Free When Sparks Fly by Kristine Raymond, Andrea Michelle, Grace Augustine, Maryann Jordan, B. Maddox, J. M. Nash, Anne L. Parks Page A

over, he gave her a kiss on the cheek. “How’re you doing, Mom? How’s Dad?”
    “We’re both doing fine. Very well rested after our nap. Did you see what Monica did? She made supper and dessert and…what is it?”
    “What’s what?” he asked, stepping over to the sink to wash his hands though he’d already showered at his apartment.
    “I know that look; I’ve seen it before.” She studied her son’s face. “You heard our conversation, didn’t you? About her ex-husband?”
    “I think the biscuits are ready,” he replied evasively.
    “Don’t change the subject. Any fool with eyes can see that you like her. Keep in mind that she’s not staying. As soon as her car’s fixed, she’ll be on her way. I remember what you were like with Hayley. I’d hate to see you go through that again.”
    “Monica is not Hayley. I’m a big boy, Mom. I know what I’m doing.”
    “I hope so. No matter how old you are, I’m still your mother. I love you and it breaks my heart to see you hurting. Now take those biscuits out of the oven before they burn.”
    Laughing at her abrupt change in conversation, he grabbed a potholder and pulled the baking sheet out, placing it on top of the stove. The biscuits were golden brown and smelled delicious. He couldn’t resist breaking off a piece and popping it into his mouth, the tiny morsel bursting with flavor. Piling the rest of them into a cloth lined basket, he carried it over to the table as Monica walked in with Kimber, each with an arm looped through one of Bill’s. Leroy pranced around the trio, his tongue lolling out of his mouth and wagging his stub tail.
    “Hello,” Monica said, smiling at Joe. “Did you have a good afternoon?”
    “I did,” he answered simply, his eyes drinking her in. She was wearing a floral sundress that buttoned up the front, modest yet alluring. Her hair fell in soft waves to her bare shoulders, the ends brushing against her smooth skin. Strappy sandals covered her feet and accentuated her slim legs. He returned her smile.
    “Thank you for leaving Leroy here earlier. Kimber enjoys playing with him.”
    “You’re welcome.” He looked over at the girl who had already claimed a seat at the table. “Leroy told me he likes playing with you, too.”
    “He did not!” she protested, giggling at his words. “Doggies can’t talk.”
    “Leroy can,” Joe assured her. “He’s a special doggie.”
    “Grandpa Bill, can Leroy really talk?” It only made sense to ask the man who seemed to know everything.
    “Well, dumplin’, I think my boy Joe, here, might be pulling your leg,” he answered solemnly.
    “Don’t let him do that, Grandpa. It’ll hurt!” The adults laughed as Kimber looked confusedly from one to another. Finally Monica explained that Joe wasn’t really going to pull her leg and Bill was only teasing. Frowning, she gave her mother’s explanation some thought then said, “Okay but I still don’t think that Leroy can talk.”
    “A very wise child you’ve got there,” Bill said with a wink. “Must take after her mother.”
    “I don’t know about that,” Monica replied, brushing off the compliment. “I do know that supper is getting cold. Why don’t we all take a seat?”
    Complying with her request, they moved to the table, Joe making sure to sit in the chair directly across from her. He grinned as their eyes met, his heart beating hard in his chest. Despite his mother’s earlier caution, he knew he could get used to this view every day for the rest of his life.
    “Everything looks delicious, dear,” Fran remarked, passing bowls of chowder around the table.
    “Thank you. I hope you like it. It’s a recipe my grandmother taught me.”
    “Oh? Where does she live?”
    “She’s passed away now but she and my grandfather lived in Wisconsin all their life. I used to spend my summers at their farm when I was a girl. Your home reminds me so much of theirs,” Monica responded wistfully.
    “I’m sorry for your loss.