Gratifyingly quickly, Dusty appeared at the top of the stairs. Just like Dusty, she made this even better because she did it with her face wreathed in smiles.
She’d fallen in without word to Mike’s attempts to add her gradually to his kids’ lives. Being herself, natural, casual, open, funny with his kids and not bitching about the fact that, even in their relationship which for the most part was new, it was good, it was intense and their bond was strengthening fast, she didn’t get him every free minute of his day.
Then again, even as a kid, unlike her sister, she didn’t mind sharing with people she cared about.
“Hey, babe,” she greeted half jumping, half skipping down the steps like a teenager. Her long hair swinging around her shoulders, her limbs loose, her eyes never leaving him, the smile never leaving her face.
“Hey,” Mike returned, smiling back.
“Where’s Rhonda?” Dean asked when she was four steps from the bottom and Dusty’s head turned her Dad’s way.
“Bedroom,” she muttered, hitting the bottom of the steps then directly hitting Mike, tipping her head back, pressing her soft body into his side, hand to his abs, feet rolling up to her toes, inviting his kiss.
He dipped his head while sliding an arm around her and gave it to her.
A brush on the lips and when he lifted his head he saw the disappointment flash through her eyes. He liked it, the reason behind it but he wasn’t going to assuage it.
He was also gradually adding to his kids’ lives displays of affection to his woman. He didn’t want to go too fast and freak them out or turn them off especially considering both of them were growing close, and rapidly, to Dusty. That said, he was never going to open them up to how Mike and Dusty were together when it was just Mike and Dusty. Mostly because it was rude in front of anybody, definitely in front of your kids. In the rare good times they had, he didn’t hesitate cuddling with, touching, kissing or holding Audrey but beyond that, no. However, that was where he was aiming things with his kids and Dusty.
Dusty had no such qualms and it was likely he could have added tongue right in front of her mother and father and she wouldn’t care.
He, however, did.
He grinned at her.
She pressed closer and rolled her eyes.
His grin became a smile.
“Kirb?” her father barked, the one syllable sharp and in the curve of Mike’s arm he felt Dusty’s body jolt with surprise as her head turned to her Dad.
Rolling back down to the soles of her feet but keeping her body pressed close, she answered, “Fin’s room. We were watching TV.”
Dean nodded then ordered, “Living room.”
Without delay, he turned on his sock-covered foot and stomped in.
Della followed.
Dusty pressed even closer.
“What’s going on?” she whispered.
“I read Darrin’s will,” Mike whispered back.
“Oh shit,” she kept whispering, her gaze scanning his face for clues.
“Damn straight,” Mike replied.
Her eyes narrowed and her nose scrunched. This was her seriously pissed off look, he guessed, seeing as he’d never seen it before.
If that was her pissed off, they were both in trouble. She thought he was hot when he was pissed. He thought she looked adorable.
He guided her into the living room and they made it to find Dean standing and Della perched on the arm of a chair, her fingers on both hands engaged in wringing each other. Mike let Dusty go then he turned and slid the pocket doors closed behind him.
Dusty moved to perch like her mother on the arm of the couch.
Mike moved into the room and crossed his arms on his chest.
Then he gave it to them straight but thorough.
When he was done, Della dropped her head. Her hands now in her lap motionless, she was the image of a mother who was wondering where she went wrong.
Dean, on the other hand, was red-faced and looked like he was about to explode. He was the image of a father who was wishing his daughter was thirty years younger so he could still tan her ass.
Dusty had her head up but it was turned, looking away. Her face in profile was thoughtful but her thoughts were easily readable – pain, confusion, anger mixed with relief.
“Why would she do that?”
This came from Della, it was whispered, injured, baffled.
Dusty, Mike was mildly surprised to see, didn’t jump all over that with catty comments, taking the golden opportunity to sink the blade of their daughter’s betrayal deeper by pointing out this might be a more egregious transgression but the behavior was not uncommon. Something Debbie wouldn’t hesitate to do. Instead, she remained silent and reflective.
“That doesn’t matter,” Dean answered. “What matters is, legally, the farm is safe. That’s what matters.”
He had moved from angry to relieved and he was right. Put it behind, move on.