Ron's the one to walk through the door first, though he pauses to give Bun—who's ignoring him for noodle-head on the TV—a strange look before heading for the bathroom.
"I'm taking a shower," he says, deliberately raising his voice a little.
The ungrateful and obsessed toddler shouts, "Bye!" as she scoots a little closer to the TV, her limbs waving in an uncoordinated attempt to follow the dance moves.
Ron shoots an even stranger look, one I interpret as she used to love before you ca along and now you're corrupting her with this?, but I hope my telepathy with the older kid is on the fritz and I'm wrong.
"I'll heat up so leftovers—"
"I already ate," he calls over his shoulder as he disappears into the other bathroom.
Jer and Sara, anwhile, don't even care about Ron, too busy peering out the window still.
"Is he coming in?" Jer stage whispers to his sister.
"I don't know. Maybe he's just going to live in the driveway?" Sara answers with extre doubt, switching to a new section of glass as if that will give her a better idea of what's going on.
Randy settles into the kitchen with a dish towel, wiping crumbs off the counters as he says, "I'll make sure he gets food when he's done. The kids will be fine for ten minutes if you wish to say hello to the High Alpha."
He acts so calm, like he isn't burning with curiosity over our relationship, and my lips twitch a little. He and Dylan seem far too excited over their alpha being mated…
Excited enough to ignore my identity as a human, despite how clear their disdain was for us just the other day.
It makes wonder how long they've been hoping for him to have a mate, and how they can throw their dignity to the ground to accept any mate at all.
"I'll be back, then."
My heart skips a thrilled beat as I hustle out the door, pushing it shut behind with a firm click.
It feels a little like I'm sneaking out, despite Randy knowing exactly whose truck I'm rushing toward.
The headlights are off, but the engine purrs. For a second, I hang back, mories of our last little… romp… in the truck flooding my head. Caine isn't expecting round two, is he?
Because I am… against it. Yes. I'm a responsible mother who would definitely not canoodle in the truck when she has children peering out the window.
Then again, maybe Caine could drive off to a secluded little…
No! I'm against it. I'm a responsible mother and sex is definitely not going to distract from being one. Clenching my hands and breathing in the night air, I've got myself convinced we're just saying a brief hello and goodbye when my phone buzzes, distracting from my ntal gymnastics.
Expecting it to be Lyre or the App, I pull out my phone, only to shiver at the ssage on my screen.
[CAINE: Get over here.]
The glow of my phone casts blue shadows across my face as I stare at Caine's text. Three words. That's all it takes for my stomach to clench and my pulse to skip.
The man's a dictator. And yet…
I slip the phone back into my pocket and glance toward the RV. With the blinds up and the lights on, it's easy to see Sara and Jer still plastered to the glass, peering outside with curiosity and tracking my every move like baby versions of FBI agents.
My body still hums with the mory of last night, but my brain conjures up a ntal spray bottle and spritzes down those thoughts imdiately.
No. Bad Grace. Naughty girl, calm yourself down.
I take a deep breath, willing my pulse to slow.
With purposefully light steps, I cross to the passenger side of the truck and open the door, peering inside with what I hope is casual nonchalance and not a lascivious stare as my eyes zero in on how his muscular thighs fill his jeans.
Drool.
"Aren't you coming in?" I ask, my voice remarkably steady for the lewd thoughts running through my brain. "The kids want to say hi."
Yes, yes. Bring the kids front and center so I don't jump into the vehicle and make my way into his lap to do sothing I'll regret later.
For the timing, to clarify. Not for the action.
The action… I'm willing.
The timing, less so.
Caine sits motionless behind the wheel, one arm draped loosely over it as he turns to look at . His face is sharp in the interior light, his brooding stare a little darker than normal.
"Get in," he says.
I glance back at the RV, where two curious pairs of eyeballs are still watching. "We can't just—"
"Just five minutes, Grace."
My spine turns into a limp noodle with the way his voice caresses my na, and I hop inside before realizing I'm doing it.
His long fingers tap against the steering wheel as I plaster myself to the end of the bench, half my body pressed against the door. "Do I have rabies?"
I blink. "I don't know; do you?"
His gaze darkens further, and I stop pretending not to understand as I scoot an inch closer.
No further.
I might not be incredibly experienced in bedroom affairs, but I can feel the aura coming off this man and have no interest in creating an 18 play for minors watching through the window, which ans I need to keep myself away from temptation.
My tongue darts out to lick my dry lips. I should introduce a neutral subject.
Oh. The dog and cat have run off. Maybe Randy and Dylan haven't reported it to him yet. I could start there; pets running off is not the kind of conversation where hands end up under shirts and then you end up in awkward situations where you're not sure if you're a virgin or not anymore.
Yes, this is the perfect topic to introduce, and I should, but instead the words that co out of my mouth are:
"Let's find sowhere a little quieter to park."
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