when she saw the boys parading out. They looked positively angelic! Their hair was slicked back, their feet were bare, and the shorts and T-shirts she’d found for them were so roomy they made the children seem even smaller than they actually were.
The contrast between the way they looked now and the way they’d looked when they’d arrived was truly miraculous. The younger one was holding a scruffy teddy bear, which had obviously had a bath, too.
She paused and smiled, assessing the boys looking at her with such expectant expressions. How darling! Mitch Fowler must be awfully cynical to imagine that such cute kids would cause trouble. He probably didn’t have a clue how to handle them properly, the poor little things.
“Come on. This way,” Bree said, starting off. Ryan, Bud and Bud’s teddy bear followed obediently.
When they got to the kitchen, Bree helped Bud crawl into a chair, then smiled with satisfaction. This wasn’t so bad, was it? Maybe their short stay wasn’t going to upset her routine as much as she’d thought. After all, she didn’t dare use her computer during inclement weather anyway, and as soon as the skies cleared they’d all go home, and she could get back to work without any more distraction.
Satisfied, she placed a napkin in front of each boy and laid two cookies in the center. “Hot chocolate coming up.”
“I want whipped cream on mine,” Ryan ordered.
“Sorry, I don’t have any whipped cream.”
To Bree’s surprise, Bud immediately began to whimper while his brother made a sour face and turned sullen. Apparently, the boys’ cute, agreeable phase was over already. Oh, well.
“I like to float those little tiny marshmallows in my hot chocolate,” she said brightly. “I’ll put some in your cups, and you can tell me if you like them, too.”
“I hate mush mellows,” Ryan said.
“Not mush. Marshmallows.”
Crossing to the table, she dropped several of the small, rounded balls of candy fluff onto the napkins with the boys’ cookies. “There you go. That’s what they look like. You can eat them just like that. When they’re floating in hot cocoa they melt and get really good and gooey.”
The children were still sitting there, pouting and staring at the napkins, when Bree set their mugs on the table. “Okay. Here’s your drink. It’s hot. Sip it slowly so you don’t burn yourselves. And be careful not to get melted marshmallow stuck to the end of your nose. That always happens to me.”
She sipped at the contents of her mug with theatrical relish, then licked her lips and set the drink aside.
“I’m going to go start the washing machine so you can have your regular clothes back,” she said. “I won’t be gone long.”
Eyeing Ryan’s defiant expression, she decided it would be prudent to add, “If you move off those chairs or do anything except eat and drink while I’m out of the kitchen, I’ll have to put you back in with your daddy like he said. Got that?”
Neither boy spoke, but Bree was certain they both understood. Headstrong Ryan was giving her a dirty look, and Bud was clutching his teddy bear so tightly it was leaving a damp spot on the front of his T-shirt.
As soon as Mitch was alone he wasted no time stripping and jumping into the shower. Thanks to the raging storm, the kids had only picked up a few ticks on their trek up the hill, but as far as he was concerned, one was too many. No doubt the boys would be itching like crazy by tomorrow. The power of suggestion was already doing a number on him.
He soaped and scrubbed from head to foot. If he couldn’t dig his car out of the mud in the morning he’d borrow transportation and run into town to buy something to kill whatever bugs had taken up residence in Barney’s thick coat—and in the cabin. Until then, he’d see that the little dog stayed confined to this one room of his hostess’s home to avoid contaminating it, too.
Mitch was chuckling when he stepped out of the shower and began to towel himself dry.
Panting, the little dog looked at him with shining ebony eyes and cocked its head.
“Yes, I was thinking about you,” Mitch said. That was all the attention it took for the pup to begin wagging its tail so hard its whole rear end wiggled with delight. “You, and the lady who owns this place. I’ll bet she’d have a fit if she knew we’d probably brought bugs into her fancy house.”
Barney whirled in tight circles at Mitch’s feet.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re so adorable you can get away with just about anything. Like those kids of mine. I hate to have to start out by being tough with them but I know they need discipline. Desperately.”
The little dog’s antics heightened to include a frenzied dash around the room. Mitch said, “Whoa. Come here.” He held out his hand, and the dog skidded to a stop and looked at him with clear devotion.
He bent to pet it. Barney threw himself on the floor at the man’s feet and rolled onto his back in complete surrender.
Mitch laughed as he scratched the dog’s exposed belly. “Now that’s the kind of love and respect I want from my boys. I wish they were as easy to win over as you are, little guy.”
Barney licked his hand.
“Yeah, all I have to do is figure out a way to show them how much I care, prove how much I’ve missed them, and make them behave—all at the same time.” He snorted in derision. “The way things have been going, I figure that shouldn’t take more than twenty or thirty years.”
When Bree returned, the cookies and cocoa were gone and Bud was sporting a sticky chocolate mustache. She could tell the children were fighting sleep.
“Okay, guys. Time for bed,” she said. “Use your napkins to wipe off your faces and hands, and let’s go upstairs.” Thankfully, there was no suggestion of rebellion this time.
Ryan made the choice of sleeping arrangements for himself and his brother. “We don’t need separate beds. We’re used to sleepin’ together,” he said matter-of-factly. “He’d get scared if he woke up and I wasn’t there. You know how it is.”
Brianne smiled. “Actually, I don’t. I never had any brothers or sisters.”
“Who’d you play with?” The eight-year-old looked astounded. Mimicking her motions, he turned down one edge of the embroidered coverlet while Bree did the same on the opposite side of the double bed.
“I had a few friends I used to hang out with,” she said. “We’d jump rope or swim or maybe go shopping together.”
“Girl stuff. Didn’t you ever wrestle or play ball on a team or nothin’?”
“Afraid not. My father tried to teach me to play baseball like a boy, but I never managed to please him.”
“Bet you didn’t even have a dog, huh?”
“No. My father didn’t like animals very much, either.” She grew pensive. “There was a stray cat I made friends with once. It was gray, with white paws and a white star on its chest. By being very patient, I finally managed to get it to trust me enough to take food out of my hand.”
“What happened to it?”
“I don’t know. It disappeared.”
“Probably died,” he said sagely. Pausing, he lowered his voice and added, “So did our mother.”
“I know. Your father told me. I’m sorry.”
The boy opened his mouth as if to speak, then quickly shut it and looked away.
Brianne helped Bud climb into bed. She stood aside so Ryan could join him before she carefully pulled the sheet over them both. Bud curled into a ball around his teddy bear, his eyes tightly shut. Ryan looked at her.
She tenderly