Page 20 of His Wild Storm
And I didn’t. The last person who would ever deserve defensiveness and negativity would be Ellis. The man is Zen in the best way possible. He’s calm and steady when the entire world can feel like it is falling apart.
“I already know I’m going to be trekking uphill to make this happen. I don’t even know her name,” I admitted softly. “But what I do know is her son, Wilde, is a talented kiddo. He’s only four and when I tell you he blew me away, I am really downplaying it instead of the other way around.”
“Just,” Wyatt winced and then shrugged, “you know, take it slow. Get her story, as much of it as she’s willing to give and let it help you find the right path. Every woman, especially one who hasn’t had the best experience with a man, deserves to be loved and to find a place to belong.” His voice took on a warning tone, “And you better know her son makes them a package deal.”
I narrowed my eyes at Wyatt, not giving a single fuck about him technically being my boss, and growled, “Wilde is an awesome kid, and I am very aware I’m getting a two for one special with them. It’s a damn bargain as far as I’m concerned.”
Travis let out a low whistle and my family froze around me before big smiles started to slowly form on their faces. “Well,” Travis conceded like he hadn’t been the original shit stirrer and clapped me on the back, “our work here is done.”
Today, I had the opportunity to see more of Haven and even got the introductions out of the way. It’s a small step, but it feels important.
She might not be aware of it, but Haven’s face is easy to read. She’s attracted to me but isn’t sure what to make of the feeling. It makes me wonder how long it has been since she left whatever situation she walked away from.
The thought of someone harming her, of a man putting his hands on her, has me seeing read.
“Did you see that I brought a pear as my fruit?” Wilde’s innocent question pulls my thoughts away from the man who hurt Haven. And just in time. I can’t be filled with rage as I start class with these kids; they don’t deserve that kind of vibe.
“Are pears your favorite fruit or do you just like the way they look the most?”
“I love pears,” Wilde yells as we step into the room where our class takes place.
I look to where a clear, iridescent bowl with subtle fluting is waiting for me and intend to head that way to put my pastels and sketch pad down next to it. Just as I take a step, a hand on my arm stops me. I turn to find Wendy standing next to me.
I’m unable to stop myself from cringing because I didn’t realize she walked with us from the kitchen. I mentally face palm myself because Haven must have seen her follow me.
The last thing I need right now is drama. I won’t be happy if I lose the chance to explore the spark between Haven and me before we’ve even tried.
Not wanting to deal with drama does not help me come up with something to say. Not when I’m looking down at a womanwho has been giving some very clear signals to me. And what do I say? That I’m interested in a woman I’ve barely talked to and only just learned her name because my soul is telling me there is something between us?
It sounds like a line, like an excuse.
Wendy clears her throat and looks away after searching my face. Her voice is low, “I can see there’s something between you and Haven. Every woman deserves to be looked at the way you look at her,” her voice is vulnerable, but it’s also real and knowing.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble and try to stop myself from wincing.
“Don’t be,” Wendy dismisses my apology and pairs it with a wave of her hand. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Haven is an amazing person, and Wilde is a smart little boy. They deserve the world. Just,” she pauses and bites her lip, “go slow.”
“I will,” I vow.
Wendy nods with a smile on her face. I take a moment and really look at her and search her features. There’s not a hint of bitterness in her expression and I’m thankful as hell for it. The last thing I want to do is make this situation awkward, not here at Safe House. Not for either woman.
She gives my arm a squeeze. I’m not sure if it is encouragement or a goodbye. Maybe it doesn’t matter either way.
When I turn toward the front of the room, Wilde is standing there with a curious expression on his face. He looks toward the door Wendy just walked through and then back at me.
For some reason, I swallow hard as I force my feet to move closer to him.
I put my plastic banana next to the bowl, but Wilde doesn’t follow my lead right away. My gut sinks when he keeps staring at me.
“You like Wendy?” I’m not sure how to read the look on his face as he asks me about Wendy.
A kid his age shouldn’t be able to conceal what he’s thinking but it is exactly what he’s doing right now. It’s a skill he should have never been able to hone, but I can’t say I’m surprised either.
I shake my head as I close the distance between us and crouch down to put us closer to eye level. He doesn’t flinch away from me, and it feels like a win.
“I don’t like Wendy,” I tell him honestly.
Wilde narrows his eyes at me as he studies my face. Only when he nods once as if he believes me—which he should—do I breathe a little easier.
