edge of the cabinet to make sure it wasn't smoldering too.
Over the screaming fire alarm, he heard Leigh Ann Baker's somehow calm, but firm voice as she talked into her cell phone, "No, Lester, I told you I'm not going to marry you, I don't care what my mama says. I'll pay you back for the ring, as soon as I have the money. Yes, I realize when the wedding is supposed to be. I'm sorry it isn't happening. I told mama that six weeks ago, she should have sent out notices already."
On the other side of the breakfast bar, Leigh Ann stood with her back to him, apparently oblivious to the fact she had almost burned down his house. Even though the fire in the skillet was out, more smoke filled the kitchen. Wes spun back toward the counter and saw smoke billowing out of the toaster.
With a growl, he ran over and yanked the cord out of the wall, then stomped around the breakfast bar to jerk the cell phone from Leigh Ann's hands. He disconnected the call before demanding, "Are you trying to burn down my damned house?!?"
Her tawny brows shot up over her blue eyes and her mouth dropped open. Trey ran up beside him and yanked on the towel around his hips. Wes caught it just before it fell to the ground. "Daddy what's burning?" Trey asked rubbing his eyes.
Wes closed his eyes and gathered his out of control adrenaline, then hugged Trey to his leg and said calmly, "It's okay now, go open the doors to the patio, and sit out there with Silas for a few minutes."
"Yes, sir," Trey replied with a cough, as he walked toward the French doors that led to the back deck. He grabbed Silas's collar and pulled him out with him.
Wes ground his teeth and handed the phone back to Leigh Ann. She covered her mouth with her hand and coughed too. "Oh, God, what's burning?"
"I don't think you'd have noticed if the house burned down around you," Wes hissed then coughed as the smoke closed off his airway. Picking up the towel from the counter, he fanned it toward the patio doors, hoping the smoke would dissipate quickly.
"I'm sorry...I was just trying to cook breakfast," she said in a wobbly voice that was followed by a moan as she scanned the kitchen. "I'll clean it up."
"Just go outside with Trey, and don't cook anymore. I'll clean it up," he barked, as he grabbed the skillet to carry it to the sink. He turned on the tap without thinking and hot grease jumped up onto his forearm. With a curse, Wes clamped his hand over the burn, gritting his teeth against the pain.
"Oh, Lord," Leigh Ann yelped. She ran to the refrigerator to pull out a couple of ice cubes, then ran back over to him. "Here, move your hand!" she demanded trying to pry his fingers from the wound.
She held the cold ice cubes to his skin, which eased the stinging, but nothing was going to extinguish the fire in the pit of his stomach fueled by his anger and fear. Leigh Ann Baker needed to get the hell away from him before he said something he wouldn't regret.
The best thing she could do right now was go outside.
"Wes, I'm so sorry...the phone rang and I should have ignored it, but I couldn't. He would have just kept calling."
"You could have killed us all, because you weren't paying attention, Leigh Ann," he admonished. "My son could have died."
A low-pitched whimper reached his ears and Wes looked down to meet her sorrow-filled gaze. Her full lips trembled as she told him again, "I'm very sorry, I promise to be more careful. I got that call and forgot about the bacon."
That call was the problem, in more ways than one. Who the hell had she been talking to? Was she engaged? Running from someone? Using his place to hide out? Wes had said he wouldn't ask questions, but he reconsidered that decision. If this guy was a nut case and after her, his son could be in danger too. "Who was that on the phone?"
"Um, Lester Fallon," she replied then grabbed his uninjured hand to drop the ice cubes in his palm. He put them back on
Over the screaming fire alarm, he heard Leigh Ann Baker's somehow calm, but firm voice as she talked into her cell phone, "No, Lester, I told you I'm not going to marry you, I don't care what my mama says. I'll pay you back for the ring, as soon as I have the money. Yes, I realize when the wedding is supposed to be. I'm sorry it isn't happening. I told mama that six weeks ago, she should have sent out notices already."
On the other side of the breakfast bar, Leigh Ann stood with her back to him, apparently oblivious to the fact she had almost burned down his house. Even though the fire in the skillet was out, more smoke filled the kitchen. Wes spun back toward the counter and saw smoke billowing out of the toaster.
With a growl, he ran over and yanked the cord out of the wall, then stomped around the breakfast bar to jerk the cell phone from Leigh Ann's hands. He disconnected the call before demanding, "Are you trying to burn down my damned house?!?"
Her tawny brows shot up over her blue eyes and her mouth dropped open. Trey ran up beside him and yanked on the towel around his hips. Wes caught it just before it fell to the ground. "Daddy what's burning?" Trey asked rubbing his eyes.
Wes closed his eyes and gathered his out of control adrenaline, then hugged Trey to his leg and said calmly, "It's okay now, go open the doors to the patio, and sit out there with Silas for a few minutes."
"Yes, sir," Trey replied with a cough, as he walked toward the French doors that led to the back deck. He grabbed Silas's collar and pulled him out with him.
Wes ground his teeth and handed the phone back to Leigh Ann. She covered her mouth with her hand and coughed too. "Oh, God, what's burning?"
"I don't think you'd have noticed if the house burned down around you," Wes hissed then coughed as the smoke closed off his airway. Picking up the towel from the counter, he fanned it toward the patio doors, hoping the smoke would dissipate quickly.
"I'm sorry...I was just trying to cook breakfast," she said in a wobbly voice that was followed by a moan as she scanned the kitchen. "I'll clean it up."
"Just go outside with Trey, and don't cook anymore. I'll clean it up," he barked, as he grabbed the skillet to carry it to the sink. He turned on the tap without thinking and hot grease jumped up onto his forearm. With a curse, Wes clamped his hand over the burn, gritting his teeth against the pain.
"Oh, Lord," Leigh Ann yelped. She ran to the refrigerator to pull out a couple of ice cubes, then ran back over to him. "Here, move your hand!" she demanded trying to pry his fingers from the wound.
She held the cold ice cubes to his skin, which eased the stinging, but nothing was going to extinguish the fire in the pit of his stomach fueled by his anger and fear. Leigh Ann Baker needed to get the hell away from him before he said something he wouldn't regret.
The best thing she could do right now was go outside.
"Wes, I'm so sorry...the phone rang and I should have ignored it, but I couldn't. He would have just kept calling."
"You could have killed us all, because you weren't paying attention, Leigh Ann," he admonished. "My son could have died."
A low-pitched whimper reached his ears and Wes looked down to meet her sorrow-filled gaze. Her full lips trembled as she told him again, "I'm very sorry, I promise to be more careful. I got that call and forgot about the bacon."
That call was the problem, in more ways than one. Who the hell had she been talking to? Was she engaged? Running from someone? Using his place to hide out? Wes had said he wouldn't ask questions, but he reconsidered that decision. If this guy was a nut case and after her, his son could be in danger too. "Who was that on the phone?"
"Um, Lester Fallon," she replied then grabbed his uninjured hand to drop the ice cubes in his palm. He put them back on
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