Seth’s voice was oddly gentle. “It’s okay. Tell me what happened when you got home.”
“Our place flooded. I opened the front door to find three feet of water in our hallway.” She gestured to her soaking-wet leggings and ballet flats. “I waded in there to assess the damage…” Her throat closed up, making it hard to continue. “I guess a few sewers overflowed, and there was also something wrong with my building’s gutters—my landlord said something about downspouts draining too close to the foundation.”
Seth’s expression turned grim. “How bad was it?”
“Bad. All four ground-floor apartments flooded, and with the rain not easing up out there, it’s bound to get worse.”
A wave of panic suddenly hit her. Oh God. Their entire life was in that apartment. What the hell was she supposed to do now?
Her landlord, a sweet Italian man named Marco, was already at the building when Miranda and the kids got home. One of the other tenants whose apartment flooded had called him, and although Marco had assured the affected residents that insurance would cover their lost belongings and no one would have to pay for the renovations, that didn’t solve the dilemma of where she and her children were supposed to live for the next week or so. The only people she knew in town were the teachers who worked for her at the dance school, and she didn’t feel comfortable asking any of them for a place to stay.
And she certainly couldn’t stay with Seth. It was bad enough that she was about to ask him to spend the night. But a whole week, maybe more? No way.
Miranda forced herself to gain some control over the panic swirling in her belly and focused on Seth, who was watching her with concern. Funny, he hadn’t made a single smartass remark since she’d showed up. He also hadn’t paid a lick of attention to her kids, who were beginning to whine.
“Mom, my shoes are wet,” Jason said miserably.
“And I want Belinda!” Sophie whimpered.
Miranda stifled a sigh. She wasn’t looking forward to telling Sophie that her favorite doll had been floating in the murky lake that used to be their home.
Rather than answer the twins, she looked imploringly at Seth. “I hate to ask this, but can we…do you mind if we stay here tonight? With you?”
“Mommy, I want Belinda!”
“My feet are cold!”
What could only be described as terror flared in Seth’s normally unfazed expression. She didn’t blame him. The stress of the day was finally taking its toll on the twins, whose voices were increasing in volume.
“I. Want. Belinda.” A sob slipped from Sophie’s trembling lips.
“Seth?” Miranda asked quietly, studying his face.
“Of course you can crash here tonight,” a male voice announced.
A tall, blond man in his late twenties appeared in the hallway, his handsome features creased with displeasure as he glanced at Seth. Then his face relaxed and he squatted down, shooting a big smile at Sophie, who made loud hiccupping sounds as she cried and clutched Miranda’s hand. Even Jason’s eyes were shining with tears, and her son was normally way too macho to cry in public.
“Hey there, squirts,” the blond guy said cheerfully. “Why you all wet? Is it raining out there or something?”
Neither child said a word for a moment, and then Sophie giggled.
“Duh,” Jason said, his tears all but forgotten.
“Weird. I hadn’t noticed. I’m Dylan, by the way. But you can call me Mr. Awesome.”
Sophie giggled again.
Miranda gawked at the gorgeous man—Seth’s roommate, she deduced—grateful for his successful defusing of the tears-and-tantrum bomb that had almost detonated.
“I’m Miranda,” she said, extending her hand in his direction. “And this is Sophie and Jason.”
“Pleasure to meet you, honey.” Dylan leaned in for the handshake. His grip was strong, his palm warm, and his green eyes twinkled with genuine delight as he graciously shook her kids’ hands too, eliciting yet another high-pitched laugh from Sophie.
“Did you see, Mom? We shaked hands! Like grown-ups,” Sophie bubbled.
“Shook hands,” Miranda corrected. “And now how about we get you out of those rain slickers and see if Seth and Dylan would be willing to feed us?”
She was probably being presumptuous, especially since Seth hadn’t said a single word in the past five minutes, but clearly his roommate was okay with her and the twins being here, so technically she didn’t need the green light from Seth. Besides, wasn’t he the one who kept checking up on her and offering to help her out?
Well, he finally got his wish—she needed his help, even though it killed her to admit it. If there was one thing she hated doing, it was relying on other people. For anything. Her friends in Vegas used to tease her about her inability to accept outside assistance. They accused her of being stubborn and proud, but the reason she preferred doing things on her own wasn’t because she didn’t want to feel like a charity case. It was because she didn’t trust anyone but herself to get shit done. She’d placed her faith in far too many people who had let her down, and she refused to be the one left holding the bag ever again.
But at the moment, she had no choice. Her apartment had turned into Atlantis and all of her belongings were most likely destroyed. Her only possessions in the world were the clothes on her back, her purse and the Ford sedan parked in Seth’s driveway, provided it didn’t float away.