Page 24 of Kiss of Wrath

“Sam started the barbecue.”

“Linda said she wanted a hot dog.”

“Larry let the dog loose.”

“Ben hooked up the hose.”

“Maggie dropped the key that Ruff ate.”

Owl Girl, whose name was apparently Maggie, hissed with outrage, “It was an accident. I was trying to help Darla.”

“Well, you’re all going to clean it up,” he declared, “starting with that kitchen.”

There was some muttering, and Maggie said at his side, “That’s not fair. I didn’t—”

He glared at her. First, she wanted his help. Then, she wanted to tell him how to help.

She pressed her lips together, but she was not happy. She probably regretted having let him in the door.

As if he cared!

“Before you do anything, though, you need to get hosed off.”

The three boys smiled.

“And I am going to do the hosing.”

The smiling boys no longer smiled.

But just then, the boy in the red shirt said, “Holy shit! Look at Ruff. I ain’t never seen a dog do such a big dump before.”

“Swear jar, swear jar,” Blue Shirt hooted.

The huge dog was, indeed, squatting near the bushes at the side of the yard, doing his business. And it was an impressive dump.

“Someone better check his poop for the key,” Red Shirt pronounced, and five sets of eyes turned to him.

Fortunately, or not so fortunately, a female voice spoke sharply behind him. “What the hell is going on here? And who the hell are you?”

He turned as best he could with the girl still clinging to his thigh and almost staggered backward at what he saw. A woman with flaming red hair stood in the kitchen doorway holding a broom aloft, as a weapon, he supposed. She was glaring at him through icy green eyes, like a mother bear whose cubs were threatened. A red belt cinched in the narrow waist of a black linen dress on her tall, shapely figure. The dress came down to her knees, which were bare and led to smooth and softly curved calves, then shiny black high-heeled shoes.

He’d seen more beautiful women before. More voluptuous ones, too. But there was something different about this one, something he couldn’t quite define. Except that he knew one thing. Blood rushed from his wildly pumping heart to all his extremities, including the one that had been slumbering since oh, let’s say, the Dark Ages. For the first time in what seemed like forever, lust passed over him in waves so powerful he could scarce contain the urge to toss the wench over his shoulder and carry her to the nearest bed furs. The worm betwixt his legs became a snake, hard and huge and throbbing. He had to have this woman. He had to!

“You heard me, buster. Who the hell are you?” she demanded. “And where’s Darla?”

He was called back to his surroundings then, aware of the children watching his every move. Now was not the time for lustsome actions, or even lustsome thoughts. Later, he promised himself. For now, he knew that he had to choose his words carefully in responding to her question. But then, he recalled what Owl Girl had said to him on first opening the front door.

“I believe—” he started to say, then had to clear his husky throat. “I believe I am the answer to your prayers.”

Five

The answer to prayers comes in many forms, some bigger than others . . .

A short time ago, Miranda had walked into the kitchen, which appeared to have imploded onto itself, and turned off Nickelodeon’s annoying SpongeBob on the blaring television. No one had been around to notice.

Stepping up to the sink, she’d looked through the window to the backyard and had done a double take. She couldn’t believe what she’d been seeing.

To the right, an open barbecue, where the children had been expressly forbidden to touch the outside grill.