Loralie seemed to have no desire to let go of his neck, so he grabbed what he could with one hand and had to make a few trips.
He could cook eggs and toast with one arm. Sure he could. Bacon was probably a bad idea though.
With some effort, he got the coffee started and was even working on cracking the eggs when Kevin came into the kitchen.
“There she is.” He moved to grab Loralie, but she grabbed tighter on to Ollie’s neck. “Come on, Lala. We need to get you dressed for school.”
“I want Ollie to get me dressed.”
“He’s fixing breakfast. Let me get you dressed.”
“Nooo,” she whined, but Ollie kissed the top of her head and untangled her.
“Let go, baby girl. I’ll make you eggs while Kevin gets you dressed.”
With a pout, she let go. Chris and Mark stumbled into the kitchen and went directly for the fridge.
“Sit,” he barked. “I’m making breakfast.”
“But I don’t like eggs,” Chris said.
“You do today.”
He sighed and laid his head down on the table. “Okay.”
“Ollie?” Mark said quietly. “Can I help?”
“Can you go let Murtry in? I think he’s scratching at the door.”
“Okay.”
Juggle this task. Don’t forget that one. He couldn’t have done it without Kevin’s help. But at seven thirty the kids were fed and the five of them headed to the bus stop a half mile from Allie’s house, Ollie managing to just barely squeeze into her minivan with all four kids piled in back.
“Backpacks!” Mark yelled just as they arrived at the bus stop.
Kevin’s eyes went wide. “They’re all at the house.”
“Shit.”
“That’s a bad word,” Loralie lisped. “You’ll get in trouble if you say that at school.”
“Don’t I know it,” Ollie said. “Okay, you guys get on the bus. I’ll grab the backpacks—”
“They’ll all be on the hooks by the door in the kitchen,” Kevin said. “They should be packed, ’cause we left them there on Friday.”
“I’ll grab them and drive them to school. They might be a little late, but they’ll be there.”
“What are we going to eat for lunch?” Chris asked.
“Shit!”
“You said it again, Ollie!” Loralie yelped.
“Don’t tell your mom. And… I’ll bring lunch too. With the backpacks. I’ll make sandwiches or something.”
He could see the dust from the school bus coming down the road. “Okay, you guys better get out of the car.” There were already three or four kids gathered and peering curiously at the large man in the minivan. Ollie got out and helped Loralie unbuckle her booster seat, then the four kids tumbled out of the van and onto the bus just before it sped off again.
It was only seven thirty a.m. and Ollie was already winded.
“How does she do this?”
He drove to Allie’s house and used her key to grab the four backpacks from the kitchen, along with two athletic bags that smelled suspiciously like his high school football locker. They’d been opened and rifled through, which pissed Ollie off all over again.
He took a deep breath and zipped them shut. He wasn’t sure what was in them, but judging from the smell, they were used regularly. Once he had everything he thought the kids might need for school, he threw it all in the minivan and headed back to his house.
He was halfway through four mangled PB&Js when he heard the door slam on the second floor. Feet skidded down the hallway and into the kitchen.
“What time is it and where are my children?” Allie stared at him with wide eyes. “What are you doing?”
“Making lunch. The kids are already on the bus, but their backpacks are in the car and I have to make their lunches.”
She glanced at the counter with a frown. “You’re making lunch?”
“I don’t have any fruit, so it’s sandwiches and chips, but I’ll ask Vicky to pick up some apples or something when she goes to the store today.”
Why did the bread keep tearing? Was he buying the wrong kind of peanut butter? Was it expired? Could peanut butter expire? He’d never noticed because he only used it to give the dog his pills.
He probably better not tell Allie that.
“You’re making them lunch.” Her voice had a distinctly watery sound, so he turned.
“I told you you needed to sleep more.”
“Ollie.” She walked over in her pj’s and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Thank you.”
He wanted to hug her back, but he was pretty sure his hands were sticky, though he had no idea how the peanut butter got everywhere like that. “You’re welcome.”
“Let me…” She attempted to take the knife from him. “I’ll finish. You have strawberry jelly in your beard.”
“That’s probably from Loralie at breakfast. She insisted on sharing her toast.”
Damn, she was beautiful like that, with her hair all fuzzy and piled on the top of her head, her smile crooked and sweet. He really wanted to kiss her.
“You made them breakfast.”
“I’m not helpless. I can make eggs. Anyone can scramble an egg.”
She wet a paper towel and cleaned off the spot of strawberry jelly before she tugged him down by the beard and laid a kiss on his cheek.
“Sweet man,” she murmured. “Chris can’t have peanut butter. There’s a boy in his class who’s allergic. Do you have any turkey?”
Totally worth it. Ollie stood frozen in his kitchen, still feeling her soft lips against his cheek.
Lack of sleep. Crazy rush. Shamefully cold cup of coffee reheated twice and still not drank.
Totally worth it all for that sleepy kiss.
“Ollie?”
“Huh?”
“Do you have any turkey or bologna or anything else we could use for Chris’s sandwich? He can’t have peanut butter.”
He filed the information away for future reference and went to the fridge. “Um… I have some leftover tri-tip?”
“Lucky boy,” she said, holding her hand out. “Tri-tip it is.”
He handed her the meat and went to look for some paper bags he remembered Jena leaving over one time. He found them in the pantry and set them on the counter next to the sandwich bags.
“How do you do this every day?” he asked, watching her cute little ass dance around his kitchen in her sleep shorts as she finished her kids’ lunches.
Yeah, he’d get up early to see that in the morning.
“You get used to it,” she said. “And Kevin’s a great helper.”
“I couldn’t have survived this morning without him.”
She looked over her shoulder and narrowed her eyes. “Scheming against me, huh?”
“Your oldest son and I have similar goals. He thinks you need to rest more too.”
“Hmm.”
He grabbed another mug and poured her a cup of coffee. “I called the school and explained about the house and the backpacks.”
“Thank you.”
“Told them you and the kids were staying with me for a while.”
Allie sighed. “I wish you hadn’t done that.”
“Why?”
“One, I don’t know how long we’re staying here. And two, do you know that Eula Quinn is the secretary there?”
“I thought the voice sounded familiar.”
“Everyone in town is going to know I’m staying here by the end of the school day.”
“And?”
She blushed. “People talk. That’s all.”
“Ignore people.”
“Easy to say when you’ve never been in the middle of nasty rumors, Ollie.”
She’d been the grist of the rumor mill before. Once, when she graduated high school pregnant with Joe’s baby, and again when her husband left her high and dry just as she’d pulled a meat loaf out of the oven.
Which told you everything you needed to know about Joe Russell
, in Ollie’s opinion, because Allie’s meat loaf was awesome.
“What are they going to say?” he asked, curious to see what would bother her most.
“You know exactly what they’re going to say.”
“That we’re shacking up?” he said with a grin. “Or that we’re fooling around so much in the mornings we’re forgetting to feed the children?”
“Ollie!”
He chuckled at her bright pink cheeks. “They can say what they want to say. And frankly, I’d rather the kids hear rumors about you and me than have kids gossiping about their dad.”
She grew quiet, and Ollie wished he hadn’t brought it up.
“Hey,” he said. “Know one of the great things about living in a small town?”
“What?”
“Everyone at that school knows about Joe by now. All the teachers. All the secretaries. You don’t have to repeat the story over and over. They got it. And while they might gossip behind their hands, they also care about your kids. So no sorry little snot is going to say anything mean to Mark or Chris or Loralie without a teacher or someone else smacking them for it.”
She nodded. “Good point.”
“And if they feel the need to gossip about me finally succumbing to your feminine wiles, that makes a much more interesting story, doesn’t it?”
“Ha!” She barked out a laugh and clapped a hand over her mouth when she snorted. “Feminine wiles. Right.”
“Don’t underestimate yourself.” He dropped his voice, reached behind her, and grabbed the lunches off the counter. “You’ve got plenty of wiles.”
Chapter Eleven
ALLIE STOOD IN THE WRECK of her living room with Jena at her back and decided she’d had quite enough. Enough heartache. Enough grief. And enough with the damn toilet in the kids bathroom that never seemed to flush.
Seeing two rolls of toilet paper carelessly tossed into the bowl by the intruders had been the last straw.
Allie turned to Jena. “Fuck Joe and all the criminals he hung out with.”
Jena bit her lip and put a hand over Becca’s ear. “Don’t make me get the swear jar.”
Allie threw her head back and yelled at the ceiling. “Have we hit the limit yet? Does it start to get better now? I’m ready anytime!”
“Allie—”
“Seriously?” She kicked a pile of papers that had been pulled off her desk in the living room. “I’m done. Done. These guys were probably looking for something Joe stole or… who knows? That man hadn’t been back to the house in a year. He hasn’t even been slinking around. I’d have smelled him.”
“Do you want to look on the bright side?”
“Not really. I always look on the bright side, and it doesn’t seem to get me anywhere.”
“You guys were gone,” Jena said quietly. “Allie, I don’t even want to think of what could have happened if—”
“No.” She held up a hand. “No no no. Okay. Bright side. You’re right. It could have been worse. And…” She kicked at the old couch which had been completely torn apart. “I hated that couch. Joe wanted to get it because it was on sale, but blue and yellow flowers? I mean, honestly. It was so ugly.”
“See? Another bright side.”
A memory tugged at the back of her mind. “I missed something last night.”
“What are you talking about?”
With a quick shiver, Allie shifted. She crawled out of the sundress that had piled on the floor and darted out the door.
“Allie, what…?”
She didn’t pause to explain. There had been something she sensed the night before. Something before she’d had to rush after the bear who’d charged in to rescue her.
Trotting around the edge of her property, she scented the humans again but got nothing more than she had the night before. Bad cologne, sweat, urine, and gunpowder.
She paused and listened to the wind. She could hear Jena setting up the portable play yard she’d brought for the baby before she started sorting through the trashed house. Allie scampered back, running along the foundation of the house.
There.
That cold, foreign scent ran under the porch. Allie followed it. She could hear Jena’s footsteps above her, hear the batting of Becca’s toys on the old hardwood floor.
The smell curled in one corner, just like the shifter had. Allie sniffed all around, then let out a low growl.
Snake.
Why wasn’t she surprised?
ALLIE’S old minivan protested as she made the sharp left that would take her up to Old Quinn’s place. She was furious, and the old man wasn’t going to brush her off this time, woman or not.
She pulled into his driveway, not caring how much dust she kicked up. Sean was sitting on the front porch when she marched up to it, covered in a fine layer of sand.
“Hey, Allie,” he sputtered out.
“Where is he?”
Sean raised an eyebrow but said nothing else. Just nodded toward the door.
Allie didn’t knock. She marched in and went straight to the television, which was tuned to CNN. She stood in front of it and glared at Old Quinn.
Quinn calmly picked up the remote and turned off the TV.
“Miss Allie, I heard about the kids’ daddy. Very sorry to hear about that.”
“You knew it was him.”
Old Quinn said nothing.
“What did you talk to Ollie about?”
“That’s between me and the bear.”
“No, it’s not. Not when my house was trashed last night and I found the scent of one of your clan lurking under it.”
His eyes narrowed. “How old was the scent?”
It was a fair question. On moon nights, the snakes hid everywhere. They would crawl anywhere they could get comfortable; it wasn’t the first time she’d smelled a snake under her house.
“New. She might have been there last night, but I was chasing humans away.”
“Species?”
She heard the screen door open and Sean walk in. Allie paused when she heard him.
“Who was it, Allie?” Sean asked in a low voice.
“Boa,” she said.
With a muttered curse, Sean slammed out of the house. A few minutes later, she heard his truck peel out.
“What did Maggie have to do with Joe?” she asked. “And why did she lead those men to my house?”
“How do you know she did?”
“Seems a little too much of a coincidence. What did you tell Ollie?”
Old Quinn sighed. “Maggie wasn’t fooling around with Joe. Not like that.”
“I don’t care if she was. What was she doing at my house?”
“Don’t rightly know. Expect Sean will figure that one out.”
“But you do know something.”
Old Quinn paused, his mouth turned down at the corners. “There was a poker game,” he finally said. “Humans in Palm Springs. High stakes. Maggie set it up for Joe to go.”
“A high-stakes game? Joe was good, but he didn’t have any money.”
Or had he? Had Joe been hiding money while she was forced to beg? The thought made her sick to her stomach.
Old Quinn shook his head. “Maggie and a couple of her cousins staked Joe because he owed them money.”
“How much was it?”
“Fifty-thousand-dollar buy-in.”
Allie’s eyes bugged out. “Are you kidding me?”
“Nope.”
Her knees gave out and she collapsed into the old recliner. “Joe owed Maggie that much?”
Where the hell had Maggie Quinn gotten fifty grand? Allie decided she probably didn’t want to know.
“Joe didn’t owe her that much, but that was the buy-in, so that’s what she staked him. If he’d won, he could have paid her back the stake, the money he owed her, and he’d still have a lot left over. Maggie said he wanted to give some of it to the kids, then he wanted to go to the East Coast. Start over.”
Allie’s heart sank again. So he had been planning to aban
don the kids. “How much do I owe Maggie?”
“This is why I didn’t want to tell you,” Old Quinn said with a glare. “You don’t owe her a damn thing. She’s done enough, and she won’t be bothering you for the money, you have my word on that.”
She could feel the headache threatening. “If Joe owed her—”
“Allison Smith, stop being a damn martyr.”
She blinked and stopped rubbing her forehead. “It’s not being a martyr to pay what you owe.”
“You didn’t create that debt, and you don’t owe her a damn thing.”
“I’m his widow.”
Old Quinn laughed. “You think Maggie was going to put that money on her taxes? Maybe take Joe to small-claims court if he didn’t pay up? She’d have done no such thing. I don’t know why she was at your house, but Maggie knows she did something stupid and Joe got killed because of it. I don’t think my niece is dumb enough to approach the men who might have killed him.”
“You’re sure it was because of that game?” Allie tapped her nails together.
“I’m sure it’s related. The problem is, not one of us”—Old Quinn leaned forward—“saw Joe again after that night. Not one of us knows what happened at that game. And no one, human or shifter, is talking.”
SHE didn’t see Sean before she left, and she wondered what special kind of torture his sister was putting him through. They weren’t full-blooded siblings, but they had the same father, even if he was a piece of shit. Sean had felt responsible for Maggie until he’d had to finish her fights one too many times.
He’d bugged out. Taken off in the night and gotten as far from Cambio Springs as he could. And now he was back. For how long, nobody—including Sean, she suspected—knew.
She drove to the bar, curious what Ollie would have to say about the game. She’d been mad at first but then realized the day that he’d learned about the poker game from Old Quinn was the very same day they’d learned that Joe was dead. It seemed so much longer, but really, it had only been five days.
Five gut-wrenching, horrifying, emotionally draining days.
Ollie’s truck was in the parking lot, along with a bike she didn’t recognize. She thought it might have been Jim’s, but she couldn’t be sure. She only knew she had limited time before she needed to get back to her wreck of a house if she was going to salvage enough of the kids’ clothes to make things livable at Ollie’s house.
Waking Hearts Page 13
