Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Olivia glanced over her shoulder. “She is, isn’t she?”
Mark had left the lights on leading through the formal living room and into the kitchen. Cillian set the bags at the bottom of the stairs. “I’m sure you’re hungry.”
“Not really, but Hadley probably is.” She tickled her daughter. “Aren’t you, baby girl?”
“Yes!”
“Thought so.” She sent him a look that was half-nervous, half-unapologetic. “We’ll be right back.” She moved into the hallway, swooping down to grab a smaller pink bag that had been on top of the suitcase.
Left to his own devices, Cillian searched the cupboards. There were plenty of canned goods and nonperishables, and he found a jar of homemade jelly that he was damn sure no one in his family had actually made and a tub of peanut butter. Mark and the boys must have picked up a few things on their way up here, because there were several loaves of bread on the kitchen island, and three gallons of milk in the fridge.
And bacon. Lots of bacon.
He snorted. At least they have their priorities in order.
Since Olivia hadn’t reappeared, he got to work putting together three PB&J sandwiches. It only took a few minutes and, after some consideration, he cut the crust off of one of them. He seemed to remember Keira going through a stage where she refused to eat crust on anything for years. Then he poured three glasses of milk. He wasn’t a huge fan, but he figured Olivia needed the calories. Plus, little kids were supposed to drink a lot of milk, weren’t they?
Hell, he didn’t know.
She came back into the kitchen as he situated the plates and glasses on the little nook table set against the bay windows. It was getting dark now, but in the morning the sun warmed the whole room. He glanced over. “I hope you like milk and PB&J.”
“I’m not really hungry.” She set Hadley at the plate with no crust and smiled. “How’d you know?”
“Educated guess.” He didn’t have a whole lot of knowledge when it came to kids, but he was going to do his best. He pointed at the plate on the other side of the kid. “Even if you’re not hungry, you need to eat. It’s important to keep up your energy.” Something his parents had taught him a long time ago. The O’Malleys had only been on the brink of war once that he could remember, but the risk was always there. It didn’t matter what kind of crisis showed up, they were expected to keep functioning as if the world wasn’t falling apart around them. It was great in theory, but he’d seen it in practice when Devlin died. There was something so wrong about moving on with life while the world was falling apart around them.
“I don’t know.”
He angled his body away from Hadley and ran his hand down Olivia’s spine. As much as he didn’t want to traumatize the kid, being this close without touching Olivia, even innocently, felt unnatural. “We might have to bolt with little-to-no notice. If you’re ready to pass out from exhaustion and hunger, you’re not going to be able to keep up.” Yeah, it was harsh and, no, he’d never leave her behind, but he needed to get through to her. If she didn’t take care of herself—or let him take care of her—they were going to be in trouble.
“Fine. I’ll eat.” She grabbed a sippy cup he hadn’t noticed and poured Hadley’s milk into it. After depositing that in front of her daughter, she dropped into her own chair.
“Good.” He took the seat across from her and went to work on his own sandwich. Truth be told, he wasn’t really hungry either, but since he’d just made a big deal about eating to Olivia, he had to follow his own advice. He watched Hadley out of the corner of his eye, amused that she seemed to be smearing more peanut butter and jelly on her face than she was getting into her mouth. She downed half her cup of milk and sat back with a burp that would have done any one of his brothers proud. Cillian grinned. “Nice.”
For her part, Olivia looked horrified. “Oh my God, I’m sorry.”
“Why? Compliments to the chef.” His mother would have sent him a death glare if he’d belched at the dinner table, but he wasn’t about to tell Olivia that. He sat back with a sigh. “So, what’s next?”
“I need to get this one cleaned up, and settled in, but then…” Her gaze landed on him, a low heat kindling there. “Then we’ll see.”
“Olivia.” He took a deep breath, trying to get his body’s instant reaction to her tone under control. “Let’s get you guys set up in one of the spare suites. That should meet your needs nicely.” Though, truth be told, there was suddenly one specific need he was looking forward to meeting. He glanced at the clock on the wall. From the level of Hadley’s stickiness, he had a good fifteen to twenty minutes to touch base with Mark and do a perimeter check of his own before they settled in for the night. Hopefully that would be enough to keep him distracted from the fact that he and Olivia pretty much had the house to themselves.