the mess. She righted the empty tumbler and dabbed at the milk.
While she was mopping up Ryan’s place, a rivulet of spilled milk reached the far edge of the round table and began to dribble into Bud’s lap. When he saw that his resident teddy bear was getting wet he clutched it to his chest and screeched in pure anguish.
Mitch shifted both plates to one hand long enough to grab the back of the boy’s chair and slide it away from the table. That helped. Milk continued to drip, but Bud was no longer directly in its path.
The paper towels Bree had started with were thoroughly saturated. She held them in place like a dam and reached her free hand to Mitch.
“Get me more towels. Quick! Before this runs all over the floor.”
“Too late,” he said, glancing at the spattered tile. “Don’t worry. Ryan will clean it up.”
“It wasn’t my fault the stupid milk fell over,” the boy argued.
Mitch was about to contradict him when he noticed movement below. He blinked, stared, shouted, “Hey! Who let the dog out?”
“The what?” Bree peered under the table. Her eyes widened. Barney was not only licking up the spill, he was standing directly beneath a waterfall of milk that was splashing his head and back. “What’s he doing in here?”
Ryan jumped down, dropped to his hands and knees and went into action. “No sweat, lady. I’ll get him.”
“No! Don’t chase him, he’ll…”
The dog darted through the archway and disappeared in a blur. Ryan was in hot pursuit.
Left behind, Bree shouted, “Don’t you dare let him shake!”
By this time, Bud had quieted down. He was making questionable use of his napkin, alternating between drying his bear and wiping his runny nose.
“Paper towels! Now!” Bree yelled at Mitch.
His answer didn’t sound a bit amiable. “Stop screaming.”
“How else can I make myself understood with all this noise? I’ve never heard anything like it.”
“Hey, the kids didn’t set the place on fire. You did.”
“Only because I got distracted helping you,” she argued. “I’ll take care of this mess. You go help Ryan catch that blasted dog before he trails milk all over the house.”
Mitch stiffened and gave her a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am. Don’t throw the extra pancakes away while I’m gone. We’ll put sugar on them, roll them up and take them outside to eat.”
“I wish you’d thought of that in the first place,” Bree grumbled.
Scowling, he nodded. “Yeah. Me, too.”
The impromptu picnic took place half an hour later. Mitch had buttered the pancakes, warmed them in the microwave, then added sugar before rolling them up and wrapping one end in a paper napkin.
His children seemed relieved to be eating outside. He certainly was. The less time he was forced to spend inside Brianne Bailey’s oh-so-perfect house, the better he’d like it. No wonder the boys couldn’t seem to stay out of trouble. Hanging around the estate was like trying to live in a pristine model home without giving away your presence.
Everything was arranged artistically, from the books on the coffee table to the pots and pans hanging in the kitchen. Little wonder she lived alone. No one else would be able to put up for long with her suffocating ideals.
Mitch saw that the dog was starting to wander off toward the forest, followed closely by both boys, so he called, “Hey! Don’t go too far.”
Naturally, all three ignored him. He wasn’t surprised about Barney, but the other two were supposed to listen. Rather than bellow at them when he didn’t have to, he decided to follow and see what they were up to.
They’d halted at the edge of the pond Mitch had objected to when he’d met Bree. The first thing he noticed was that Ryan was teaching his brother how to pitch rocks into the void.
The second thing he noted was the void. After the storm they’d had last night, that pond should have been full, or nearly so. Instead, it was little more than a brown puddle in the bottom
While she was mopping up Ryan’s place, a rivulet of spilled milk reached the far edge of the round table and began to dribble into Bud’s lap. When he saw that his resident teddy bear was getting wet he clutched it to his chest and screeched in pure anguish.
Mitch shifted both plates to one hand long enough to grab the back of the boy’s chair and slide it away from the table. That helped. Milk continued to drip, but Bud was no longer directly in its path.
The paper towels Bree had started with were thoroughly saturated. She held them in place like a dam and reached her free hand to Mitch.
“Get me more towels. Quick! Before this runs all over the floor.”
“Too late,” he said, glancing at the spattered tile. “Don’t worry. Ryan will clean it up.”
“It wasn’t my fault the stupid milk fell over,” the boy argued.
Mitch was about to contradict him when he noticed movement below. He blinked, stared, shouted, “Hey! Who let the dog out?”
“The what?” Bree peered under the table. Her eyes widened. Barney was not only licking up the spill, he was standing directly beneath a waterfall of milk that was splashing his head and back. “What’s he doing in here?”
Ryan jumped down, dropped to his hands and knees and went into action. “No sweat, lady. I’ll get him.”
“No! Don’t chase him, he’ll…”
The dog darted through the archway and disappeared in a blur. Ryan was in hot pursuit.
Left behind, Bree shouted, “Don’t you dare let him shake!”
By this time, Bud had quieted down. He was making questionable use of his napkin, alternating between drying his bear and wiping his runny nose.
“Paper towels! Now!” Bree yelled at Mitch.
His answer didn’t sound a bit amiable. “Stop screaming.”
“How else can I make myself understood with all this noise? I’ve never heard anything like it.”
“Hey, the kids didn’t set the place on fire. You did.”
“Only because I got distracted helping you,” she argued. “I’ll take care of this mess. You go help Ryan catch that blasted dog before he trails milk all over the house.”
Mitch stiffened and gave her a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am. Don’t throw the extra pancakes away while I’m gone. We’ll put sugar on them, roll them up and take them outside to eat.”
“I wish you’d thought of that in the first place,” Bree grumbled.
Scowling, he nodded. “Yeah. Me, too.”
The impromptu picnic took place half an hour later. Mitch had buttered the pancakes, warmed them in the microwave, then added sugar before rolling them up and wrapping one end in a paper napkin.
His children seemed relieved to be eating outside. He certainly was. The less time he was forced to spend inside Brianne Bailey’s oh-so-perfect house, the better he’d like it. No wonder the boys couldn’t seem to stay out of trouble. Hanging around the estate was like trying to live in a pristine model home without giving away your presence.
Everything was arranged artistically, from the books on the coffee table to the pots and pans hanging in the kitchen. Little wonder she lived alone. No one else would be able to put up for long with her suffocating ideals.
Mitch saw that the dog was starting to wander off toward the forest, followed closely by both boys, so he called, “Hey! Don’t go too far.”
Naturally, all three ignored him. He wasn’t surprised about Barney, but the other two were supposed to listen. Rather than bellow at them when he didn’t have to, he decided to follow and see what they were up to.
They’d halted at the edge of the pond Mitch had objected to when he’d met Bree. The first thing he noticed was that Ryan was teaching his brother how to pitch rocks into the void.
The second thing he noted was the void. After the storm they’d had last night, that pond should have been full, or nearly so. Instead, it was little more than a brown puddle in the bottom
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