foreigner to home life, Mitch hadn’t been around ‘normal kids,’ let alone any kids in such a long time, but he had been absorbed easily into this group. Kris had put him under a spell of adoration. “Sure, why not,” he agreed, allowing the child to pour ketchup over his noodles.
Both women at the table raised their eyebrows. Lorna shook her head almost imperceptibly.
“It’s fine,” he said, holding her gaze, enjoying the gentle warmth of her light brown eyes. “I like ketchup.” Which he did—on French fries. Lasagna? Maybe not so much.
“Mmm-umm, me too.” Kris took another large bite of his noodles smeared in the bright-red goo. “You really a policeman?”
“Yes, I am,” he said, mirroring the child’s movements, putting a heaping helping of lasagna on his fork and smearing it with ketchup. Here goes nothing. Let’s hope I can keep it down. “What are you going to be when you grow up?”
“An Avenger!”
Mitch almost choked on his food, taking a large gulp from his water glass. “An Avenger, eh? Just like Tony Stark?”
Kris jumped up from the table to place his hands firmly on his hips. “Maybe Captain America. I a superhero!”
Mitch started to laugh before catching the set jaw line in the young boy’s face suggesting his being a superhero was no laughing matter. Seeing the child’s grandmother and Lorna barely holding it together, he understood they knew better than to laugh at the boy’s ambitions.
“Come on and sit back down at the table,” Lorna instructed. “Finish your meal.”
“Yes, Mama.”
Supper was cleared, and Mariam shooed he and Lorna along as she took Kris by the hand. “You two go now and catch up,” she said, shooting a meaningful gaze at Lorna Mitch clearly understood. He lowered his chin, hiding his own smile of satisfaction. “I’m going to give this young man a bath.”
“I Super Kris!”
“Yes, indeed you are,” Mitch heard the older woman say as he and Lorna moved out to the wide front porch where a swing sat off to the side, sheltered by a thick hedge of lilac bushes.
Off in the distance, the sky was a painting mixed with pinks and oranges as the sun prepared to settle for the night. Standing close to the railing, Mitch regarded Lorna. The play of uncertainty across her features made him ache to cup her cheek and ease her worry. He remembered this vulnerable side so well—like yesterday when she tripped over the library carpet. Like then, his heart twisted, wanting her to feel comfortable. He took her stiff hand to lead her towards the swing.
She resisted slightly, and he tugged just a bit. “Come on,” he said, coaxing. “We’ll catch up.”
She sat down heavily with a sigh on the other side of the swing. “Listen, Mitch…”
The distance between them was too far. Overcome with impatience, he decided he had waited long enough. All day. Then through supper. Yesterday after pulling her over. The last five years, in fact. His lips cut her off. He couldn’t help it. Not one bit. As soon as she sat down, luscious curves enhanced by the girl-next-door shift of a yellow dress, he became determined to taste her lips. Drawn to her like a moth to the flame, he had to know if her body still responded to his as he remembered. He needed to know—once and for all—that he did not imagine the connection they had before.
Pulling back to scrutinize her features, try to read her, he wrapped his hand around the base of her neck enjoying the silk of her hair as it slipped over his fingers when he pulled her face back towards him. Without waiting for an invitation, his lips sliced across hers, so full and soft against his own. He tilted his head as his mouth moved over hers, his tongue running along the edge, tasting the citrus of her lip gloss. “Yumm.” he purred before lifting his head again, only slightly, to see her eyes flutter.
Encouraged, he continued.
He was rewarded when her lips parted, yielding to him, and he didn’t need a written
Both women at the table raised their eyebrows. Lorna shook her head almost imperceptibly.
“It’s fine,” he said, holding her gaze, enjoying the gentle warmth of her light brown eyes. “I like ketchup.” Which he did—on French fries. Lasagna? Maybe not so much.
“Mmm-umm, me too.” Kris took another large bite of his noodles smeared in the bright-red goo. “You really a policeman?”
“Yes, I am,” he said, mirroring the child’s movements, putting a heaping helping of lasagna on his fork and smearing it with ketchup. Here goes nothing. Let’s hope I can keep it down. “What are you going to be when you grow up?”
“An Avenger!”
Mitch almost choked on his food, taking a large gulp from his water glass. “An Avenger, eh? Just like Tony Stark?”
Kris jumped up from the table to place his hands firmly on his hips. “Maybe Captain America. I a superhero!”
Mitch started to laugh before catching the set jaw line in the young boy’s face suggesting his being a superhero was no laughing matter. Seeing the child’s grandmother and Lorna barely holding it together, he understood they knew better than to laugh at the boy’s ambitions.
“Come on and sit back down at the table,” Lorna instructed. “Finish your meal.”
“Yes, Mama.”
Supper was cleared, and Mariam shooed he and Lorna along as she took Kris by the hand. “You two go now and catch up,” she said, shooting a meaningful gaze at Lorna Mitch clearly understood. He lowered his chin, hiding his own smile of satisfaction. “I’m going to give this young man a bath.”
“I Super Kris!”
“Yes, indeed you are,” Mitch heard the older woman say as he and Lorna moved out to the wide front porch where a swing sat off to the side, sheltered by a thick hedge of lilac bushes.
Off in the distance, the sky was a painting mixed with pinks and oranges as the sun prepared to settle for the night. Standing close to the railing, Mitch regarded Lorna. The play of uncertainty across her features made him ache to cup her cheek and ease her worry. He remembered this vulnerable side so well—like yesterday when she tripped over the library carpet. Like then, his heart twisted, wanting her to feel comfortable. He took her stiff hand to lead her towards the swing.
She resisted slightly, and he tugged just a bit. “Come on,” he said, coaxing. “We’ll catch up.”
She sat down heavily with a sigh on the other side of the swing. “Listen, Mitch…”
The distance between them was too far. Overcome with impatience, he decided he had waited long enough. All day. Then through supper. Yesterday after pulling her over. The last five years, in fact. His lips cut her off. He couldn’t help it. Not one bit. As soon as she sat down, luscious curves enhanced by the girl-next-door shift of a yellow dress, he became determined to taste her lips. Drawn to her like a moth to the flame, he had to know if her body still responded to his as he remembered. He needed to know—once and for all—that he did not imagine the connection they had before.
Pulling back to scrutinize her features, try to read her, he wrapped his hand around the base of her neck enjoying the silk of her hair as it slipped over his fingers when he pulled her face back towards him. Without waiting for an invitation, his lips sliced across hers, so full and soft against his own. He tilted his head as his mouth moved over hers, his tongue running along the edge, tasting the citrus of her lip gloss. “Yumm.” he purred before lifting his head again, only slightly, to see her eyes flutter.
Encouraged, he continued.
He was rewarded when her lips parted, yielding to him, and he didn’t need a written
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