A Hamilton Family Christmas - Donna Kauffman Page 0,11
on, casting them both in a small pool of yellow light.
“Not exactly industrial size,” he said, looking at the tiny beam. “But it should do the trick.”
“I—it’s for reading.” She started to explain that she liked to read and that she always carried a little flashlight as a sort of book light, but he already thought she was a dork. No need to give him further reason to be amused at her expense. “But it comes in handy for all sorts of things. I had a flat tire not too long ago in the middle of the night and—” She stopped. She was babbling. She never babbled. “Anyway, I’ll sit it here on the counter and take care of the bird, if you want to look for candles.” She propped it on its end so the beam of light cast upward, but it was so small, the glow didn’t really reach very far.
“Why don’t you take it and go cover Cicero for the night and get him settled, then I’ll take it and root around in the cupboards.
“I’m surprised there isn’t a generator,” Emma said. “In a house this size, out this far from town, I’m guessing power going out isn’t entirely unusual.”
“Maybe there is one but it has to be turned on manually.”
“I don’t recall seeing it in the book or addendums, but—”
“You mean the notebook you were carrying earlier?”
“Yes. Your Uncle Lionel compiled it, or had it compiled, to help guide me through my stay here.”
“And there are addendums?”
“Oh, yeah,” she said, then realized she hadn’t sounded entirely kind, and hurried to add, “but it can never hurt to have too much information.”
Trevor chuckled. “Don’t worry, you didn’t offend. Lionel is nothing if not thorough with his attention to detail. At least when it suits him, anyway.”
Emma looked over at him. He was rummaging through the drawers that were closest to the light. She wondered what he’d meant by that last part. There’d been a slight edge to the dry amusement. She turned back to Cicero. “Okay, big guy, let’s get you your evening treat.”
“Snack for Cicero! Cicero is a pretty bird.”
He sounded a little less panicked, but still not settled. “Yes, yes, you are.”
She grabbed the plastic container from the little cupboard next to his cage and fished out a piece of dried mango. She fed that to him and watched him hike it all the way down to his water dish, dunk it carefully a few times, then scoot down the rung to the middle of his cage and quietly enjoy his soggy feast. She changed his paper from the sliding tray beneath the cage, dumped it in the trash, then turned around and put her hands on her hips. The dogs had all but shadowed her every step since she’d come in the kitchen and were right behind her, looking at her expectantly. “I’m guessing you guys want to come with me.”
Martha enthusiastically bumped her head into Emma’s stomach, while Jack wriggled around her ankles, his tail slapping back and forth. “Well, we need to find out where we’re bunking in first.” She really wished she’d done that first upon arriving, but it was too late to worry about that now.
Cicero was done with his snack, so she said her good nights and covered him up, heard him fluff his feathers out, and relaxed a little. One down, anyway. She walked back over to the counter. “Any luck?”
“No,” Trevor said, his head buried in one of the lower cupboards. “Mind sticking around here for a few minutes and letting me use the flashlight to finish looking in the cupboards and pantry? One candle and I’m good.”
“Go right ahead.” She handed him the flashlight and watched him as he turned his back on her and began systematically going through drawers and cupboards. This left her time to wonder how she’d ended up stuck in a house with a man who did things to her libido that should be illegal, when she was supposed to be stuck only with a couple of dogs and an unruly parrot. Why her? She scooted onto a stool, sighed, and propped her elbows on the counter.
“That was a particularly plaintive sigh. Am I keeping you from something?”
She hadn’t realized she’d made a sound, but she really couldn’t be faulted for it. Didn’t he know how ridiculously attractive he was? Didn’t he know that when he bent over like that to look through the lower cupboards, his jeans cupped a rear end