22. Phil
Phil
T his time, I stayed indoors with Dillon and Ruthie as Good Riddance Gnome Exterminators did their thing. Sedrick was outdoors with them, and I didn’t like it. I wanted him inside, with us.
“How long do you think it’ll take?” Dillon asked. His nose was pressed against the glass window. I could tell he wanted to ask Sedrick if he could go out with him but wisely kept that request to himself.
“I’m not sure.”
Ruthie was on the kitchen counter, and I wrapped an arm around her.
She was snuggled up tight against her brother, staring out the window.
Given the large hedge of thorns Peaches had called up, none of us could see much.
Mostly I stared at Sedrick’s back, taking the opportunity to drink in all that werewolf muscle.
I shifted, a little uncomfortable when my cock thickened.
“Those gnomes don’t stand a chance against all those ogres,” Dillon insisted.
It was another reason I was locked up indoors. We currently had five ogres stomping around in Sedrick’s garden. I’d already tempted fate with Mildred and didn’t feel like tempting it further.
Dillon sucked in a harsh breath, pulling away from the window. His eyes were wide, and Ruthie was his mirror image. “Did you see that?” He pointed at the window, never once looking my way.
Given my position, I couldn’t see much of anything. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t. What happened?”
“That ogre bent over, and when he came up, he had gnomes attached up to his elbows.”
“Attached? How?” I tried to get a peek, but I’d need to dislodge Dillon or Ruthie to see anything and didn’t want to do that. Besides, I’d already gotten up close and personal with enough gnomes to last me a lifetime.
Dillon swallowed hard and whispered, “Teeth. They were clinging to his arm with their teeth.”
I shuddered. Ogre skin was tough, probably the toughest of any of the species. Trolls were a distant second. I wasn’t sure how the exterminators worked. Was that it? Did ogres just reach into the ground, wait for the gnomes to try to defend their nest by biting, and pluck them out? And then what?
Dillon answered my unasked question. “He just tossed all those gnomes into a big, square box.” Dillon finally looked at me, and his eyes were as wide as ever.
“What do you think they do with them? Do they kill them?” Dillon didn’t seem overly upset by the idea.
Werewolves were meat eaters. They were hunters by nature.
Most likely, Dillon didn’t find the loss of life nearly as upsetting as I did.
Gnomes were nasty and dangerous, and we needed them gone, but I didn’t like to consider what that meant.
“I’m not sure,” I answered honestly. “Maybe your Uncle Sedrick knows. If not, we can ask Mr. Gladstone.” I’d been surprised when he’d shown up with the ogres. I didn’t think Titan Gladstone went out on too many calls.
Dillon gave a firm nod like that was a good enough answer.
I was glad because I didn’t want to think about it anymore.
The gnomes weren’t content to let me forget about them.
High-pitched screeching filled the air. It wasn’t as bad inside the house, but Dillon and Ruthie still clapped their hands over their ears.
Unlike the ogres, Sedrick was in my field of vision, and I watched him cringe and do the same thing.
I couldn’t imagine how horribly loud that was to his sensitive ears.
Sedrick reached behind him and grabbed a pair of ear covers Mr. Gladstone had given him. He slapped them over his ears, and Sedrick’s muscles visibly relaxed. Straightening, Sedrick continued watching the gnome retrieval.
The children didn’t have the same type of ear protection, but inside the house, the sound wasn’t as piercing. Dillon and Ruthie acted like it was more annoying than painful.
“How long do you think it’ll take?” Dillon asked, still avidly watching the goings-on in the garden.
“I’m not sure. From what I understand, there’s a large infestation. That probably takes time.” I hoped it wouldn’t add money too.
Sedrick didn’t share the cost with me, but I knew it was steep.
I’d offered to go without a paycheck or two.
My rent at the boarding house was paid up for the month.
It would tighten things and put off a few purchases, but the tradeoff would be well worth it.
Sedrick had looked offended at first. But that offense had morphed into a soft, understanding smile with a barely audible, “You just can’t help it, can you, Phil?
” Sedrick had told me not to worry and to expect my paycheck on time and for the agreed-upon amount.
I flushed, remembering the feel of his calloused fingertips as they brushed against my cheek, settling on my jaw and nearly touching my bottom lip. My fingers ghosted along that same line, the screeching wails of the gnomes momentarily forgotten.
“What do you think Mr. Gladstone’s talking to Uncle Sed about?
” Dillon’s question pulled me from my wanton memories.
Dillon glanced at me, beckoning me to focus on what was going on outside.
“Whatever it is, Uncle Sed doesn’t look happy.
I hope he’s not demanding more money.” Dillon huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. I didn’t think Sedrick had shared the cost with the kids, but Dillon was smart enough to understand what was going on in the garden wouldn’t be cheap.
I couldn’t argue. Sedrick looked very upset. He’d been understandably tense, but his posture changed to something different—something decidedly more feral.
“Uncle Sed looks like he’s about to shift.” Dillon sounded awed and wary. “It must be something really bad. Maybe they can’t get all the gnomes out.” Dillon’s earlier irritation was replaced by growing worry.
I placed a hand on the back of Dillon’s and Ruthie’s shoulders, steadying them. “There’s no sense worrying about it when we don’t know the details.” I watched Mr. Gladstone walk away, but Sedrick’s tension didn’t leave with him. “You know what I bet would make your uncle feel better?”
Dillon and Ruthie stared at me, eyes wide. “What?” Dillon asked.
“Cookies,” I answered, pulling Dillon off the counter before doing the same with Ruthie. “I imagine it’ll be a while before they’re done. Let’s use the time to make something sweet for your uncle.”
“Snickerdoodles?” Dillon asked hopefully.
I gave Dillon an indulgent smile. “That’s your favorite. Your uncle likes oatmeal raisin.”
Dillon’s nose crinkled, and he stuck a finger in his mouth, making a gagging sound. It was a bratty move, but I laughed anyway.
“Okay, let’s make both.”
Dillon shot a fist pump into the air, and Ruthie grinned wide enough to show her pearly whites.
I turned up the music, and the kids and I got to work. The music helped drown out the gnomes, and soon the scent of baking cookies distracted Dillon and Ruthie from the goings-on outside.
* * *
B y the time Good Riddance Gnome Exterminators left, dusk had settled on the horizon.
Mr. Gladstone shared some parting words with Sedrick.
I’d taken lunch and some cookies out to Sedrick earlier, but given the late hour, he had to be starving again.
Anticipating his hunger, I’d thawed some steaks, and Sedrick, Dillon, and Ruthie dug in with gusto while I ate a salad.
We sat at the kitchen table, just the four of us.
Dillon peppered Sedrick with a billion- and-one questions regarding the gnome extermination.
Sedrick answered as patiently as he could, though I could tell he was getting tired and his patience was beginning to wane.
The only thing I was terribly interested in hearing was that they’d managed to get all the gnomes and the garden was now clear.
Despite that good news, it was clear that something weighed heavily on Sedrick’s mind, something he didn’t want to share with the children.
Dillon had apparently forgotten about Sedrick’s earlier reaction to something Mr. Gladstone had said. I hadn’t. Whatever it had been, Sedrick didn’t bring it up at dinner, and I didn’t push, not with the children around.
Given the busy day, Dillon and Ruthie started to yawn, and we sent them to bed. Ruthie wanted to sleep in Dillon’s room tonight. They typically slept in the same room but alternated between hers and his. Sedrick didn’t say anything, and neither did I.
As tired as I was, I was glad I didn’t have to fly back to the boarding house tonight. My wounds were healing, but they were still sore, and the bruises would be present for a while. So far, there wasn’t any sign of infection, even from the bite Dillon had given me.
“Can I help with that?” Sedrick asked as I got ready to wash the dinner dishes. “You probably shouldn’t get your wounds wet in dirty water.” Sedrick scooted me out of the way, ignoring my protests. “How about you dry?”
“I can do both. There are rubber gloves under the sink that come up to my elbows. I can put them on over my bandages and—”
“You dry.” Sedrick threw a towel at me, ending anything else I might have said.
I huffed, but it didn’t sound anything like Dillon’s annoyed sounds. Evidently, I didn’t have anything on a seven-year-old were.
Sedrick and I washed and dried dishes in silence, but tension remained bunched in Sedrick’s shoulders.
His arm muscles were tight, and his body seemed to vibrate.
I wondered if that was the impending shift that Dillon had been going on about earlier.
I opened my mouth a couple of times with concerned words on my tongue’s tip.
None of those well-meant words escaped my lips.
Done with the dishes and everything put away, and the kitchen cleaned, Sedrick grabbed a couple of oatmeal raisin cookies and leaned against the kitchen counter. I thought he might speak up then, but instead, he just said, “We should change your bandages and clean your wounds.”