Free Ring of Fire by Susan Fox Page B

Jayden nor Mary was in the room.
    Eric glanced out the front window, noting that it was dusk. It was the middle of September, and the days were definitely getting shorter.
    Lark had flicked on the fire and turned on some music, something classical and relaxing. “Is this okay?” she asked. “Or are you a hard rock or heavy metal guy?”
    â€œThey have their place and time, but this isn’t it. I’m surprised you’re not playing country music. I thought that was all people listened to around here.” He took a seat on the couch, hoping she’d sit beside him. She had put the bottle and glasses on the coffee table, and he poured wine.
    â€œIt is ubiquitous.” She came over and picked up a filled glass, and then wandered over to the window and closed the drapes. “And I do like it—but like you said, in its place and time. Mom’s a fan of classical music, so I grew up with it. In fact, that’s where I got my name.”
    â€œReally? I did think it was an unusual one. Pretty, though. No”—he shook his head—“scratch that. Not the right word.” For the name or for the woman. “Distinctive and striking. And it suits you.”
    â€œThanks.” She sat down, choosing the couch but not sitting close to him. “It’s from a piece of music called ‘The Lark Ascending,’ composed by Ralph Vaughan Williams. Mom heard it on the radio when she was pregnant, and loved it. She bought the tape—back in the days of cassette tapes—and listened to it over and over. That was a hard time for her and she said the music was beautiful, poignant, and uplifting. It always made her feel good.”
    â€œThat’s nice, though I’m sorry she had a rough time.”
    â€œMy biological father was an asshole,” she said bluntly. “Drank too much, thought too highly of himself. White guy. Fell for my mother but didn’t treat her like she was his equal.”
    He reflected on that. “The woman she is today wouldn’t put up with that kind of sh—uh, treatment.”
    â€œNo. But she was a teenager, and inexperienced. She thought she was in love, and believe me, that can blind you to someone’s faults.” Lark’s sour expression made him wonder if that had happened to her, with Jayden’s father. “When she told him she was pregnant, he kicked her out of his apartment.”
    â€œJesus. But he was such a jerk, it sounds like you guys were better off without him.”
    â€œMom figured that out, too.”
    â€œShe raised you on her own?”
    Lark nodded. “She could’ve gone after him for child support, but she didn’t.”
    Was Lark and Jayden’s story similar? Subterfuge and games weren’t Eric’s style. So he came right out and said, “If I’m out of line, tell me to take a step back. But I’m wondering about Jayden’s father. He said today that he doesn’t have one.”
    Lark wrinkled her nose. “The Cantrell women have a curse. They fall for the wrong men. Mom’s mother did it, Mom did it, and then I repeated the pattern. I even married the guy.” She raised her wineglass and took a slug.
    Despite the serious topic, Eric couldn’t help but admire the picture she made sitting beside him, not quite close enough to touch. Her bare shoulders and arms gleamed in the warm light; her neck was long and elegant as she tipped back her head to swallow. Her breasts pressed firmly against the soft cotton of her top, the wine in the glass matched the red of the fabric, and her dark hair and long, black-clad legs made a dramatic counterpoint. He’d never been much of a guy for art appreciation, but this was one work of art he could look at for a very long time.
    But Lark was so much more than just an attractive picture, and he wanted to know her better. “What went wrong?” He sure as hell hoped she hadn’t been with a man