Getting Hotter
Page 35
As the twins continued to argue, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Why don’t you go find your mother? She’s leaving for work in a couple of hours. Don’t you want to spend some time with her before she goes?”
Their bickering died abruptly.
“She’s on the phone,” Jason informed him.
“And we don’t like you,” Sophie added.
“So-phie!”
Seth swiftly held up his hand to silence them, not in the mood for round two. “Listen, kid.” He shot Sophie a look that usually made grown men cower, and yet didn’t get so much as a blink from the six-year-old. “I don’t care whether you like me or not.”
“That’s ’cause you don’t care ’bout anything,” she shot back. “Because you’re mean. And I don’t like it here!”
“Soph!” Jason’s face was so red he looked like a little dark-haired tomato.
“It’s fine,” Seth told the boy. “Look, it doesn’t matter anyway, because you guys won’t be here for much longer. You’re going back to your place tomorrow or the day after, remember? And FYI, I’m not mean.”
Sophie smirked. “Are too.”
“Are not.”
“Are too.”
Holy sweet baby Jesus, was he actually playing the Are-Not Game with a six-year-old?
Gritting his teeth, he fixed both children with a stern glare, pointed to the stairs and said, “Go find your mom. Now.”
This time the look did the job. The tone must have helped too, because the kids shot to their feet and hurried up the stairs like they were being chased by bloodhounds.
Once they were gone, Seth let out a breath. Well, that had been unpleasant. And now he’d lost all enthusiasm for his workout.
Muttering a string of curses, he headed upstairs and emerged in the kitchen, where he found Dylan at the counter preparing a turkey sandwich.
“Did you really just tell those angel-faced children that you hated them?”
Seth’s jaw fell open. “What are you talking about?”
“They just came running through here like bats out of hell. Sophie said you told them you hated them.”
Lying little imp.
“I did no such thing,” he muttered.
Dylan had the nerve to grin. “I like that kid. She’s got spunk. Wish she was around all the time, just so I’d get to see that angry, pulsing vein in your forehead more often.”
“Well, we might be around a while longer,” Miranda spoke up from the doorway.
Seth turned as she walked in with a twin on either side. Visible lines of unhappiness marred her mouth, and her hazel eyes glimmered with frustration.
“I just got off the phone with our landlord,” she explained. “There’s been a delay, and now he says we can’t move back in for another week.”
Seth frowned. “What happened?”
“I was too upset to pay attention to the details, but Marco said there was more damage than they thought, and something about ordering more materials. I don’t know. Oh, and apparently the living room wall, the one right underneath the gutters? The drywall and insulation need to be torn out and replaced.”
“That sucks.” Sympathy rang from Dylan’s tone.
She made an angry noise. “I knew those construction guys were acting weird when I was there earlier today. I kept asking what was wrong, but they wouldn’t answer me.”
Her misery was written all over her pretty face, which made her appear younger. Actually, no, it made her look her age. Normally, he completely forgot that she was only twenty-four—she carried herself with a maturity that surpassed her years—but when her eyes filled with unshed tears and her lips quivered with frustration, her youth was unmistakable. It made him want to pull her into his arms and hold her close.
“It’ll be all right,” he said gruffly. “You guys can stay here as long as you need.” He glanced at his roommate. “Right?”
“Right.” Dylan got a funny look on his face. “I’ll even let you have my room, so you’re more comfortable.”
“Oh no, please, you don’t have to do that. I’m fine bunking in the guest room with the twins.”
But Dylan was adamant. “That double bed can’t be big enough for all three of you. It’s all right, honey, I’ve got a friend with a spare room, and he already said I can crash there whenever I need.”
“I can’t put you out of your own home.” Her voice trembled. “I refuse to inconvenience you.”
“It’s no inconvenience. Besides, I could use a change of scenery.”
Seth studied Dylan’s chiseled features, wondering why he seemed so eager to leave. He must have been talking about Jackson—Texas was the only one Seth knew with an extra room—but why the hurry to move in with the guy?
In all honesty, Seth would prefer it if Dylan stayed home. The dude was amazing with Miranda’s rugrats. He watched movies with them, joked around with them, even gave them piggyback rides on command. Without Dylan there to entertain the kids, Seth would be forced to spend more time with them.
But it was clear Dylan was dead set on jumping ship.
Asshole.
“I’ll make up the bed and get the room ready for you,” Dylan told Miranda. “And quit arguing. As long as you’re staying here, you deserve your own room, okay?”
“Okay,” she said weakly.
Their bickering died abruptly.
“She’s on the phone,” Jason informed him.
“And we don’t like you,” Sophie added.
“So-phie!”
Seth swiftly held up his hand to silence them, not in the mood for round two. “Listen, kid.” He shot Sophie a look that usually made grown men cower, and yet didn’t get so much as a blink from the six-year-old. “I don’t care whether you like me or not.”
“That’s ’cause you don’t care ’bout anything,” she shot back. “Because you’re mean. And I don’t like it here!”
“Soph!” Jason’s face was so red he looked like a little dark-haired tomato.
“It’s fine,” Seth told the boy. “Look, it doesn’t matter anyway, because you guys won’t be here for much longer. You’re going back to your place tomorrow or the day after, remember? And FYI, I’m not mean.”
Sophie smirked. “Are too.”
“Are not.”
“Are too.”
Holy sweet baby Jesus, was he actually playing the Are-Not Game with a six-year-old?
Gritting his teeth, he fixed both children with a stern glare, pointed to the stairs and said, “Go find your mom. Now.”
This time the look did the job. The tone must have helped too, because the kids shot to their feet and hurried up the stairs like they were being chased by bloodhounds.
Once they were gone, Seth let out a breath. Well, that had been unpleasant. And now he’d lost all enthusiasm for his workout.
Muttering a string of curses, he headed upstairs and emerged in the kitchen, where he found Dylan at the counter preparing a turkey sandwich.
“Did you really just tell those angel-faced children that you hated them?”
Seth’s jaw fell open. “What are you talking about?”
“They just came running through here like bats out of hell. Sophie said you told them you hated them.”
Lying little imp.
“I did no such thing,” he muttered.
Dylan had the nerve to grin. “I like that kid. She’s got spunk. Wish she was around all the time, just so I’d get to see that angry, pulsing vein in your forehead more often.”
“Well, we might be around a while longer,” Miranda spoke up from the doorway.
Seth turned as she walked in with a twin on either side. Visible lines of unhappiness marred her mouth, and her hazel eyes glimmered with frustration.
“I just got off the phone with our landlord,” she explained. “There’s been a delay, and now he says we can’t move back in for another week.”
Seth frowned. “What happened?”
“I was too upset to pay attention to the details, but Marco said there was more damage than they thought, and something about ordering more materials. I don’t know. Oh, and apparently the living room wall, the one right underneath the gutters? The drywall and insulation need to be torn out and replaced.”
“That sucks.” Sympathy rang from Dylan’s tone.
She made an angry noise. “I knew those construction guys were acting weird when I was there earlier today. I kept asking what was wrong, but they wouldn’t answer me.”
Her misery was written all over her pretty face, which made her appear younger. Actually, no, it made her look her age. Normally, he completely forgot that she was only twenty-four—she carried herself with a maturity that surpassed her years—but when her eyes filled with unshed tears and her lips quivered with frustration, her youth was unmistakable. It made him want to pull her into his arms and hold her close.
“It’ll be all right,” he said gruffly. “You guys can stay here as long as you need.” He glanced at his roommate. “Right?”
“Right.” Dylan got a funny look on his face. “I’ll even let you have my room, so you’re more comfortable.”
“Oh no, please, you don’t have to do that. I’m fine bunking in the guest room with the twins.”
But Dylan was adamant. “That double bed can’t be big enough for all three of you. It’s all right, honey, I’ve got a friend with a spare room, and he already said I can crash there whenever I need.”
“I can’t put you out of your own home.” Her voice trembled. “I refuse to inconvenience you.”
“It’s no inconvenience. Besides, I could use a change of scenery.”
Seth studied Dylan’s chiseled features, wondering why he seemed so eager to leave. He must have been talking about Jackson—Texas was the only one Seth knew with an extra room—but why the hurry to move in with the guy?
In all honesty, Seth would prefer it if Dylan stayed home. The dude was amazing with Miranda’s rugrats. He watched movies with them, joked around with them, even gave them piggyback rides on command. Without Dylan there to entertain the kids, Seth would be forced to spend more time with them.
But it was clear Dylan was dead set on jumping ship.
Asshole.
“I’ll make up the bed and get the room ready for you,” Dylan told Miranda. “And quit arguing. As long as you’re staying here, you deserve your own room, okay?”
“Okay,” she said weakly.
