Page 54 of Single Mom's Mountain Men
I don't know if Mitch has talked to his brothers yet, but I can see that they are giving each other a wide berth, with Wes shooting angry glares at Charlie when the latter isn't looking. However, when Wes meets my eyes he always smiles warmly, so I know he’s not mad at me. As for Charlie, he just avoids me, refusing eye contact on the rare occasion we’re in the same room, but he’s not hostile to me, which is probably as good as anyone is likely to get from the naturally taciturn Charlie.
The thought doesn't give me much comfort though. In fact, I think I would rather they were both mad at me but getting along with each other. If things were like that, I would probably feel less guilty.
As it is, I'm being consumed by remorse.
The next morning, neither of the men show up for breakfast. But surprisingly Mitch appears in the afternoon as the girls are finishing up their lunch.
“Uncle Mitch!” Katie says excitedly and Maddie climbs onto her seat jumping up.
He grins at the girls and says, “Hey, my little rascals. How did y’all sleep?”
“We slept real good,” Maddie says, mimicking his accent and he chuckles.
“Maddie no feet on the chair,” I say and she obediently hops off onto the floor running to Mitch.
“Up!” She says throwing her hands up and Mitch obliges.
“You don’t just say up,” I tell her, sternly. "You say please carry me.”
“Please carry me, Uncle Mitch, “she says but the effect is lost because Mitch has already swung her up before I could even finish my sentence and she’s now comfortably sitting on his hip, just like she belongs there.
Mitch walks to Katie and ruffles her hair, asking. “You finished your book?”
“Uh-huh.”
"Already?" Mitch's eyes widen. "You just started yesterday. You must be real smart, huh?”
"I am,” she says. “Mrs. Weatherby says I’m the fastest reader in preschool. She thinks I could be the next Albert Einstein, but I don't want to be a boring old scientist. I wanna be a writer."
Mitch beams down at her, a hint of pride in his gaze. "I think you'll be a great writer, Rascal."
“I wanna be a writer too," Maddie announces, frantic to regain Mitch's attention. "I read too!"
"I know, I know Squirrel." His gaze is soft as he brushes his lips against her cheek. It warms my heart to see. I can’t believe I thought Mitch was such a hard man before. With my daughters, he completely softens and he’s totally affectionate with them. My girls preen under the attention of all threemen, soaking in all the positive fatherly attention they never got from their actual father.
Even Katie, who is usually so shy around men, opens up with Mitch.
I'm glad for their relationship, but I'm wistful too.
This is the kind of father I should have given them. Not Keegan.
I'm worried it might be more damaging in the long term to let this attachment continue because it might make their eventual separation more painful. But there's nothing I can do about it now. I couldn't stop my girls from falling in love with these three men if I tried. And at the back of my mind, a little voice whispers to melike daughter, like motherbut I push it away.
When Mitch finally meets my gaze, he says, “I thought I would give you a ride today." It was a Saturday, so no daycare, but I wanted to go grocery shopping with the girls.
"Don't you have work?" Typically Charlie or Wes drives us. Even with my car all fixed up, one of them usually offers to take me, citing 'You're not used to the roads' as a reason.
"I have to meet with a marketing agency in town anyway," Mitch says. "And this way, we don't have to waste the gas.”
“Oh. Okay then,” I say. "I’d love to.”
It's my first time riding in a car with Mitch and though we’ve met and sat across from each other multiple times at the dinner table, the interior of his immaculately maintained, powder blue, forty-three year old Jeep Cherokee Chieftain creates a new and different kind of intimacy for us.
We're sitting mere inches apart, and the vehicle has a manual transmission, so I'm watching his hand on the stick shift, his finger subtly tapping on it as he navigates the road with one hand gently on the wheel, his elbow resting on thesill of the open window. He looks the very picture of masculine confidence, competence and capability. A man that could take onanythingand get the job done without making a big deal about it. A man who knows his own value, and who doesn’t need to look to others for his feelings of self-worth. The type of man that’s made America the great country it has become.
A flash of imagination sees that hand shifting just a little to wrap around my thigh, squeezing it. Then maybe traveling higher brushing the edge of my panties, slipping them to the side, burrowing deeper.
I swallow, trying not to squirm in my seat. I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately, why my hormones are all out of whack. The nerve of me to be here lusting after Mitch. I’m already facing enough problems with the two brothers I hooked up with. I can’t believe I’m here fantasizing about the third one.
