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He’d never gone back to chewing, and had, early on in his kids’ lives, made up some bullshit excuse so they’d never taken up the habit, either. By then, or course, Mike had mostly gotten over the trauma. Mostly. It was only times like these, when he was blindsided by evidence of the nasty stuff, that he suffered a flashback, kneejerk reaction.
He quickly got himself under control by coughing.
“Are you okay?” Joe’s brows scrunched up while she regarded him carefully from the seat she’d taken on a fallen tree trunk.
“Yeah,” Mike said, taking several swipes at the ground with his hiking boot, sending the pile of wrappers into the underbrush where they were eventually disguised with leaves. He’d know they were still there, but as long as he didn’t have to look at them…
“Are you sure? You look a little green.”
“There was some…dog shit on the ground,” he fibbed to cover his actions. “And I, um, think a bug just flew into my throat,” he fabricated, coughing again for affect. “I’ll be fine in a second.”
The look on Joe’s face showed contrition…and confusion.
Could she have…?
Nope. There’s no way she could have found out about his old phobia and planted those wrappers. First of all, how would she have located Cruz? And second, when would she have had the time to put them there? She’d been with him twenty-four seven since yesterday’s foray. Besides, the Joe he knew wasn’t that…
For sure, she wasn’t that mean. But Mike had told her he was fully over the undisclosed phobia, so if she had been able to plant the trash, she’d only have done it, thinking it was a good joke. Which it would have been if the pile hadn’t caught him off guard.
Mike quickly regained his equilibrium.
“Here’s your coffee,” he said, sitting on the log beside her.
“Thanks,” she said, looking suspiciously relieved he’d changed the subject. “You want a donut?” She waved the bag at him.
“Maybe later. It could be a long morning.”
Joe looked at Mike again, then at the bag, and scowled. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Fine,” he swiftly demurred, and popping the insert out of his coffee lid, he took a huge draw.
Joe eyed him skeptically again, but then leaned over to plant a kiss on his cheek, after which she settled in and held her tongue.
Which was just what he needed.
Quiet time with Joe was cathartic. She never spoke just to be heard, and he’d already figured out that the tranquility she wrapped around herself often had legs. Their comfortable and companionable silences could last for hours.
Which gave Mike plenty of time to think. And it wouldn’t be about the errant pile of gum wrappers, either. It would be about what had gone on at his house the previous night after Scrabble that had blown his mind.
Out of necessity—but also because he’d wanted her there—Mike had moved Joe into his home. Into his guest room to be specific. That’s where she’d slept for the last three nights, which had sucked. But with the kids in the house, Mike hadn’t wanted to freak them out.
Last evening, after they’d all eaten their evening meal together and were working on ice cream for dessert along with their games, Mike had figured it was time to talk with his offspring about what was going to happen with their mother in the morning. Joe, understanding the family dynamic, swiftly excused herself, leaving them with an encouraging smile as she’d disappeared outside.
Before he’d been able to get out a word, however, Tim and Dill had exchanged a look, and Dilly had taken over the confab.
“We’re not little kids anymore,” she’d begun.
Mike, puzzled, had nodded his agreement. “I didn’t say you were.”
“So that means we know what you and Joe have been up to,” Dill had thrown at him.
Shit. How did they know? He and Joe had only continued their physical exploration of each other in the afternoons when the kids were still at school. Had one of them come home and?—?
“No.” Dilly must have seen where his mind had gone. “We haven’t caught you doing anything. But seriously Dad? The looks you give each other are a dead giveaway. You guys are getting busy, except for when we’re in the house. Which is stupid.”
Tim had piped up then, which had blown Mike’s mind. His son normally let Dill do the talking when it came to serious shit. “It means you should stop pretending, and just let her sleep in your room already,” he’d added sagely. “You’re not going to damage our psyches for life or anything. We promise.”
Mike hadn’t known what to say. When had his children grown up and become so wise? “You… You’re sure?” he’d sent out, wanting to be positive they were all on the same page.