Chapter 10 #2
“Yeah, I thought I’d cook some noodles and red sauce to go with it, and then toast up the bread, and we can have a nice supper.”
“Sounds good. I’ll make a salad if you want.”
Mitch smiled at him — again. “Sounds great, just don’t— Well, you know.”
Yeah, he knew Rachel would cry if a single tomato seed got on her lettuce. She wanted lettuce, carrots, and cheese. Sarah, on the other hand, just wanted tomatoes, carrots, and cheese, no lettuce, thank you.
And all three of the girls would only eat salad if it had homemade ranch on it or at least expensive ranch.
He’d fussed at Mitch about it the first time Mitch had explained how he couldn’t simply put a bowl of salad on the table.
In fact, Mitch had said, “You have to choose your battles, man.”
Mitch had been right. Rebekka was easy, pretty much.
But it took Sarah a hundred years to pick the tomatoes, carrots, and cheese out of the bowl.
And little Rachel had cried—sobbed like her heart was breaking until her older sister got up, washed all of her lettuce off, and slammed it back down the table in front of her and told her to eat it.
Apparently at some point Sarah had explained to Rachel that tomato seeds were actually tiny bugs that would grow in her stomach and then climb up her spine and come out of her nose.
If it hadn’t been such pain in the ass, it would have been funny.
“I remember.” Cam wrinkled his nose and grinned. “The dramas of the salad.”
“Yeah, I know. The only thing that comes close, food-wise, is Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving angst is great.”
Cam raised an eyebrow. “I don’t want to know.”
“Yeah, well, fortunately I don’t have a choice but to know it.”
“Okay.” He glanced at Mitch, and the man was still smiling. Still. It was unnatural. Welcome, but unnatural. “You’re in a good mood.”
“I’m trying to be, yeah. Had a talk with my friend — you remember Mark Bray?”
“God, that’s a name out of the past.” Cam hadn’t thought about him for years. “He still in the service?”
“No, not anymore. He got out, went to college, and now he’s this super-engineer guy.
He builds robots. I mean— He even does robot battles sort of stuff on the weekends.
He’s a hoot.” Mitch’s smile warmed up his whole face and made his lower belly clench.
“Anyway— he’s one of my best friends, and he called to check on me.
Told me I needed to get my head out of my ass. ”
Oh, now that was something interesting. “Yeah? I think you’re all right.”
Mitch rolled his eyes. “Look, I know better. I’ve been kind of a dick.
Worse than that, I’ve been kind of a whiny titty baby, just acting like the whole world’s coming after me, and we all know that’s not true.
” Mitch shook his head and rolled his eyes.
“You know, I’m getting better. I can walk, I got feeling in my fingers and my toes, and I’ve had lots of good help.
I got lots of stuff to be grateful for.” He got a glance that was damn near heated. “Including you.”
Hell that was good.
Not that he wanted gratitude or any kind of groveling or anything for all the shit he was doing.
He just wanted Mitch to be back on his feet and feeling better…
and not fall off the roof again. But he did like the warmth in Mitch’s eyes and the smile on his face. That made it worthwhile him being here.
“If I’ve helped at all, man, I’m happy.” Cam figured that was maybe a platitude, but at the same time it was the truth. He wanted Mitch to know he was here of his own free will now, not because his mom had coerced him into it.
The longer Mitch stared at him, the more twitchy and hot he got around the collar, so he covered the tiny burst of confusion with pulling out bowls for separate little salads and grabbing all the shit out of the fridge to make them.
Mitch cleared his throat and started the pot of water to boil, but they kept bumping into each other, touching.
Bekka came thumping down the stairs, quite a feat for a young lady who was skinny as a rail. She was red-faced and scowling, holding an embroidery hoop, a needle, and thread. “Daddy, I need your help.”
“Okay, baby, what’s the matter?”
She burst into tears. “I can’t get the thing in the eye of the needle. I’m so mad.”
Mitch didn’t tense or tease; he went right to her, hugging her close. “Well, let’s figure this out. Don’t we have one of them threader things?”
“Threader thing?” She stared at him like he had two heads and was talking out of both mouths.
“You know, a thing that you thread your needle with?” Cam was trying to help. “It’s like a wire with a little silver dooly on it.”
“Right, one of them.” Mitch gave her a hopeful grin, and she stared at them both.
“Boys! You’re such boys. I just need this thread in the needle.”
Mitch pursed his lips, and Cam swore he could see smoke coming out of the man’s ears. “Okay, give me a piece of paper and a pair of scissors.”
Bekka put everything down on the kitchen table and then went to the desk, where she pulled out a piece of white paper and the huge pair of scissors that looked capable of spearing a moose.
“What are you up to, man?”
Mitch shot him a glance. “I’m fixing to make a needle threader.”
What? “How?”
“Same way we make everything else. Up. We make it up.” Mitch sat down at the head of the table, and it didn’t seem as painful this time. He cut a tiny little strip of paper and then folded it in half and stuck it through the eye of the needle.
“Okay. Now put the yarn you want in there.”
“It’s thread, Daddy.”
He rolled his eyes. “Put the thread you want in there, in the middle of the paper.”
She did and he slowly tugged it through, and Cam would be damned but he threaded that needle.
“Oh, Daddy! You so rock. Thank you.” She kissed his cheek and hugged him hard.
“You’re as welcome as flowers in May, baby. See, everything is going to be okay. Your daddy’s got this.” Mitch was pleased as all get-out. It was written all over his face.
Bekka kissed his cheek, then took her stuff and ran off, thread flapping from the needle as she went.
“That was quite a feat, Mitch. You’re her hero.”
“It’s not like she’s got anybody else.” He shrugged, his cheeks going pink. “I try real hard to make sure the kids have what they need.”
“And you do a great job. You really do. I know sometimes you don’t think so, especially right now, but I’ve seen you with them. They adore you.” Cam thought it was important to sort of prop Mitch up and make sure he knew how cool he was.
“Thanks.” Mitch bumped hips with him as he moved back to the stove. “I want to be their hero. I really do.”
Before he even realized he was moving, Cam reached out to take Mitch’s hand and turn him around to face him.
Mitch stared at him, his dark brown eyes wide, his lips parting, and Cam couldn’t resist. He had to bend down and kiss that mouth.
It had been too damn long since he’d really tasted Mitch, but everything flooded right back as soon as their lips came together. There was no denying it, and he had to fight the urge to push a hand up behind Mitch’s head. He didn’t want to put a kink in that poor sore neck and back.
Mitch grabbed his hips to keep him close and held on, kissing him back like he meant it.
And he guessed maybe Mitch did because they were cooking with gas all of a sudden.
Then it was hotter than anything that was going on on the stove, even though the water was starting to boil under the lid on the pot, steam pouring out of it, and he could hear the spit and hiss of meatballs giving off their juices in the oven.
Everything seemed to stand still for a minute. And yet everything felt huge and magnified, loud and bright.
When they pulled apart to breathe, Mitch was staring at him, his lips a bit swollen and those cheeks just as red as apples. “I—”
“Don’t.” Cam rubbed a thumb over Mitch’s lips. “The girls will be down for dinner soon, but I’m going to revisit this at some point. You hear me?”
Lips still parted, his breath coming fast, Mitch nodded, his pupils dilated to the point where they looked blown out. “I hear you.”
“Good deal.” Everything changed. That was the only constant in the world. But one thing hadn’t changed—how much he wanted Mitch. And he was going to have to figure out how they could both get what they wanted.
He had a feeling this was going to complicate things.