“Oh, good. Maybe she’ll summon up a demon. Please let them know that, if they do summon someone, it should be something that doesn’t make the bathroom a mess. And it would be nice if it knew how to cook.”
“I’m on it!” She waved at Cam and then grabbed her yarn and hook and ran off.
Mitch grinned at him. “Oh, thank God. I’m never going to get this, and she wants to learn so bad. I don’t know anyone else who does it. So we’re learning”—Mitch made air quotes—“together. She wants to make sweaters. Can you imagine how much damn yarn and how many damn knots it takes to make a sweater?”
“Honestly, no. No, I hadn’t even considered it.” Because he was considering his damn laundry.
All his clothes were pink.
He didn’t need pink clothes.
This wasn’t breast cancer awareness week.
“I have a bit of a problem, man.”
“Okay, shoot. Something wrong with some of the critters?”
“No. No, it’s my socks and underwear and all. It was very sweet of Bekka to do my laundry, but I wasn’t expecting her to grab my laundry basket.”
Mitch’s lips twisted. The son of a bitch was laughing at him, he could tell.
“It’s not funny.”
“It’s kinda funny.” Mitch was barely holding it together.
“So what? Are you gonna replace all my clothes?” He knew full well Mitch didn’t have the money to do that.
Mitch’s lips tightened. “Sure, I will. Absolutely, and I’ll see if I can’t run it through with some bleach and get you at least something that won’t embarrass you.”
The laughter was gone, and Mitch was just as cold-faced as they come.
“Where was your laundry basket? Did she go into your room? She’s been told without question, none of the girls are allowed in your room.”
He shook his head. “Well no, it was in the bathroom. My laundry bag was in the bathroom.”
“All right, well I’ll tell her not to touch your things, and I will replace everything. Just send me a list or let me write you a check when you figure out how much I owe you.”
“Look, it’s not that I don’t appreciate her. But?—”
Mitch slashed the air with his hand. “No. There’s no but. I’ll tell her. I told you I would say something to her, and I will. She was trying to be helpful. She’s eleven motherfucking years old. I’m sorry she screwed up your goddamn laundry. You think I have a single pair of white briefs in my entire house? No. But you know what? She’s a little girl who’s trying desperately to help out in every way she can and she’s doing the goddamn laundry. So back off.”
Mitch stood, gathered the other ball of yarn and crochet hook in the iPad, and headed down the hall.
Shit. He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, feeling like a heel. But dammit, he hadn’t expected Bekka to grab hislaundry bag. If he’d thought about it, he would have taken the shirt right to the dry cleaner.
And now, somehow, he was the asshole.
“I’m sorry.” The words were soft behind him. “I promise I won’t touch your stuff again. I was just trying to be good. Can you tell Daddy that Rachel is napping and Sarah went to play with the dog? I’m going to be in my room.”
He closed his eyes, then turned to face her. “Oh, honey I?—”
She shook her head. Her poor face was white as a sheet. “I really am sorry. I was just trying to help out. Promise to God.”
Then she took off like a shot, leaving him standing there stunned and ashamed of himself. He felt like he’d kicked that little girl while she was down.
Well, damn it straight to hell.
He stood in the hallway waiting for Mitch to come back because, really, in the grand scheme of things, it was a bunch of underwear.
