getting harder and harder to resist, but Grant was man enough to control himself. He crossed his arms over his naked chest and stuck a patient, carefree pose. “Fine. I’m sure the cops will sort it all out.”

“You called the fucking cops!”

As if orchestrated by a master conductor, the wail of sirens split the night air. “What do you think?”

“Shit! Get out of the car, boy.”

Dale did as he was ordered while the Tempo rattled to life. Dale had barely cleared the car before it took off in a screech of tires.

Isabelle ran across the lawn and down the street with her glossy hair flying out behind her. She didn’t stop until she’d caught Dale in a nearly smothering embrace. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

Dale stood stiff in her arms, and Grant had no choice but to save the boy from being humiliated in front of the cops, who were sure to pull up at any moment. Motherly hugs were one thing. Motherly hugs in front of a bunch of grown men were another.

Grant tugged at the fluffy bathrobe Isabelle had brought out with her. “That for me?” he asked Isabelle.

She pulled away from Dale just as the flashing lights started glittering off the windows down the street. Grant made quick work of pulling on the robe and tucked his weapon into one of the deep pockets.

Lights in the neighboring houses started flipping on one after another, and anxious faces peered out. And he was freezing his ass off.

“I suggest we move this inside,” he said, taking both Isabelle and Dale by the arm to get them moving toward the house.

They made it as far as the front door when a pair of police officers caught up with them.

Grant wanted to speak to them, but he preferred not to do it in a pink bathrobe that barely stretched over his shoulders. Especially not one with a weapon in the pocket that would raise all kinds of unnecessary questions.

He said loud enough for the cops to hear, “I’m going to put some pants on. I’ll be right back,” before running up the stairs two at a time.

Isabelle couldn’t think straight. All she could think about were the things that could have happened to Dale if Grant hadn’t found him.

Thank God Grant had been here and Dale was safe.

Her hands shook with relief as she rummaged through the cabinets, looking for the coffee can she was sure had to be in here somewhere. She always drank tea, but she kept coffee on hand for guests. Where the heck was it?

Tears blurred her vision, making the search harder. She wiped her eyes carefully, hoping they wouldn’t be red and puffy when she went back in the living room where the police were currently questioning Dale. She didn’t want him to know how much Wyatt’s presence and the danger it posed had upset her.

Or how much it had hurt her that Dale had gone out without even letting her know. She’d thought he trusted her more than that, but apparently, she’d been wrong.

Maybe she’d been wrong about a lot of things, including making the decision to become a foster parent.

What the heck was she thinking? She didn’t know anything about raising kids. She hadn’t even had a normal childhood herself to serve as a good example. Who was she to think that she could help someone else when she was just as lost and confused as they were?

Isabelle stifled a sob and tried to pull herself together. Dale was safe. That’s what really mattered here, not her hurt feelings.

Where the hell was that blasted coffee?

Isabelle was in the process of emptying the third cabinet onto the counter when Grant came into the kitchen. He was dressed again, for which she was grateful. Nearly-naked Grant was too much stimulus for any red-blooded woman, and she had enough to deal with without adding to it a pile of useless hormones.

“What are you looking for?”

“The coffee. I know there’s some in here somewhere.” She slammed a cabinet shut and started emptying another one.

Grant came up behind her and looped his fingers around her wrists, stilling her frantic motions. He wrapped his arms, as well as her own, around her body in a hug. Or maybe he was playing human straitjacket.

Either way, his touch felt good, so solid and reassuring she couldn’t help but lean into him just a little.

The hard curves of his chest pressing against her back and the living warmth of his body sinking into her made it easier to breathe. She wasn’t used to being comforted, and it shook her to the core.

He leaned down so his mouth was right by her ear. “It’s going to be okay,” he told her in a voice so soothing and confident she almost believed him.

Too bad it was all a gentle lie her body was willing to accept in an effort to find solace. The truth was, no matter how long he held her, or what pretty words he whispered, her problems would all still be waiting for her when he walked away.

She was a big girl and needed to learn to deal with this kind of crisis on her own. “I need to find the coffee.”

Isabelle moved against him to let him know she wanted him to let go, but he ignored her and held her tight. “To hell with the coffee. I’ll go buy you some when this is all over.”

“But I’m supposed to make coffee for the police.” She knew she sounded frantic, but she couldn’t stop the words from coming out.

Grant loosened his hold and turned her around to face him, but he didn’t let go completely. His big hands slid up and down her arms, helping to soothe her rattled nerves. “Says who?”

“The TV.”

His mouth lifted in amusement. “You’re a teacher. You’re supposed to know better than to do everything you see on TV. I’ve already told them what I saw and gave them Wyatt’s license plate number. They want to speak to you.”

“Why? I didn’t do anything to help Dale.”

“He needs you.”

The crushing weight of what could have happened to him nearly drove Isabelle to her knees. He was her responsibility, and she’d failed him. “You’re the one who saved him. You should go out there.”

“I didn’t save him, Isabelle. I just ran his dad off.”

“What if you hadn’t been here tonight?”

He frowned at her as if he didn’t understand what she meant. “You would have dealt with the situation yourself.”

“How? I don’t have a gun. I don’t even know how to use one.”

He was still rubbing her arms in a slow, soothing sweep. “We can take care of that if you want, but you don’t need one. Hell, I didn’t need one, either, I just didn’t know that when I woke up to you yelling for Dale.”

“I could never have climbed out that window like you did.”

“The stairs would have worked fine. I was just showing off for you.”

The grim, determined look he’d worn on his face at the time was proof enough for her that he would have walked naked into a burning building if it would have saved him a few seconds in getting to Dale. “Liar.”

“Maybe a little,” he admitted.

“I didn’t even see Wyatt’s car. He could have hurt Dale in the time it took me to even figure out where he’d gone.”

“That wasn’t going to happen. I’m glad I was here for you tonight, but that doesn’t mean that you wouldn’t have taken care of it on your own.”

Her real fear billowed up inside her, and she couldn’t stop a fresh flow of tears from sliding down her cheeks, no matter how much she hated the idea of letting Grant see her cry. She didn’t want to admit the truth, but she knew she had to. There were few people in her life who would understand, but she was sure Grant was one of them. “As much as I want to, I’m not sure I should be a parent.”

“Why not?”

“I never had a real family. I have no clue how one is supposed to work. My teenage mother put me up for adoption at birth. I was passed from one home to another, and although most of them were good, I always knew it would be temporary.” She was temporary, like a Christmas tree. Everyone made a fuss over having her in their home, but only for a short while. Then she was simply in the way, taking up space, making a mess, and a pain to dispose of. “What right do I have to inflict my messed-up childhood and lack of experience on Dale? He deserves better than I’ll ever be able to give.”

Grant hugged her tight, cupping her head in his big hand. “Shhh, now. Don’t talk like that or make more of this than it is. This was not a failure on your part as a parent.”

She could hear the strong, steady beat of his heart and feel the low rumble of his voice. It had been a long time since she’d been this close to a man, and part of her wanted to curl into him and pretend that all of this was going to go away. “That’s easy for you to say.”

“Because it’s the truth. Kids sneak out all the time to do stupid stuff. Dale made a bad decision. That’s all that happened here tonight. He might have even made it for a good reason. You won’t know until you talk to him.”

Isabelle wanted Grant to be right. She wanted to believe that she hadn’t failed at such a fundamental thing as keeping Dale safe. Still, that fear crouched inside her, turning her stomach and making her palms sweat.

She’d never had a mother. She was afraid she didn’t know how to be one.

Isabelle took a deep breath and pulled herself back together. She’d be afraid later. Right now she had to deal with this mess. Kids messed up. Parents corrected them. If she wanted to be a parent, that was her job.

She eased away from the comfort of Grant’s embrace and looked up at him. “He’s never going to make that same bad decision again. I promise you that.”

Grant gave her an approving nod. “I’m sure he won’t once he realizes he made you cry. There’s nothing worse on a young man than making a woman cry.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Between the two of us, who has more experience at being a young man?”

Isabelle let her head fall to Grant’s chest in frustration. “I don’t know if I’m the right person to do this.”