Play With Fire (The Men of Fire 1) - Page 17

One by one, I watch all our chairs wobble and then hit the floor.

“Whoops, Mommy,” Ryan says as she starts hysterically laughing under the table at the mess she’s created. I stand and watch in horror. How did that just happen in the space of thirty seconds?

I focus on the child under the table as booming laughter continues to pour out of her. That’s not good. The next stage will be tears, un-freaking-controllable tears if she doesn’t get food in her belly soon, and nobody is prepared for that.

This will turn ugly very quickly if Zoey doesn’t walk through that door in the next two seconds.

As if hearing my silent plea, the door swings open, and I find Zoey gawking at the sight before her. “Shit, Mills. Get that kid away from my garlic bread,” she hollers from the doorway, prancing through the house as though she isn’t the cause of all this destruction. “What are you doing, Monster? Get out from under there, you crazy kid.”

I laugh. “She’s like a little mini-you. She sniffed out that bread as soon as I pulled it out of the oven. I’ve held her off this long, but I’m not Superwoman. There’s only so much I can do.”

I head back to the stove to try and salvage what’s left of this mess, groaning to myself. “Fuuuuck,” I whisper. I try to move the food in the pan and look at the dial. I must not have turned the stove down as much as I thought. The food is sticking to the bottom of the pan. “Damn it.”

“What’s wrong?” Zoey questions.

I whip the wooden spoon to point at Zoey, not once taking my eyes off the spaghetti sauce and accidentally flicking shit everywhere. I cringe as I hear the splattering of sauce against my kitchen wall.

Shit.

I look up, and it’s like a scene from a horror movie. How the fuck am I going to clean this up?

Oh well. I’ll deal with it after dinner, that is if I can get to it before Coby licks it off the walls. “You, my friend, have got a lot of splanin’ to do.” There’s an absolute look of horror on Zoey’s face as she looks down at her white shirt, now rocking a slasher film vibe rather than a clinical, just came from work vibe.

I glance around, taking note of where all the sauce has landed so I can make sure to wipe it up later. “Shit,” I cringe, hoping small ears don’t hear. I’m in trouble.

Ever so slowly, Zoey raises her furious eyes, and the second they make contact with mine, she explodes. “WHAT THE FUCK, MILLS?”

Crap.

“I’m sorry.” Dropping the wooden spoon, I reach for the pack of baby wipes on the counter and hurry towards her. That white top is definitely ruined. I don’t think anything can save that now.

“Here, Zo,” I say, grabbing at her shirt. “I’ll clean it.” I go to grab the bottom of her shirt just as I would the girls as the next show of the night comes parading into the room. We both look over at the same time and clock Coby sundering into the kitchen, butt freaking naked with her diaper on her head. The little voice inside my mind is begging and praying to any God that exists that it’s not dirty.

This is not happening right now.

“What is happening here?” Zoey voices the thoughts running through my head as she looks around, taking in the war zone we’re currently standing in.

“The animals are hungry,” I simply respond, shrugging my shoulders like it’s the answer to the world’s biggest problems. That’s single parenting for you.

“I see,” Zoey murmurs, knocking my hands away at my attempts to undress her to get her shirt clean. Though, there’s really no point. That top is ruined.

“I’ve got it … and Hurricane. You get dinner.” With that, she grabs Coby and heads towards the bathroom. I hear the sounds of dry retching and come to the conclusion that that diaper must have been dirty. Awesome.

Okay. Dinner.

I quickly dish up everyone’s plates before anything else can go wrong. Thankfully, as though the universe is sensing the fine line of my emotional state, it’s only another few minutes before we’re all sitting down as the dysfunctional family we are.

Finally. Not a word is spoken and the silence is bliss.

I’m counting down the seconds until that glass on the counter will be filled with the deliciousness I have stored in the fridge, and I can finally put an end to this day.

Just as that thought enters my head, Ryan mutters around a mouth full of garlic bread. “The fireman saved my head from stuck, Zo Zo.” I can’t help but grin. It was a shitty situation, but now that we’ve moved past it, I’m starting to see the funny side.

Tags: Sheridan Anne The Men of Fire Romance
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