Wild in the Moment by Jennifer Greene Read Free Book Online Page A

kind of cane. And some ibuprofen. When you get back, you go for the couch, we’ll get your weight off the ankle and ice it.”
    â€œI can do all that.”
    He kept singing that refrain all day. Daisy might have become exasperated except that, damn, he kept getting cuter by the hour. Every time she started to do something, he crawled after her, determined to either help or do it himself. After being prey to the most dependent guy in the universe for the past several years, Teague’s bullheadedness was a treat.
    â€œI know how to get the generator started,” he said.
    â€œI’m sure you do. And it’s been years since I watched my dad do ours when we were growing up. I’m not sure I remember what he did, or that I can do it besides. But the generator’s still in the basement.”
    â€œSo?”
    â€œSo you can’t get down to the basement with that ankle. So it has to be me. Go sit on that couch. ”
    â€œI’ll sit at the top of the stairs in case you come up with questions.”
    She screwed off the sweeper end of a broom to create a makeshift cane. Brought in another load of logs. Tended the fire. Battled the generator in the basement, couldn’t figure it out, braved Mr. Cunningham’s desk to see if she could find a file of appliance instructions, tried a second time to get the generator going. Failed again.
    So they were going to be cold. At least they had the fire and firewood. Nobody was going to get frostbite or die or anything. But if the darn wind would quit howling and the sky quit dumping buckets, the power would have a chance to come back on. Then the snowstorm would just be a pain in the behind, but not really uncomfortable.
    â€œI can go down in the basement,” Teague argued again.
    â€œYes. But what if you fell on that ankle? I couldn’t possibly carry you back upstairs.”
    â€œI wouldn’t fall.”
    He was so male. Only a male would make such a ridiculous statement. By that time she’d fixed them both an early dinner. “Eat,” she said, looking to divert him.
    It worked. She looked at the wound on his head every time she could sneak a glance—which wasn’t easy, when he kept claiming it was fine. It wasn’t remotely fine. The gash was a good three inches, with a lump under it that looked bruised and swollen. On the other hand, she reasoned, he couldn’t be too injured if he could eat like a wolf at his last meal.
    â€œI don’t understand how you could make this out of a nonexistent kitchen,” he said.
    â€œAre you kidding? This is the kind of cooking that’s all fun. You get to use your imagination instead of just opening a can and punching a microwave.” Truthfully, he was giving her a bunch of unwarranted praise. She hadn’t been that creative, just unearthed some clothes hangers to twist into spits, then raided the Cunninghams’ freezer for a couple of steaks. She was going to owe them all kinds of supplies when this was over with. Anyway, she’d rubbed some garlic and tarragon and a few other surprises on the steaks. Wrapped some potatoes in foil. Added this and that. The thing was, everything always tasted good by fire. It’s not as if she’d pulled off a miracle.
    â€œIt wouldn’t be so hard if we just got the generator going. I know I could do it—”
    That again. If she kept him out of the basement, it’d be a miracle. She tried diverting him again. “So exactly how did you get into the demolition business?”
    â€œDemolition?”
    â€œYeah. You know. Tearing up kitchens. Tearing down walls. Getting to use power tools all day, make noise and lots of sawdust. I mean, have you always had this calling, or did you just never grow up?”
    He almost choked—but Teague, it was clear, was never going to waste a good bite of steak, even when he had to fight not to laugh.
    â€œI was playing with wood from the time I was a