Page 25 of For Him

I swung my head to face Weston as he immediately went quiet and cleared his throat, pretending that he hadn’t just laughed at my immature joke.

“I’m so sorry.” I grimaced and he grinned widely, the edges of his eyes crinkling.

“Why—” He cleared his throat again.

“Why are you—” He closed his mouth, stopping the second wave of laughter that was rising again.

“Don’t apologize.” He inhaled deeply and regained his composure. “Though I did not expect you to ever say something like that.”

I cracked a less embarrassed smile and opened my mouth to speak, just as a pounding sounded on the front door.

Seriousness swooped into the room, blanketing over any lightheartedness that was left.

Another round of knocking set a thick silence upon us. Weston slowly stood up, his hand slinking to his waistband where I noticed for the first time ever a handgun was holstered. Something I assumed he carried with him almost all the time, as there was a faded impression where it sat.

Knocking sounded once more as Weston arrived at the front door, and his fingers tightened around the knob. Who in their right mind would be all the way up here in this storm? One last glance towards me, he threw open the door, ripping the weapon from its holster.

And then it was immediately returned as both Weston and I stared in shock at the figure standing in the doorway.

Chapter 12

Asmall, freckled boy with bright, rosy-crimson cheeks and nose stood shaking and wet in the doorway. His cowboy hat gripped between his fingers with a hood pulled over his curly, dark red hair. Big blue eyes stared up at Weston, fright covering his soft, boyish features.

Suddenly, Weston’s hands wrapped around the boy's shoulders, and he ripped the kid around into the house, kicking the door closed.

“What are you doing?!” Weston yelled as the boy stomped off the snow from his clothing in the entranceway. A wet pair of jeans over boots that were soaked so badly you could hear an audible squish of moisture with every step.

“Your mother is going to kill me when she finds out you’re here. Does she evenknowyou’re here?” he snarled again, helping the boy pull off his wet coat and boots.

The boy shook his head. “I heard you talking earlier to Uncle Cassidy about the vet coming out to check on Eugene after you found that poison stuff. So when she arrived, I followed along wanting to watch.” His teeth clacked as he spoke, frozen stiff.

“Keaton, did you walk this entire way?” Weston asked, crouching down in front of the boy who now wore only his wet jeans and a less wet sweatshirt. The boy nodded. “Does maybe your dad know you’re here?”

“No. I didn’t think it would be necessary to tell him or Mom.” he mumbled, knowing he did something wrong.

“Well, go call your mom. I may be her big brother, but she will kick the living tar out of me if she thinks I got you in some sort of trouble.” Weston placed a hand on the back of Keaton’s head, pushing him towards the sitting room. That’s when I saw a landline phone with an actual cord hung against the wall near the fireplace.

Glancing towards Weston who clenched his jaw and crossed his arms in front of his chest, I blinked in surprise. “Does that thing still work?” I asked, and Weston’s blue eyes shifted to me as Keaton pulled the white phone down from the wall.

“Only thing that will up here. Cell phones don’t work this far up the mountain, even without a storm,” Weston replied and walked my way, once again joining me on a stool at the island. Keaton began speaking into the phone, twisting the cord around his fingers.

“So, his mom is your sister?”

Weston nodded. “The red hair comes from his dad.”

“I heard that the only reason he married your sister was to be able to work here,” I replied, and Weston shook his head with a crooked smile.

“Pearl married my best friend, Cash. He’d already been working for me when Pearl came home from college and she realized that he wasn’t that bad of a looker,” Weston replied as Keaton hung up the phone and turned to face the two of us.

“Mom’s mad, but grateful I’m safe,” he muttered, shuffling this way.

“Could I borrow the phone to call my parents?” I asked Weston, who nodded yes and pushed himself off of the stool.

“How ‘bout we cook something for dinner?” he asked Keaton, who grinned as they headed towards the fridge while I made my way to the phone. Realizing that I was stuck here until the storm passed, I felt I should let my parents know so they wouldn’t worry.

The dial tone was loud as I stuck it against my ear and typed my mom’s number into the phone. It only rang twice before a frantic “hello” came through the line.

“Hey, Mama.” I said and a gasp came from her.