In fact, the damn horse had caught him right on the leg with a glancing blow. Nothing was fucked up, but it was still going to leave a pretty big bruise. He needed to go get that mare. That way he could start working with her too. Maybe Fire would straighten up and fly right if he was jealous.
He limped to the refrigerator and grabbed a beer, hoping it was five o’clock or so. That way he wouldn’t feel like a schlep.
The oven was on, and there was a pot on the stove with the lid on it. A loaf of bread was lying out on the counter, like French bread style. Dollar French bread from the grocery store, but still.
He peeked in the oven and he had to laugh out loud because there were meatballs in there on a tray lined with foil. Who was it Mitch had said cried every time they had meatballs? Sarah? He hoped to God she didn’t burst into tears. She was still an inkblot from Marlboro man country, but making friends with Teresa had brightened her up a bit.
He took a long drag on the beer before he washed his hands, cleaning out a nasty scrape he’d gotten while he was battling with a piece of barbed wire earlier in the day.
He heard Mitch walk into the kitchen and he turned around, surprised to see the man looking almost happy to see him. In fact, Mitch’s eye lines were all crinkled up and his lips were curved up at the corners. He wondered which girl had put that smile on Mitch’s face.
“Hey.” Mitch, frowned at his hand. “You cut yourself up pretty good.”
“Little bit, yeah, Fire kicked the shit out of me too. It was a rough day out there.” He wiped his hands on a towel. “Meatballs, huh?”
“Yeah, I thought I’d cook some noodles and red sauce to go with it, and then toast up the bread, and we can have a nice supper.”
“Sounds good. I’ll make a salad if you want.”
Mitch smiled at him — again. “Sounds great, just don’t— Well, you know.”
Yeah, he knew Rachel would cry if a single tomato seed got on her lettuce. She wanted lettuce, carrots, and cheese. Sarah, on the other hand, just wanted tomatoes, carrots, and cheese, no lettuce, thank you.
And all three of the girls would only eat salad if it had homemade ranch on it or at least expensive ranch.
He’d fussed at Mitch about it the first time Mitch had explained how he couldn’t simply put a bowl of salad on the table.
In fact, Mitch had said, “You have to choose your battles, man.”
Mitch had been right. Rebekka was easy, pretty much. But it took Sarah a hundred years to pick the tomatoes, carrots, and cheese out of the bowl. And little Rachel had cried—sobbed like her heart was breaking until her older sister got up, washed all of her lettuce off, and slammed it back down the table in front of her and told her to eat it.
Apparently at some point Sarah had explained to Rachel that tomato seeds were actually tiny bugs that would grow in her stomach and then climb up her spine and come out of her nose.
If it hadn’t been such pain in the ass, it would have been funny.
“I remember.” Cam wrinkled his nose and grinned. “The dramas of the salad.”
“Yeah, I know. The only thing that comes close, food-wise, is Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving angst is great.”
Cam raised an eyebrow. “I don’t want to know.”
“Yeah, well, fortunately I don’t have a choice but to know it.”
“Okay.” He glanced at Mitch, and the man was still smiling. Still. It was unnatural. Welcome, but unnatural. “You’re in a good mood.”
“I’m trying to be, yeah. Had a talk with my friend — you remember Mark Bray?”
“God, that’s a name out of the past.” Cam hadn’t thought about him for years. “He still in the service?”
“No, not anymore. He got out, went to college, and now he’s this super-engineer guy. He builds robots. I mean— He even does robot battles sort of stuff on the weekends. He’s a hoot.” Mitch’s smile warmed up his whole face and made his lower belly clench. “Anyway— he’s one of my best friends, and he called to check on me. Told me I needed to get my head out of my ass.”
Oh, now that was something interesting. “Yeah? I think you’re all right.”
Mitch rolled his eyes. “Look, I know better. I’ve been kind of a dick. Worse than that, I’ve been kind of a whiny titty baby, just acting like the whole world’s coming after me, and we all know that’s not true.” Mitch shook his head and rolled his eyes. “You know, I’m getting better. I can walk, I got feeling in my fingers and my toes, and I’ve had lots of good help. I got lots of stuff to be grateful for.” He got a glance that was damn near heated. “Including you.”
Hell that was good.
Not that he wanted gratitude or any kind of groveling or anything for all the shit he was doing. He just wanted Mitch to be back on his feet and feeling better… and not fall off the roofagain. But he did like the warmth in Mitch’s eyes and the smile on his face. That made it worthwhile him being here.
