Storming Meg by Pamela Burford

Author:Pamela Burford
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: love triangle second chance, second chance romance novels, divorced hero, bad boy daddy, stranded romance, romantic comedy mystery, mystery suspense romance, thanksgiving romance, family reunion, quirky characters, romance with children, wild ones
Publisher: Radical Poodle Press
Published: 2016-09-19T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

“MOMMY AND MR. KENT are yelling.”

“I can hear that, sweetheart.” Jack slid Marie’s breakfast onto her plate: her custom-ordered Daddy’s Special Pancake, shaped to her specifications. When he’d constructed his first pancake bunny years ago, thus instituting a family tradition, he couldn’t have guessed that one day he’d find himself trying to fashion a unicorn out of Aunt Jemima batter.

“What’s that?” she asked, pointing.

“That’s its horn.” He studied the misshapen lump of batter extending from the horse’s head. “It’s having a bad-horn day. What’ll it be, Nora?”

Daisy already had her turtle. Turtles, he had down. They took all of about ten seconds. Big blob, foot, foot, foot, foot, head, little pointy tail.

“I want an angel,” Nora said. “Like Uncle Pete. He’s an angel now.”

Jack ruffled her hair tenderly, thinking that if he was going to craft Uncle Pete in pancake batter, he’d better practice those horns. And forked tails while he was at it. “An angel it is.”

An especially vociferous screech from the living room brought everyone’s head up. It was just as well they couldn’t make out Meg’s exact words, although a few snippets did rocket through the door. Pompous! Overbearing! Nitpicky! Plus a smattering of those choice terms sure to curdle Mother Kent’s Geritol.

“Daddy, why are you smiling?” Marie asked.

“Oh, I’m just happy to be with my girls.” Batter sizzled in the pan as he poured out an angel with less-than-symmetrical wings. Its halo looked more like a sombrero.

After a minute he flipped his creation, one ear cocked to the escalating squabble in the living room. Winston didn’t strike him as the type to lose his cool, much less get physical with a woman. Nevertheless, Jack deemed it prudent to pull in the reins. The girls had already gotten an earful. Enough was enough. His little practical joke had probably outlived its amusement potential, anyway.

Too bad. It was fun while it lasted.

He quickly deposited Nora’s south-of-the-border angel on her plate and pushed through the doorway. The combatants faced off near the far wall next to the mantel: Meg flushed with anger, fists planted on her hips; her betrothed in a posture of supreme arrogance, arms crossed over his chest.

She snapped, “Give me some credit, Winston. What are you afraid I’ll say when you introduce me to your mother? ‘How the hell are you, Mrs. Kent, I’m damn proud to be marrying your son’?”

“When I’m satisfied that you’ve expunged such slatternly words from your vocabulary, then I’ll—”

“Slatternly?”

“Then I’ll consider introducing you to Mother.”

She got right in his face, forcing him to back up to the wall. Jack was gratified to see her venting her temper on someone else, especially this particular someone else. He hung back, knowing they were unaware of his presence.

She poked a finger in Winston’s chest. “If you stop acting like such a prissy old maid, then I might consider going through with this marriage.”

“Such name-calling is unbecoming, Meg.” He smiled suggestively. “And so pointless when you and I both know how turned on you are right now.

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