Free Always Florence by Muriel Jensen

ask me something,” he reminded her. “Or tell me something.”
    A car stopped behind Nate and a crowd of children leaped out, half of them headed for Nate’s house, the other half for Bobbie’s.
    She pointed her wand at him. “We’ll talk again. Goodbye.” She ran back across her yard with witchy dignity to intercept the trick-or-treaters.
    Monet, sitting on the back porch, ran for cover as the children approached.
    Nate pulled the car up into his usual spot, gathered briefcase and computer and went inside as Stella distributed candy into outstretched bags. In the kitchen he dropped his things on a chair and went to pour a cup of coffee, hoping he could down a few sips before the boys reappeared.
    “Bobbie’s a lovely neighbor,” Stella said, coming back inside. She opened a bag of treats and refilled the large orange bowl she’d placed on the table. A bony plastic hand hovered over the candy, descending whenever someone reached for a piece. The boys thought it hilarious.
    Nate leaned against the counter and savored the caffeine. He was going to need it. “She’s a little bit of a buttinsky,” he said absently.
    Stella made an impatient sound at that assessment. “I think it was providence that brought her here.” She arranged the treats, eliciting a grisly laugh from the bowl as the hand descended on hers. “She’s just the kind of woman this household needs.
    “You can stop it right now, Stella. You can matchmake for your son, but not for me. And she’s a woman with plans, anyway. She’s moving to Italy after the first of the year.”
    Stella nodded. “To study art. She told me. She could do that here for the right man.”
    “No. She’s not some little romantic waiting for her Prince Charming. She wants to study art in Florence. She’s determined to dedicate herself to it without the complications of a personal life.”
    “Well, you certainly would complicate a woman’s life.”
    Nate straightened away from the counter. “I beg your pardon?”
    “Come on, Nathan. You’re charming and generous and very appealing, but you’re afraid to go the distance.”
    “Hey!” He only half pretended injury. “I’m going the distance with two little boys and a business. I don’t have time for romance.”
    “I’m talking love, not just romance. You can’t be afraid to face it head-on.”
    “What makes you think I’m afraid?”
    “You’re thirty-five, handsome, intelligent, successful and you know how to treat a woman. Hunter says your single female clients and a few of the married ones come to the office all the time for your opinion on their finances.”
    “That’s business. And he’s not supposed to talk about what goes on at the office.”
    “He didn’t share any details.” She gave Nate a knowing smile. “Just that you haven’t a clue that they’re after you. And you’re a smart man. So, you mustn’t want to know.”
    The doorbell rang. She picked up the laughing bowl and, with a parting wink, headed for the door. “You boys have fun,” she said.
    Sheamus raced from the downstairs bathroom as Dylan thundered down the stairs and out the back door. Sheamus caught his uncle’s hand and pulled him. “Come on! Hurry!”
    Nate let himself be dragged along, thinking indignantly, Afraid? Me?
    * * *
    N OTHING SEPARATED THE MEN from the boys quite like Astoria’s annual Monster Bash. The excitement generated by hundreds of hypercharged children, and parents trying to maintain some degree of control, was an all-out sensory assault. Nate felt as though it took over his heartbeat and thrummed through his body like a blood tsunami.
    And the candy, cake, punch, contests and prizes only revved the kids higher.
    While Dylan and Sheamus posed with dozens of other boys for a superhero photo taken by the Daily Astorian’ s photographer, Nate tried to stay out of the fray. But two little bite-size fairies collided with his knees. One of the girls spilled punch on his slacks, and the other got