“Naah, I think we’ll be fine.” He kicked off his wet shoes. “I’m hopping in the shower.”
He headed for the bathroom, where he stripped off his trunks and turned on the faucet. His shower was quick, just a few minutes under the spray to warm up and wash the salt water off, and then he toweled off and headed to his bedroom. He threw on a pair of gray sweatpants and a black wifebeater, listening to the whine of the wind and the pounding of the rain. Outside his window, the sky had grown even darker, nearly black now. And it was only ten thirty in the morning.
As he stared at the rain streaking the windowpane, a pang of worry tugged on his gut. Shit. It was Sunday. That meant Miranda was teaching at the dance school today. Hopefully she’d looked out the window when she’d woken up this morning and had the sense to cancel the day’s classes.
Maybe he ought to check in, though. Just in case.
Without allowing himself to question his actions, he grabbed his cell phone and dialed Miranda’s number.
He immediately got bumped over to voice mail.
“Miranda, it’s Seth,” he said gruffly. “The weather’s shitty. Call me back.”
Not the most articulate message, but it got the job done. Too bad it didn’t guarantee a speedy response—it took three hours for her to get back to him, and when her voice came over the line, she sounded harried and annoyed.
“I saw your number on my phone,” she snapped. “What do you want, Seth?”
“Wow, remind me never to be concerned about you,” he said sarcastically. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
She had the decency to sound ashamed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped like that. Things are ridiculously crazy here.”
“Where are you?”
“The school.”
Another wave of worry washed over him. “Have you taken a look outside, Miranda? There’s a fucking tropical storm out there. Go home.”
“Trust me, I’m trying,” she said irritably. “I already cancelled the afternoon lessons, but a lot of the kids that were here for the morning classes can’t get in touch with their parents, so I’m trying to organize a carpool.”
“You need help?” He was already marching to the door. “I can be there in fifteen.”
“No, it’s fine. Really, Seth, don’t come here. The other teachers and I can handle it. We just need to bundle up the kids, pack up their stuff, and then we’re getting everyone home. I just can’t leave until Jase gets here.”
“Who’s Jase?”
Her tone took on a bit of an edge. “Jason. My son.”
Right. Her kid. Why did he keep forgetting she had one? Wait, make that two.
Probably because you don’t want to remember.
He ignored the internal taunt. Fine, so he wasn’t particularly thrilled that Miranda had two children, but that slice of misfortune wouldn’t stop him from doing his damndest to get her in bed. He’d already made it clear he wasn’t applying for the position of her baby-daddy, and he also wasn’t going to pretend to like kids just to sleep with the woman. Still, acknowledging the rugrats’ existence couldn’t hurt his cause.
“Your son’s not with you?”
She sounded upset. “No, he was at a friend’s house. The parents are dropping him at the school. They just called to say they’re ten minutes away.”
“Good. Once they arrive, get everyone home. The roads aren’t too bad yet, but the weather reports are saying there’s some risk of flooding.” He paused. “Might be some power outages too. You got candles and flashlights at home?”
“Yes, Seth. I also have canned food and bottled water and something called common sense and basic survival knowledge.” Her sarcasm reverberated through the line.
“Good,” he said again. “Call or text when you get home.”
“If I remember.”
“Don’t fucking give me that. If I don’t hear from you in an hour, I’ll get in my car and—”
“Fine,” she interjected. “I’ll call you.”
With that, she hung up, leaving him staring at the phone in frustration. That woman drove him absolutely insane. So fucking independent, determined to do everything on her own, even when she desperately needed help.
He could see why his mother had worried about Miranda moving out here. The women who danced at the Paradis were like a close-knit family, always looking out for one another. They’d mothered Seth to the point of exasperation when he was a kid, and he knew Miranda had experienced that same maternal attention and sisterly devotion. He also knew she hadn’t once asked any of them for help in the four years she’d worked there.
Now that she’d left the Strip, she was completely on her own, raising two kids alone, and Seth worried that she’d never be able to swallow her pride and seek him out if she was truly in trouble.
Or at least that’s what he thought before the doorbell rang nearly an hour later.
Dylan, who’d been watching the storm coverage on the living room television, glanced at Seth in bewilderment. “Expecting anyone?”