He nods, backing away as he clears his throat. “Dinner sounds amazing, and Priss?”
“Yeah, Wyatt?”
“Sprinkles could use a training session. He’s been awful obstinate lately.”
“On it,” she chirps, sprinting across the yard for the back door of his little house that’s looking a lot less like a fixer-upper with each passing day.
“Get over here, woman.” His ravenous gaze has me burning up with need.
“She could come back at any—”
“I just want a kiss,” he says, sauntering back toward me. My head rests against the cypress wall of his shop when he tips my chin up with a finger and his hungry lips descend on mine. He kisses me deeply, thoroughly, and with so much passion, I have horny tears building in my eyes when he finally forces himself to break away. “I’ve missed you, Whit. Don’t ever doubt that. If I didn’t have to have these damn things finished by tomorrow, there’s no way I’d have stayed away.”
“I know.” I cup his cheek in my hand. “You get back to it. I’m going to go get dinner started.”
“Careful…” He swats me on the ass with a flick of his T-shirt on my way out the door. When I turn back to see what he’s babbling about, he grins and says, “A man could get used to this.”
I leave him with a flirty wink and proceed to the house, floating on a cloud.
Upon entering, I’m greeted with the sound of Prissy and Sprinkles horseplaying in the living room. She truly loves that dog. It’s good to see her smiling and engaging with someone other than her grandparents and myself, even if her new friend is a miniature pony.
Wyatt’s house smells like him. Like leather and sunshine, sawdust and man. I can’t even look toward his bedroom without aching for his touch. I miss him. To the point it’s kinda scary. Two days isn’t long. Yet somehow it feels like a lifetime.
I busy myself with washing up the few dishes Wyatt left soaking in the sink. Then, I get right to work, browning and draining the meat and boiling noodles. After adding a couple of cans of Ragu—hey, I never said I was some master chef—I lower the heat and cover the pot.
With nothing left to do but make sure the house doesn’t catch fire, I plop down into a chair at the table and, for just a few minutes, allow myself to imagine what life here, in this house with Wyatt and Prissy, might be like.
“So, there’s something I wanted to talk to the two of you about,” Wyatt says, taking his seat beside me at the table after pulling out both mine and my little girl’s chairs. The scent of Irish Spring engulfs me. The ends of his hair are still dripping, and his fresh shirt is damp. Did no one ever teach this man how to dry himself?
I would be all too happy to volunteer for the job.
“What is it?” Prissy asks while I give his thigh a little squeeze under the table.
“It’s been recently brought to my attention that someone has a birthday coming up.”
“It’s me!” Prissy answers, bouncing in her chair. “I’m gonna be seven.” She Cabbage-Patches her arms in circles over her plate.
“I know.” He grins, clearly amused by her enthusiasm. “How would you feel about us taking a little trip?”
“Like a vacation?” she squeals, before turning to me with reluctance. Her face droops. “We don’t take vacations…”
I feel sick. The last thing I want is to have to be the one to disappoint them both. “Wyatt…I can’t just leave.”
“But what if you could?” he asks, not losing a bit of steam. He’s got a confident air that tells me he’s convinced this is already a done deal.
“You’ve seen what goes on at the funeral home on a day-to-day basis. It’s too unpredictable.” I swallow a lump. “People rely on us—on me.”
“Your parents are already onboard,” he announces before I can get too upset. “They think the two of you getting out of that depressing place for a few days is worth Marie coming out of retirement for just as many.”
“Really?” While she still helps out here and there, Momma was more than ready to retire when I took over. The stress of the job was beginning to take a real toll on her.
Wyatt leaves me to stir in my thoughts, while getting up from the table to retrieve a few brochures from the junk drawer in the kitchen. “Check it out,” he says handing one to each of us. “Great Bear Lodge. It’s an indoor waterpark where our little mermaid here can put her recent swimming lessons to good use.”
“Look at this big water slide, Momma!” Prissy is out of her mind with excitement.
“What about school?” I’m really not trying to be Debbie Downer—just thinking of anything that might prevent this trip from happening before allowing myself to get too excited.
“School.” Wyatt scoffs and rolls his eyes. “No one should have to go to class on their birthday.” He turns to my little girl, who gives her head an enthusiastic nod of agreement. “It’s a four-day weekend. She’d only have to miss two days. It’s not far—just outside of Dallas. We’ll travel at night…”
“Wow,” I sigh. “You’ve really thought this through.”
He reaches across the table for Prissy’s hand and to my lap for mine, giving them both a squeeze. “Well, what’d’ya say, Momma? Can we?” he asks, bringing his fingers together at a point beneath his chin. “Huh? Huh? Can we?”
“Can we?” Prissy joins in. “Huh? Huh?”
“Fine!” I shout, with a laugh. “When do you propose we take this trip?”
“Second weekend of February. Friday to Monday.”
I nod. “How much is it? When do we book?”
“Already taken care of,” he says, booping me on the nose. “Now let’s eat. I’m starving.”
We decide to make the trip to Great Bear Lodge in Whitney’s Camry, since it’s newer and more dependable than my old rust bucket. After dropping Sprinkles off to stay with Beau and Kate, we line up in carpool to scoop Prissy up from school and head out. With an eight-hour drive ahead of us, we aren’t wanting to waste any time waiting around for her bus.
“Free at last,” the little heathen chants when she throws her backpack on the seat and clambers in after it. This girl always looks like she got into a scuffle with a cat and lost by the time the school day ends. She has more hair out of her ponytail than in it.
“How was your day?” Whitney turns completely around in her seat to make sure Priss is buckled in properly. The restraint it takes not to reach out and slap that fine ass of hers… It’s practically begging for it, all firm and round in those tight-fitting jeans.
“It was good, but Mrs. Wyler said she’s gonna have a talk with you about responsible parenting when we get back.”
“Damn it, Prissy! You weren’t supposed to tell anyone about our trip.” With a loud harumph, the angry blonde flops back into her seat, effectively stealing my view while she refastens her belt. “What happened to pretending to have the flu?”
“I’m sorry, Momma. I’m just not a good liar like you.”