Page 95 of Wilder Heart

Wilder opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. It was true he cussed more when Annalise wasn’t around—maybe that was part of the problem. He’d turned it into too much of a habit, and then they slipped out when he didn’t mean for them to. He was lucky Annalise wasn’t the type to repeat what she heard. She just thought it was funny whenhesaid them.

“Okay, fine, I have apotty mouth.” He shot Lain a teasing look as he repeated the kiddie phrase. “Keep teasing me and nobody gets pie.”

Mary-Beth half-turned to give him an eager look. “Chess?”

“Chess pie, yes ma’am. Just like the recipe you gave me.”

“Ilovethat pie. Thanks for bringing it. Wasn’t it an easy recipe?”

When he’d made overtures about wanting to learn to cook, even in the camper’s modest kitchen, Mary-Beth gave him some simple recipes to try out and her old crockpot to use. Apparently a lot of things could just be tossed in the crockpot and left alone for a few hours, which was very useful when he needed to get some work done outside. The camper’s oven was small butfunctional, and the pie was one of the few desserts he’d recently learned to make.

“It was, yeah. I can’t wait until the house is finished and we have full-sized appliances again.”

“How’s it coming along?” Lain asked, then gestured to the babies. “Are they done eating, hon?”

Mary-Beth nodded. “Yeah. Why don’t you guys take them to the living room? The turkey’s almost done, and thenwecan eat.”

“The house is coming along well,” Wilder said as he unhooked baby Wilder from the high-chair and wiped the sweet potato from his mouth with a damp towel. “You’ve got to learn to get more of this in your mouth and not on your face, little man. Anyway, they’re getting the drywall up later this week, and then the fun inside stuff starts.”

He’d never gotten to design a house before. He and Cash spent hours sitting at the tiny table in the camper, poring over blueprints, siding colors, front porch options, window treatments, fireplaces, flooring, wall colors, kitchen and bathroom cabinets and countertops. It was so much more involved than he would have guessed, but he’d loved every minute. He couldn’t wait to see how it all came together.

Lain transferred Bobby to Cash and said, “I’m gonna help Mary-Beth get the food ready. Tell Annalise to get away from the tree.”

Cash snorted, and Wilder shot Lain a nonplussed look as they passed. But it became clear when they reached the living room, where Annalise was sitting cross-legged by the presents piled under the Christmas tree in the corner, holding one brightly wrapped package up to her ear and shaking it.

“Lain says get away from the tree, wild thing,” Wilder said.

She put the present down with an exasperated huff. “Fine. That’s a board game, anyway.”

Wilder tilted his head. “H-How do you know that? It might not be.”

“I can just tell.” She shrugged.

Cash sat down on the sofa with Bobby, who stuck his thumb in his mouth and settled his head against Cash’s shoulder, sated and relaxed as only a baby could be. Little Wilder, on the other hand, started squirming the minute Wilder sat down with him, so he gently set the baby on the floor only to sigh wearily when the boy grabbed onto the coffee table and pulled himself to his feet.

Cash ducked his head to speak to Bobby. “Are you doing that now, too, kiddo? You’re going to drive your parents crazy, both of you running around at the same time.”

“Driveuscrazy, too,” Wilder pointed out, scooting to the edge of the cushion so baby Wilder could take his hand for balance while he toddled back and forth, pushing sippy cups and toys off the coffee table with gleeful laughter.

Cash and Wilder babysat once a week for Lain and Mary-Beth, giving them the opportunity to go out for dinner or run errands together or, on a few notable occasions, to go in the bedroom for a long nap.

By the time Lain called that the food was ready, Wilder was on his feet, holding little Wilder’s hands and letting him walk all around the room. He’d never seen a child so delighted with the simple concept of movement. Every few steps, he’d let out a peal of laughter that sent a shot of warmth straight to his heart.

Mary-Beth insisted on putting the boys in a playpen while the adults ate, despite Wilder’s offer to eat in shifts so the boys could be out and about.

“It’s good for them,” Mary-Beth insisted, prying little Wilder from his arms and setting him in the mesh-walled playpen with his brother. There were plenty of toys in there to occupy them, and the adults would be within sight.

“Sorry, boys,” Wilder said. “Don’t worry, we’ll spring you from the slammer as soon as we can.”

Mary-Beth snorted out a laugh and gave him a playful shove. “It’s not prison!”

“Put a toilet in there and it could be,” he quipped.

She pushed him, still laughing, into the kitchen, where Lain was cutting the turkey.

They ate in the living room, fielding Annalise’s pleas to start opening presents. Lain, sitting by the playpen, kept fetching the toys the twins threw out and returning them, which became a hilarious game to both little Wilder and Bobby, their laughter falling in-sync in a way that was funny until Wilder realized he and Lain were doing the same thing.

Some things never changed.

---