Free The Final Tap by Amanda Flower Page A

carrots and toss them into a large stew pot. I already had butter, onions, and herbs melding together at the bottom of the pot.
    â€œIs that for me?” Hayden sounded like he’d much rather eat real ants than whatever I was cooking.
    â€œI thought you liked vegetable stew,” I teased.
    â€œYuck!”
    â€œThe stew is for Chase. He’s stopping by after work. Since I doubt he’ll have eaten by the time he gets here, I thought I would make him something.”
    Hayden wrinkled his nose. “And you’re feeding him that?” He acted like serving Chase vegetable stew was the greatest insult I could think of bestowing on the paramedic.
    I laughed. “Adults like this kind of stuff. It’s perfect for a cold winter’s night.”
    He didn’t look convinced and popped a raisin in his mouth.
    â€œDon’t worry. You’re eating mac and cheese.”
    He pumped his fist. “Yes!”

nine
    Hayden was finishing his mac and cheese when there was a knock on the cottage’s front door, promptly at 5:45. I gave the stew pot one final stir before I replaced the lid and caught myself checking my reflection in it. I dropped the lid onto the pot and told myself to snap out of it before marching across the living room to the front door.
    I opened the door to find snow falling all around Chase, giving him an ethereal look. If a faceless man could be considered ethereal, that is. His scarf was wrapped so tightly around his head that all I could see were his warm chocolate brown eyes, which seemed to be in a constant state of amusement.
    I broke eye contact and stepped back. “Come in before you freeze to death.” The temperature had dropped with the setting of the sun.
    He stomped the snow off his boots onto the front porch as best as he could before stepping over the threshold. I shut the door behind him, and he started the long process of removing his winter gear: scarf, hat, gloves, coat, and down vest. I held out my arms and he piled them on.
    He placed his hands on his flat stomach. “Do I smell dinner cooking?”
    Hayden looked up from his mac and cheese. “I got mac and cheese. Mom made stew for you.” He wrinkled his nose. “You can’t have my mac and cheese.”
    Chase’s laughing brown eyes met mine. “You made dinner for me?” He lowered his voice so that Hayden couldn’t overhear. “May I consider this a date ?”
    I hung his coat and winter gear over the back of the sofa. “I thought you might be hungry if you just got off work. I would do it for any friend .”
    He grinned and stepped out of his boots, leaving them by the front door. “Your friendship is a start.” He winked at me.
    I turned away to hide my blush. “Hayden, if you’re finished eating, you and Tiffin can watch TV on my bed until Chase and I finish dinner.”
    My son’s eyes sparkled, and he gulped down the last of his milk. It wasn’t often that I let him watch television on a school night. As much as I wanted Chase not to get the wrong idea and think this was a date, I still wanted to talk to him about Beeson before bringing up babysitting, and I couldn’t do that with Hayden in the room.
    As if he was afraid I would change my mind, Hayden shouted for Tiffin, and the pair galloped up the stairs. I listened until I heard the bedroom door slam.
    â€œHe must really like TV,” Chase said.
    â€œIt’s a special treat. I don’t let him watch much.” I shrugged.
    â€œWhy doesn’t that surprise me? I can tell you’re one of those kinds of moms,” he teased.
    I put my hands on my hips. “What does that mean?”
    He held up his hands as if in surrender. “It was a compliment. You’re one of those moms who are all about your kid. I respect that and find it very attractive.”
    I rolled my eyes, and for the second time that day, I was glad that Hayden wasn’t there to