Page 16 of Hideaway Whirlwind
His brows dip. “Why?”
“Most people are uncomfortable talking about their finances,” she answers tiredly, peering up at me with a wary expression. “Others might be offended.”
“What’s ‘finances’?” Dustin asks.
“Money.”
Dustin nods, then turns to me. “So you got lots of money?” he asks with a yawn, crumbs falling from his mouth.
I half-bark a laugh and place a hand on Dustin’s shoulder. “I have what I need.” Though I guess in comparison to what he’s used to, I am rich, in more ways than one.
Birdie drags her hands down her face with a groan. “Don’tspeak with your mouth full.”
“But why?”
“Listen to your mama,” I tell him. “It’s polite to swallow first before speaking.”
“Sorry,” Birdie whispers.
I tip my head toward her, wishing she would come closer so I could touch her as casually as I do the kids, but with much different intent. “Don’t be. Kids are curious.”
Of course, Dustin hears that and runs with it. “How come you’re not married? My mommy’s not married. Are you getting married?”
“Oh man,” Birdie says with another groan.
The answer comes to me without pause while I try not to stare at Birdie.I would in a heartbeat, kiddo. Plenty of people have asked me the same question over the years.When are you going to start dating again? Aren’t you lonely out in the woods? What do you need that big house of yours for? I know a widow I could set you up with.It’s tiresome, and since I never answer, people should know better than to ask by now.
“Is this our house now?” Dustin continues. “Can I have my own room? And a dirt bike? And a puppy? And a tiger? Tigers are cool.”
Birdie claps her hands once to stop him. “Ok, bedtime, guys.” She looks off down the hallway that separates the kitchen from the living room. “Um…”
“I have a guest room y’all can stay in tonight,” I say, though I’ve never had any guests. Motioning to Sydney and Kendall to follow, I take their bag of clothes and all the blankets, then lead them down to the first of the two doors on the right that look out on the front yard, opposite the hall bathroom and laundry room on the left. “It’s not much,” I warn.
Birdie sits on the edge of the full-sized bed—the only piece of furniture in the room—and reaches for Kendall. “We have all we need,” she says with the hint of a grin. “Thank you.”
I grip the bronze door handle so hard I fear it’s going to break off in my hand, wishing I could stay with them, even risk throwing my back out by sleeping on the floor again, instead of having to leave them for the night.
“I’m at the end of the hall,” I say, tilting my head sideways.
“Got it,” she says, rolling her lips in between her teeth, tipping her chin up.
Chapter 8
Teagan
It’s a tight fit, squeezed altogether in the full-sized bed beneath two stacked plaid comforters after Elliott leaves us, letting me know he won’t be able to run the generator all night. We have to be sparing so we don’t run out of gas before he can get more, in case his brother’s house is out of power, too, which he said is most likely.
Now that I have my real first opportunity, especially after Elliott told me which bedroom is his with that look in his eye while lingering at my door, I debate whether I can go through with my plan since we’re no longer stuck at a motel with the kids.Yes, my mind whispers too quickly, the choice left up to me for once.
Deciding I should just get it over with instead of continuing to drive myself crazy, keeping me from falling asleep when I desperately need it, I stop off in the small hall bathroom with beautifully maintained wood-paneled walls and stone countertops and tiles like the rest of the gorgeous cabin. I’d told Dustin it was rude to ask Elliott about money, but in truth, I was just as curious, since the cabin looks like it’s steppedright out of an interior design magazine—sans any actual decor. Not even photographs.
I shuck my extra layers of clothing, leaving only Elliott’s flannel on for coverage, helped along by the extra weight I’ve carried around my mid-section after having children. Even if I might not exactly be Elliott’s type—though the way I’ve caught him staring at my chest a time or two leads me to believe I am—the fact that I’m willing and available will certainly go a long way…That’s if he can even get it up at his age.
Tiptoeing down the hallway to his room, I hesitate, the floorboard squeaking when I shift side to side. He undoubtedly heard me, so there’s no sense in dragging this out any longer…or slinking back to my room without going through with it. Taking a long, deep breath first, I push open Elliott’s bedroom door and slip inside, closing it behind me. In case any of the kids wake up and come looking for me, I find the lock on the doorknob and flip it.
“Birdie,” Elliott breathes out in afinally, you’re heremanner when I turn around, waiting while my eyes adjust in the near-total darkness with his blackout drapes pulled mostly closed around the windows that I think face the side yard. He’s been waiting up for me, like I knew he would.
I shuffle toward the bed without lifting my feet off the floor and with my arms held out in front of me so I don’t accidentally knock into any furniture in the unfamiliar room. Up and up, I skim my hands when my shins bump against the bedframe on the left side of the room, the mattress higher off the floor than the spare. Stepping onto the board running the length of the wooden frame, I haul myself up, the mattress dipping beneath my weight when I get my knees on the bed, then run my handsalong until I find his large body, my left hand landing on his hip.Ok, ok, ok, it’s happening. I’m really doing this.
