When Sparks Fly (5 page)

“Are you finished, baby?” she asked, picking up the plates from the table. “Run along and put your pjs on, okay? I’ll be there in a minute to help you brush your teeth and tuck you in.”

“Okay, Mommy. That was the bestest breakfast supper I ever had. Grandma Fran sure is a good cook!” Ponytail bouncing, Kimber skipped out of the room to get ready for bed.

Smiling at her daughter’s interpretation of an omelet for supper, Monica scraped her uneaten one into the garbage disposal and rinsed away the evidence, glad she was alone. She had no doubt that ‘Grandma Fran’ was a good cook, she just wasn’t in the mood to eat.

Joe was the reason she’d lost her appetite and as she loaded the dishes into the dishwasher, replaying that moment from the bedroom in her mind, she was certain she hadn’t imagined the chemistry between them. The room had practically sizzled with it. So why had he been so quick to leave? Oh yes, that’s right, his date with Lauren.

Giving the counter one last wipe with the dishtowel, she hung it over the faucet to dry. Her mother had always done it that way and Monica had implemented the habit in college. Turning out the light, she walked down the hall to the guest bedroom, taking care to not disturb Fran and Bill, who had retired for the evening, having already said their ‘goodnights’.

After helping Kimber brush her teeth and comb her hair, they snuggled beneath the covers to read a story. It had been a long day, and halfway through Pooh’s latest adventure, the little girl conked out. Monica slipped out of bed and tucked the covers up around her daughter, stroking her cheek and brushing a kiss across her forehead. Picking up her toiletries bag, she crept softly into the adjoining bathroom to perform her own bedtime preparations.

She studied her face in the mirror, trying to see herself through Joe’s eyes. Though still a few years away from forty, tiny wrinkles had settled around the corners of her eyes but her skin was clear, a fact she attributed to her nighttime ritual of scrubbing with facial cleanser followed by a moisturizing cream. A smattering of freckles graced the bridge of her nose, the only physical attribute she’d inherited from her father.

Thick and silky soft, her hair was still a rich, chestnut brown and she passed the occasional strands of gray off as highlights. Due to her non-stop work schedule, she had no need for the gym although she squeezed a Pilates class in whenever she could. As a result, her figure was the same as it had been in college, though the edges were not quite as pronounced and her curves were softer. Turning from the mirror, she picked up her toothbrush and began brushing her teeth.

Why do I care what he thinks of me?
She brushed vigorously, stopping every thirty seconds to spit.
I only met him today, and it’s not like I’m staying here or anything
. Brush, spit, brush, spit.
So maybe there is some sort of attraction but he has a girlfriend. Lauren something-or-other
. She rinsed her mouth out with tap water and wiped the sink clean. Capping her toothpaste, she put it back in her bag and placed it on the shelf above the sink, then turned off the bathroom light and walked into the bedroom.

Sliding into bed next to Kimber, she lay there listening to the soft breaths coming from her sleeping daughter. It was enough, the two of them. They were a family and she didn’t need a man in her life. But when Joe had rested his hands on her shoulders and leaned in, she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t been hoping for a kiss.

‡
Chapter Three

“What the hell is wrong with you, bro? You haven’t sunk a single ball all night,” Loren groused as he laid a stack of bills on the corner of the pool table. Deuce’s was jumping for a Wednesday night and he had to shout to make himself heard over the music coming from the jukebox.

“He’s too busy thinking about a certain new lady in town,” Frankie grinned, picking up the money and making a show of counting it. Joe glared at him and took a swig of beer from his half empty bottle before laying his stick on the table.

“There’s a new lady in town?” Loren asked, his interest piqued. “How come I’m just hearing about it now?”

“Her car broke down just outside of town and Joe was her knight in shining armor.” The mechanic laughed as his friend sent another threatening look his way.

“Is she hot?”

“She’s not your type,” Joe informed him. “She has a daughter.”

Loren held his hands up and took two steps back in a move similar to the one Frankie had made hours earlier. “I don’t do kids, man. Nothing worse than a chick with kids.”

The three men relinquished the pool table to the next group of players and elbowed their way to the bar. After ordering another round, Joe asked, “So Frankie, how long do you think it will take to fix her car?”

“Looking to delay her departure? Where’s she staying, anyway? She find a room in Springfield?”

“She’s staying at my folks’ house.”

Loren waggled his eyebrows. “My, my, isn’t that convenient.”

“It’s not like that!” Joe responded sharply. “She’s a nice woman with a young daughter who needed a place to stay. That’s all there is to it.” Turning away from his friends, he pushed away from the bar. Moving through the crowd, he headed to the men’s room.

“I haven’t seen him this worked up over a woman since Becky Stringer in the eighth grade,” Loren commented, watching Joe stalk off. They’d grown up together, been best friends since kindergarten and met Frankie in middle school, after a particularly nasty altercation having to do with rights to the local fishing hole. The new kid in town had wasted no time in trying to assert himself as the baddest ass around…for a thirteen year old. Loren and Joe stood their ground and after ten minutes of flying fists, bloodied noses, and enough muddy clothing to make their mothers weep, the boys decided that fishing was better than fighting. They had been solid friends ever since.

Loren Hamilton stood 6’1”, 185 lbs, with jet black hair and green eyes. His good looks and reputation as a ladies’ man preceded him, not only in Celebration but also in the surrounding county. It was well known that his idea of a relationship was three dates, tops. With that kind of record, it hadn’t taken him long to work his way through the available, and not so available, women in town. Always on the hunt for fresh blood, he rarely missed an opportunity to hit on a ‘newbie’, as he liked to call any new female visitor. He’d make an exception this time. Even without seeing this mystery woman, he recognized the look in Joe’s eye. He’d seen it twice before; once in the eighth grade and once ….

Joe claimed an empty bar stool as he rejoined his friends. Tipping his bottle at the bartender, he cast a surly glance at his best friend, who adopted an apologetic, puppy-dog face. Dropping to his knees and clasping his hands together, Loren pleaded jokingly, “Puh-leeze forgive me. You know I can’t bear it when you’re mad at me.”

“Moron,” Joe laughed, rolling his eyes.

“If I may so humbly ask, what is the name of this fair maiden who has stolen your heart?”

“Don’t push it,” Joe warned. “And for God’s sake, get up off the floor! You look like an idiot.”

“Her name’s Monica Russo,” Frankie ventured. “And her kid’s name is Kimberly.”

“Kimber,” Joe corrected, smiling at the memory of the child running off to show her picture to Grandma Fran.

“Kimber. My mistake,” Frankie commented drily. He could see as well as Loren that their friend was falling fast and hard for a total stranger. He remembered the last time it had happened and the result hadn’t been pretty. “So what is going on between you and Monica?” His emphasis on her name left no question that he thought his friend was heading for trouble.

“There’s nothing going on,” Joe clarified. “She’s just a woman who needed help when her car broke down. How’d you like to be stuck in the middle of nowhere and no one around to call?”

“I’m just saying. I’ve seen that look in your eye before. Be careful, bro.”

Joe stood and slid a bill onto the bar. Loren and Frankie were both studying him closely so he put on his best shit-eating grin and slapped them on the back. “There’s nothing to worry about. As soon as Frankie here fixes her car, she’ll be on her way to LA and all this will be a distant memory. In the meantime, nothing wrong with admiring the scenery, is there?” Sliding on his jacket, he fished his keys out of his pocket. “It’s getting late and I, for one, have to work tomorrow. It’s been fun as always, boys.”

“You going to the game tomorrow night?” Loren asked, ordering another round. Unlike Joe, he preferred late nights and even later mornings, which made his job as manager of Celebrazione, the town’s only Italian restaurant, a perfect fit.

“Don’t know yet. I’ll give you a call and let you know.” Waving to Frankie, he walked to the door, stopping every couple of feet to talk with various friends and neighbors. By the time he made it to his truck it was nearly midnight. He was getting too damn old to stay up half the night acting like he was half his age. That might’ve worked twenty years ago but he had to be up in six short hours; being the owner of his own carpentry business didn’t allow him much slack.

He unlocked the door, slid behind the wheel, and fastened his seatbelt, shaking his head to clear the cobwebs. Not even close to being intoxicated, having nursed his first beer until it was warm and barely touching the second one, the brain fog he was experiencing had nothing to do with alcohol and everything to do with the pretty divorcée who was asleep in his parents’ guest room.

The blue glow from his dashboard illuminated the cab of the truck, casting a pale light on his face which shrouded other parts in shadows. His tires hummed against the asphalt as he maneuvered the quiet streets that led home. Most of the houses were dark, the occupants sleeping soundly, though from an occasional window he could see the flickering of a television. Lowering his window to allow cool night air to blow across his face, he smiled, recalling his conversation with Monica from earlier in the day. Sobering quickly when he remembered her question about which city he’d lived in, he rolled the window back up. He didn’t want to think about that time. It was better left in the past.

Turning onto his parents’ street, he drove to the end then pulled into the drive, the tires crunching on the gravel. In the dead of night, the sound was like really large bubble wrap being popped, and he wondered how it didn’t wake half the neighborhood. The house came into view and his intention to drive past to his apartment was thwarted when he noticed a light on. Worried that something had happened to his father, he parked in front of the porch and hurried into the house.

Entering the kitchen, he noticed the overhead light was off. What he had seen as he’d pulled up was the glow from the light over the stove. A quick glance around the room reassured him that nothing was amiss, then his gaze settled on Monica, who was sitting at the table, her hands wrapped around a mug of tea, apparently deep in thought. “Is everything alright?”

Startled by the sound of his voice, she jumped out of her chair. “Yes, why, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I was on my way home and saw the light. I thought something might’ve happened to Dad.”

Monica glanced at the clock on the wall above the stove. 12:20.
Must’ve been some night with Lauren.
“Your dad’s fine. They’re both asleep; have been for hours. I’m restless in a new place and didn’t want to wake Kimber up. I thought a cup of tea might help.” Seeing the relief on his face, she felt badly for the anxiety she’d inadvertently caused him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“It’s okay.” Walking to the cabinet, he took out a glass, then opened the refrigerator and poured himself some sun tea. “I like mine cold,” he explained, tilting his head back and draining the glass. The muscles in his neck contracted as he swallowed the icy beverage, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. Rivulets of moisture ran down his throat and disappeared under the collar of his t-shirt.

It was the sexiest thing she had seen in a long time and made her aware that she was dressed in only a tank top and boy shorts, with a kimono style robe overtop. She watched as he put the empty glass in the sink and then turn to look at her, his eyes slowly perusing her body. Resisting the urge to cross her arms over her chest, she stood there and let him look, each pass of his gaze like a caress that set her skin tingling. “How’s Lauren?” she asked, and his eyes snapped up to meet hers.