Page 50 of Stowaway Whirlwind
Davis rubs the small of my back and kisses my temple, dressed in a nicer version of his western wear with yet anotherdark red plaid button-down tucked into starched, dark blue jeans. “I like the sound of that—‘our porch’. We can look for one after our appointments tomorrow if you’re not too tired.”
Pleasure works its way up my spine, and I tip my head back, inviting a kiss on the lips. Davis removes his ball cap, wraps his arms around Lily and me, and pulls us closer. I get the feeling he wants to drag me back toourhouse so we can take this kiss further. I kind of want to let him.
“Aren’t y’all just the cutest.” We break apart at the feminine southern drawl from the older woman with shockingly white hair, though Davis leaves his hand where it is, having traveled to the top of my ass. “Oooh, let me see that sweet baby of yours,” she says, stepping out of the house in her light blue sweater set and matching pants.
Though she’s nothing like Mrs. Fitzroy with her skin kissed by the sun, a good foot and a half taller, and she doesn’t look half starved, I still feel protective. I keep Lily firmly cradled in my arms, and thankfully, the woman doesn’t attempt to take her from me.
“Hi there, honey. I’m Ellie Roberts, Wyatt’s mama. You’re Marigold?” I nod, and there’s nothing but warmth in her touch when she pats my hand and leans in to look at Lily in her pink fleece outfit patterned with mini smiling cherries. “She’s just about the prettiest little girl I’ve ever seen. And that red hair!” She looks directly into my eyes, the skin around hers deeply creased from smiling so much throughout her life. “Gorgeous, just like her mama.”
I instantly like her. When I thank her for the compliment and call herMrs. Roberts, she straightens and pats Davis on the cheek. “Davis is like family, which means you are, too, so how about you call me Ellie?”
I may have lived in Nevada for half my life, but I was raised by a southern woman, and I can envision the glare Aunt Lydiawould give me if I were to call an older woman by just her first name. She gives me an approving smile when I say, “Thank you, Ms. Ellie.”
Ms. Ellie motions us in to follow her, voices rising as we approach the brightly painted white kitchen. “Look who’s here,” she announces, and the group turns toward us as one. It’s a bit like walking into a classroom on the first day of attending a new school, and everyone stops and stares.
A bushy, dark-bearded Wyatt, dressed like a blue-collar emo in his dark flannel, black jeans, and huge steel-toe boots, takes his dark-blond son, William Davis, into his arms, relieving Dolly of his hefty weight. She rubs her back over her black and white polka dot maternity dress as she comes around the farmhouse-style kitchen table and pulls me into a tight hug, smelling like strawberries, her pregnant belly pressed against my empty one—a fact that leaves me feeling slightly envious, though I don’t want to examine that too closely.
“I’m glad you made it home safely. We were worried about you,” Dolly says, squeezing me before stepping back.
With Davis by my side in the chaotic but cozy environment, I finally lose some of the tension I’ve been walking around with ever since Davis came home after his conversation with Russell and told me we were having dinner with his friends.
Dolly, who looks maybe a few years older than me, with plump cheeks and expressive blue eyes, introduces me to her mom, Ms. Judy, who has taken over stirring whatever is in the pot at the stove. She’s the older, graying version of her daughter, wearing light blue jeans with a simply white T-shirt tucked into the waistband. Strangely, Ms. Judy only looks to be a few years older than Dolly’s husband. She’s also much more timid than Ms. Ellie. Still warm in her welcome but quieter.
Ms. Judy flinches and immediately puts a hand to her chest when Ms. Ellie appears behind her to hand her a porcelain gravyboat. Ms. Ellie’s face softens as she pulls Ms. Judy into a hug, murmuring something too low for me to hear. It’s clear the two women are close, anddamnif that doesn’t make me a little envious too. There’s so much love in this kitchen, and I wish I had women like this in my life. It makes me miss Aunt Lydia and her friends from the Stitch ‘N Bitch crochet club all the more. She would have been right at home here.
When Dolly asks if she can hold Lily, I’m relaxed enough to hand her over, though I hover nearby in case I need to snatch her and run. Dolly brings Lily to her ample chest and nuzzles her cheek, gushing about her red hair. Wyatt, who clapped hands with Davis after introductions, gives his wife a hot look that I recognize all too well. My cheeks flame right alongside Dolly’s.
She rolls her eyes and sweeps her hand over her belly. “I’m already pregnant.”
“Just how I like you, babygirl,” Wyatt responds with a husky voice. He has to bend almost in half to give Dolly a lengthy kiss right there in the middle of the kitchen with his giant hand on her giant belly and their giant son in his arms.
Davis steps behind me and pulls me against his chest, embracing me. Whether he’s conscious of it or not, one of his hands has come to rest over my belly, still soft and swollen after giving birth not even two months ago. My first impulse is to suck in my stomach, but I’m pretty that would lead to a spanking or two forthinking bad about myself.
I do it anyway.
Davis slips a hand between us to pinch my left asscheek. He whispers in my ear, “That’s one, baby.”
I step away from him, belly fluttering wildly, hoping no one can sense the desire welling inside me. I ask Wyatt if I can hold his son to take my mind off Davis and the promise of what he will do to me tonight. My knees almost give out when I place the boy on my hip, and Dolly giggles.
Straightening William’s black sweatshirt that has ridden up over his belly, I tickle his ribs to get him to smile. “How old is he?”
“He just turned two,” Wyatt proudly says, puffing out his chest.
My jaw drops. “Two? I thought he was—” I shut my mouth, fearing I might have offended them. By the time William is three years old, he might already be half my height, if not a little taller. My arms strain to hold him, and I drop into a chair at the long kitchen table that Davis pulls out for me so I can hold him more comfortably on my lap.
The sweet boy points to Lily with a smile. “Baby.” He tugs on my hair and points to Lily again. “Baby red.”
Dolly brings Lily closer and lowers her so William can see her better. “Say ‘hi’ to your new friend, Lily.”
“Hi.” William leans forward on my lap and gives Lily a slobbery kiss on the cheek that she squirms away from, and he pats her head a little too hard.
“Gentle hands,” Dolly says.
William opens his mouth in anOand lightly pets her hair. He whines and reaches for Lily when Dolly straightens, makinggimmehands until Dolly lowers her again.
“Alright, who’s hungry?” Ms. Ellie, with Wyatt’s help, starts plopping steaming dishes of pot roast, mashed potatoes with homemade gravy, roasted carrots, dinner rolls, and a side salad on the table. There’s hardly space left for our dinner plates and glasses of ice-cold sweet tea.
Dolly passes Lily to Davis, puts William in a highchair pushed up to the table, and then eases herself onto the seat across from me with Wyatt opposite Davis.
