in her company and her scent. I especially liked the way she moved. Slow and sure. My gaze fell to her long legs—I needed to thank Winifred for the cutoff shorts. Realizing the direction of my appreciative gaze and thoughts, I cringed. If I wasn’t careful, I’d be riding Michelle’s knee again.
When she tossed an onion my way, my gaze was properly on her face once more. We worked side by side to make the meatloaf for dinner. The smell of the food wasn’t enough to cover her emotions, which seemed to shift with each sip of wine. She had something on her mind, and I kept quiet, hoping she’d realize she could talk to me. About anything.
But when she did speak, I wasn’t ready for what she said.
“He locked them in their room when he got tired of them.”
We both froze. I could smell her surprise as I struggled with my anger. I wanted to know who locked them in their rooms, but knew now wasn’t the time to push for more information.
I quickly washed the food from my hands then turned her to face me. Her cheeks were flushed; from the wine or what she said, I couldn’t be certain.
I remained quiet, waiting for her to look up. When she did, she kept talking, a small sign of trust.
“My mom died just after Aden was born. My stepfather, their dad, died two days before I saw you at that diner. I’m all my brothers have. I won’t let them be locked in a room again.”
“David will never get the chance,” I promised. If I ever saw him again, he was a dead man.
Something flitted across her features. I lightly breathed in and tasted her confusion as she studied me with a slight frown.
“I’m not afraid of David,” she said before she turned away and poured the rest of the glass of wine into the sink. The move signaled the topic was now closed, and I wished she wouldn’t have shut me out.
She put the meatloaf in the oven then brought out a bag of potatoes. When she handed me a few, I washed them for her. Although I knew she was done talking, I still had so many questions. If it wasn’t David she feared, then who? Who locked her brothers in a room? Who was after my Mate? Who were Blake and Richard?
Not ready for another unmanning, I kept my mouth shut. So did she. And she remained quiet all through dinner. As soon as we all finished eating, she asked to clean up alone. I hated leaving her—it felt like losing ground—but did as she asked.
Downstairs, Aden and Jim challenged Liam and me to races. Wolf style, but no fur. Winifred scolded his wording but didn’t say a thing when he got down on all fours and started racing around the porch.
When I gave her a questioning look, she shrugged.
“Little bits of information at a time can sometimes help ease a transition.”
I wondered if she knew Jim had said something very similar to me. Most likely not. She didn’t like when Jim sounded like an Elder, or was right.
I looked down at Liam, whose gaze was bouncing between Winifred and me. Ruffling his hair, I dropped to my knees.
“Hang on to my shirt because we’re going to win.”
He grinned and climbed onto my back.
We’d only managed a few official laps when I heard Michelle on the stairs. I almost stopped, but Liam’s heels dug into my sides in an effort to keep me moving.
“Ready for them to come up to bed?” I heard Winifred ask.
“Not yet,” Michelle said. “Could you watch them a little longer? I was hoping Emmitt and I could go for a ride.”
I put on a burst of speed to round the third corner as Winifred answered.
“You smell like wine. Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
Winifred, you’re killing me.
If she’s drunk, do you think it’s wise to have any type of serious conversation?
Serious? No. Conversation? Yes. This means she’s willing to listen, and I don’t want to throw a chance away.
“It’s the only one I have.”
Michelle’s soft, desperate words had me racing for the next bend.
“Of course, I’ll watch them,” Winifred said.
I turned the corner just as she added, “I’ll put them to bed for you, too.”
Stopping before the women, I let Liam climb off then rose to my feet. The boy looked up at me with a disgruntled expression, and I mussed his hair with a smile.