“Um, you—you did?” Aurora stammers, her gaze flickering to mine, unsure.
“Yep. He’s hungry, and I told him about the noodle soup you made, and he really wants to try it.”
I cover my mouth with the palm of my hand, trying hard to suppress the laugh that’s threatening to spill. This kid…
Aurora clears her throat, clearly conflicted about the situation and if I was be a better man like the world thinks I am, I’d gracefully back out, giving her an easy out. But I’m not a better man. Not when it comes to this woman it seems.
Fuck, I should back out, if not for her sanity then for my own.
After a few seconds, she must realize there’s no way out of this and sighs, plastering a fake smile on her porcelain face. “Okay, I guess noodle soup it is. I’ll be right back.”
A moment later, she returns with her flimsy winter coat, a large knit scarf and her bag, motioning for Emett to get down and dresses him up as well. “Um, I guess we’ll see you at our house,” she tells me and ushers him out the door.
I leave a bill for my juice before following them out, but as soon as we step out, I realize her duct tape car isn’t here, and sure enough, Aurora and Emett start walking down the street on foot. His small hand in hers as he tells her something animatedly.
“Aurora,” I snap. I don’t mean to snap, but what is she thinking, walking alone in the dark and on such a cold night too?
They’ll freeze. They’ll get killed. They’ll be gone. Again.
Aurora stops at the sound of my tone and looks over her shoulder, her brows furrowed. “What?”
“Where is your car?”
“I thought you didn’t consider it a car.”
“I still don’t,” I scowl. “But it’s better than walking.”
“We like walking,” she says defiantly, at the same time as Emett pipes up, “It ate all the gas already. We don’t have any more.”
Aurora sends a scowl Emett’s way, but my body starts vibrating. She doesn’t have enough to fill up her car, yet I insinuated she should get a new one because that one is shit.
Fuck.
I take my keys out, the truck waking up with a small beep and a flash of headlights.
“Get in the truck.” I know my tone is too gruff, but it’s the best I can do when the blood in my veins is simmering.
Aurora throws me a look, and I already know that whatever comes out of those perfectly plush lips won’t be something I like.
“We don’t need your charity.”
“Aurora,” I snap again, louder this time and she narrows those magnetic eyes on me. “Get in the truck. Please.” When she makes no move to do so, I sigh. “I’m going there anyway, aren’t I?”
When was the last time I had to beg a woman to get into my car?
My wife. At the very beginning of our relationship when she was playing hard to get. I had to beg and chase around her like a lost puppy.
Is this history repeating itself? A silent shudder runs through me at the thought.
“Come on, Mommy. My little toes are getting a little cold. I think I put on the wrong pair of socks today,” Emett pleads, and that does it because Aurora’s face softens, despite both of us being well aware Emett just made it up.
Reluctantly, she crosses the street to where I’ve parked my truck, and Emett squeals with excitement. “It’s so big!”
I have no idea where I find the humor inside myself, but I start to laugh, my mind coming up with the most basic male response to that statement, and Aurora cuts me a look. “Don’t even think about it.”
“What?” I ask, mock innocence dripping from the word and she rolls her eyes.
“No wonder you and Emett get along so well. The maturity level is clearly about the same.”
