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“I can dry my own hair.” She was cross and wanted to cry.
“You’re an independent woman, got it. At the moment, though, you need help. So tell me what you’d like to eat.”
“It’s okay. I’ll get something in the morning…”
Ignoring her, he combed out her hair with infinite patience before he switched on the hairdryer.
Closing her eyes, she tried to keep upright, but she was so tired, her body slumped forward. Pulling her back against him, Mitch continued drying her hair. Leaning against his chest, she finally relaxed. She was feeling too poorly at the moment to argue with him, but she’d give him a piece of her mind when she was feeling better.
By the time he’d finished, she was just about asleep. Removing his arms from her, he moved her back against the pillows. “Come on, sweetheart, tell me what you want to eat?”
“It’s really not necessary…”
Bending down quickly, he kissed her. His lips were warm, trying to tell her something, but before she could figure out what, he was heading out of the room. “If you can’t decide, I’ll decide for you.”
Chapter Seventeen
When Mitch nextopened his eyes, it was broad daylight. He’d been sleep deprived when he’d arrived in Portland on Saturday, and over the last twenty-four hours, he hadn’t had much sleep either.
Riley. Dylan. He’d told Dylan to wake him up when he was still sleeping so what happened this morning?
Jumping out of bed, he headed toward Dylan’s room. Halfway down the corridor, though, he heard voices from the direction of the kitchen. Dylan and Riley.
She was dressed and standing in front of the stove. Dylan was sitting at the counter when he walked in.
“Uncle Mitch!” Dylan cried out, and climbing off his chair, he rushed toward Mitch. “Mommy isn’t sleeping anymore; she’s making pancakes.”
Mitch picked up the little boy and hugged him before he helped him back on his chair. “I can see that.”
Moving closer to her, his eyes slid over her. She was still way too pale, but at least there was a glimmer of a blush on her cheeks.
He touched her face. “Hi, how are you feeling?”
“Better, thanks. Shouldn’t you be teaching at the high school in Marietta, Montana?” Her eyes slid over his chest. “With a shirt on?”
Bending down, he kissed her. He hadn’t planned it, but there was no way he could be this close to her and not touch her. And when he touched her, he had to kiss her.
Her eyes were bright blue by the time he lifted his head. “I spoke to the principal yesterday.”
“But I’m fine now—you should go back.”
“Not before we talk.”
“So talk.”
“We’ll talk tonight when Dylan’s asleep.” He lowered his voice. “From what he’s dropped here and there, I gather he’s not attending school anymore?”
Groaning, she slid the batch of pancakes on to a plate. “Don’t remind me. I’ll have to find him another school, and it’s not that easy to get a good one that’s not too far from our house. You can have a pancake when you’ve put a shirt on.”
“Won’t you be tempted to get rid of it again?” he couldn’t help teasing.
She turned her back on him but not before he’d seen the flush creeping up her neck.
“Okay, I’ll go get dressed. Oh, by the way, thanks for the text. A pity you didn’t send it two months ago. It would’ve saved us both so much time.” Putting his hands on her shoulders, he dropped a kiss on her head before he headed toward the room where he’d put his stuff.
*
As soon asMitch had left the kitchen, Riley grabbed her phone. And lo and behold, the message she’d written to Mitch, right after her return from Craig and Annie’s wedding, had been sent.
