Page 50 of The Runaway and the Rugged
“Call me Winnie.” My mom spoke close to her ear before pulling away. “I was wondering if I was going to get the chance to meet you. I’m happy Garth was able to get you to come for breakfast.”
“She’s beautiful!”she mouthed over Emelia’s shoulder, as I shook my head on a grunt.
Here we go.
“Well, it all looks great,” Emelia complimented as they slowly pulled away from their embrace. “I can’t remember the last time I had a breakfast like this.”
I wasn’t sure if she was lying to make my mom feel good, or if she was telling the truth. I would've thought her ex was the kind of man who insisted on having a full spread of food at every meal, but by the wholesome gleam in her eye, it became obvious she was being truthful.
“Help yourself, darlin’! I’m sure you’re starved.”
Emelia nodded graciously, but remained hesitant on where to start. Grace, of course, already had her plate stacked highwith an empty plate in the other hand waving in the direction of Emelia.
“Got you a plate!” Grace offered as I nudged Emelia to go ahead.
“Go on, Outlaw,” I whispered low enough so no one besides the two of us heard it. I didn’t need their reactions or unnecessary commentary on the harmless nickname I had given her.
Emelia reluctantly shifted toward my daughter and grabbed the plate from her hand. Grace began telling her what to try and how everything was uniquely made, while I lingered in the back, intrigued by my daughter interacting with her. It wasn’t every day I was able to witness something like this. The brightness that was lifted onto Grace’s face by someone other than her family.
As much as I knew I shouldn’t enjoy this, I couldn’t help but do so. Even if it was just a moment of filling their breakfast plates.
“Make sure you try some of those biscuits and gravy,” my mom added as she went back to cutting the cantaloupe. “And dammit, Garth, go upstairs and put a shirt on. We have a guest dining with us.”
A grunt rumbled its way up my throat as Grace turned her head to stick her tongue out at me.
Little shit.
“Oh, it’s okay, he’s fine. I don’t feel… uncomfortable or anything. It’s nothing—nothing I haven’t seen before,” Emelia rambled, causing my eyebrow to damn near hit the ceiling from how high it lifted.
Nothing she hasn’t seen before?
Why did I suddenly want her eyes to get another good long look at me to change that statement?
“Besides, as much as I would love to stay, my friend is currently sleeping in the cabin and I should really be there when she wakes up.”
Grace pouted.
“Why don’t you just wake her up and she can eat breakfast with us?” Grace suggested, clearly already attached to Emelia’s presence and trying to come up with anything to make her stay a little longer.
“She’s not exactly a morning person, if you know what I mean.”
Grace laughed.
“Aunt Greta and Uncle Griff aren’t morning people either. The best way to wake ’em up early in the morning is by telling them that one is looking for the other.”
Folding my arms across my chest, I leaned my shoulder against the wall beside me.
“That was you all this time?” I questioned my shit disturber of a daughter, wondering why I never put two and two together as to why Greta and Griff would every now and then wake up arguing.
They’d come storming into my house, blaming it all on me when in reality it was the little girl.
“Gracelyn Marie Calhoun, now why in God’s name would you do that? You know those two are fire and kerosine.”
“Because it was something fun to do and since they were already up, they’d take me places.” Grace shrugged as I gave her a flat-eyed stare. “It wasn’t like I did it every day.”
No wonder they could barely stand each other. It was partly due to their damn niece.
Suddenly, a low groan, followed by the sound of slippers slapping against the wood floor, carried into the kitchen.
