“Who are you talking to, Mommy?”
Rachel jumped and then glanced at the kitchen doorway. Carissa stood there, wearing a long top and socks, her pale shins and knees peeking out where her leggings should have been. The outline under her shirt showed she’d at least left her underwear on instead of greeting company commando-style.
“Honey, what are you doing down here without any pants on?” Rachel asked instead of answering her question. “You’re supposed to be taking a bath right now. I already ran the water, and I said I’d be up to help you out in a few minutes.”
Her daughter wasn’t paying attention as she’d figured out for herself who’d been on the other end of the conversation she’d overheard. She scrambled past Rachel to greet their guest.
“Hi, Mr. Mick.”
“Hello, Carissa.”
Rachel slid a glance to Mick, who grinned back at her. She hadn’t identified which twin had entered the room, and yet he’d called the child by name. Unlike even some of their teachers after a few weeks in school, Mick could already tell them apart. He probably had no idea how important that was to identical twins. Or their mother.
“How did you…?” she mouthed the question to him.
He touched his cheekbone just beneath his right eye, the same spot where Carissa had a tiny freckle. Something Carly didn’t have. Rachel was still digesting that he’d taken the time to notice that little detail as Mick glanced down to speak to her child.
“Are you going to eat dinner with us?” Carissa asked. “We’re having spaghetti.”
“It smells really good, too.” He pointed to the saucepan and then the pasta pot. “Wasn’t it nice of your mom to invite me?”
She’d had to do something when Mick sent her the most information-deprived text she’d ever read.
Guess what I figured out today?
After her troubling conversation with Riley that morning, she wasn’t in the mood for any guessing games. She just wanted answers.
Carissa crossed her arms and tapped her stocking-clad foot on the floor. “We’re starving, but Mom said we had to wait to eat dinner untilafterwe took our baths.”
“Oh, she did, did she?” Mick grinned when he looked over at her again.
“We get to wash each other’s hair,” Carissa added, lifting her chin.
Rachel turned back to the stove, though the sauce didn’t need another stir, and the water in the pasta pot had yet to boil. She made a point of checking the oven that was warming for the frozen garlic bread she’d arranged on a tray.
When she turned back, Mick was bent at the waist, addressing her daughter.
“I’m pretty hungry, too. If you hurry and get cleaned up, I bet we can eat sooner. Anyway, aren’t you cold?” He pointed to her bare legs.
“We’re out of shampoo.”
Carissa shook the bottle that had been dangling from her hand since she’d entered the room. How Rachel had missed that, she wasn’t sure, though she’d probably glossed over many things while hunting for information that could help Riley. A search that no one, including her brother, wanted her to continue.
“I need to take care of this. Could you…” She gestured to the pots on the stove. “It’ll just take me a minute.”
“I’ll make sure everything doesn’t boil over,” Mick said.
She followed Carissa up the stairs and to the linen closet where she stored extra supplies in tubs on the top shelf. When she returned ten minutes later, she was surprised to find Mick in the dining area, setting the table.
“I thought you were going to—”
Having just arranged the final place setting, he lifted both hands. “Don’t worry. It’s all under control.”
She followed him into the kitchen, where she found the garlic bread in the oven and the spaghetti noodles already drained and back in the pan. Mick stepped to the stove and lowered the heat on the sauce to simmer.
“Looks like you’ve done this before.”
He lifted a brow as he looked back at her. “That shouldn’t surprise you. All firefighters can cook. It comes with the job.”
