Read Online His Ordinary Life by Linda Winfree - Free Book Online Page A

in case kids or parents have questions, and there’s always one or two who can’t resist abusing it.”
    Anna giggled. “Last week, some kid kept calling and leaving Christmas carols on our voice mail.”
    Barbara glanced down the hall. Blake’s door stood open, but only silence drifted out. She looked at Del, eyebrows lifted in wordless query.
    Del shrugged, shoulders rolling beneath the white cotton of his buttondown shirt. “He’s reading and listening to music with his headphones.” A rueful grin curved his mouth. “I instituted an open-door policy until further notice.”
    “Well, at least he can’t slam it.”
    “I took care of that, too.”
    Just as she’d expected, he was taking over, making it look oh, so easy. The old knot of insecurity tightened and she drew herself up. No, she wasn’t that Barbara anymore, the one who couldn’t do anything without checking with Del first, the one who worried over every mistake.
    She nodded, a curt movement of her chin. “We’ll have to decide on some ground rules tomorrow. I need a shower, and those research papers won’t grade themselves.” On the way to the master bedroom, she paused and glanced over her shoulder. “Do you need to pick up anything? Clothes, toiletries?”
    Del shook his head, his eyes unreadable. “I had some stuff at Mama’s. I went by for it earlier.”
    “Good. I’ll get your linens after I clean up.”
    “Thanks.” His crooked half-smile sent familiar shivers through her. She escaped to the room they’d once shared and leaned against the closed door, a hand pressed to her stomach in an attempt to quell a tremor of desire.
    Definitely the longest two nights of her life.
    * * *
    He’d never survive two nights of this. Del stepped beneath a spray of water so cold it took his breath. The simmering desire it didn’t touch. He pushed his wet hair back and tried not to think about Barbara showering at the same time. He failed, his mind invaded by pictures and sensations dredged from old memories. Once upon a time, early morning shared showers had provided privacy before the demands of their days got in the way.
    The memories would be his undoing. Everywhere he turned, something in the house rose to taunt him with the time he’d had everything and how stupidly he’d let it slip away. But you could get it back. The sneaky little voice nudged him again.
    Yeah. Sure. Whatever emotion Barbara had felt for him before had been closer to need than love. That she didn’t plan to let herself need him now was painfully obvious. He’d had to practically beg to stay in the house, and her palpable reluctance stung. She didn’t want him here.
    She didn’t want him, period.
    He shut off the water and stepped out on a fluffy purple rug sporting appliquéd butterflies. Barbara had redone this room while he’d been gone, too. He dried off with a hot pink towel, wondering if Lyssa or Anna had chosen the décor. Somehow, he didn’t see Blake helping to pick out pastel butterflies.
    After folding the towel over the chrome bar, he pulled on a pair of athletic shorts and a white undershirt. Hell, in this house, even his shirt carried memories. How often had Barbara stolen one of his undershirts to use as a makeshift nightgown? How often had he removed those same shirts, baring her curves to his hands and mouth?
    Cold showers were a joke. Arms braced on the counter, head lowered, he concentrated on stifling the unfulfilled desire. Amortization schedules. The cost of new tires for his car. Batting averages for last year’s Braves.
    When he had himself together again, he stepped into the hall. Blake’s door stood open; the girls’ door closed. He rapped a knuckle against Blake’s doorjamb. “Good night, son.”
    Lying on the bed, earphones over his ears, Blake met his gaze for a second then looked away. Del suppressed a frustrated sigh. Somehow, he’d find a way to get through.
    Another rap on the girls’ door. “Good night.”
    “Good night,