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Authors: Nikki Rittenberry

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Chapter 13

 

 

 

Winter’s grip loosened on the Florida Panhandle by early
March, high temperatures rising into the low eighties for the first time since
late November. Spring was Randall’s favorite time of year. Mild daytime
temperatures and refreshing Gulf winds made favorable conditions for boating,
and a breath of chill was still detectable upon nightfall.

His life had settled into an almost predictable routine,
consisting of work, restoring his boat, and quality time with Jimmy’s family.
And at night when he returned to his quiet, empty house, he turned to an old
trusted friend: Jack Daniels. The amber liquid had become his M.O., a
fundamental part of who he was. Guess he was more like his old man than he
wanted to admit.

Nearly two months had passed since he’d thoughtlessly
kissed Jimmy’s widow. So far he’d managed to keep his hands—and lips—off Lana
Phillips.

Barely.

There were times he’d clench his fists so hard to keep
from touching her, he feared he’d shatter the bones in his hands. He wondered
if maybe the allure had to do more with hungering for something he couldn’t
have, rather than…

Ah
,
shit
,
who the hell was he trying to fool
?

He wanted her. Wanted to hear his name fleeing her
luscious lips as he buried himself deep in her beautiful body; learn all the
places she liked to be touched and kissed…

But just because a person wanted, didn’t mean they had a
right to have. Most folks wanted to be a millionaire. That didn’t give them the
prerogative to enter a bank and demand a slew of cash. It was the nature of our
species: always wanting something more, something extraordinary.

And extraordinary didn’t even begin to describe Lana
Phillips.

Randall parked his truck along the narrow street. He
reached for the wrapped gift on the passenger seat, then strolled up the path,
up three porch steps, until he came upon a familiar red door. He let himself
in, something he’d been told to do on numerous occasions over the last month or
so, and gently nudged the door closed behind him.

He was immediately accosted with the sound of rambunctious
shrills likely emanating from the backyard. With a cautious gait, he followed
the squeals and laughter into the kitchen, stumbling upon a pretty woman with
long, light brown locks and graceful curves even the great Michelangelo
couldn’t recreate.

She hadn’t detected his presence yet, and like a deer
caught in a blinding beam of headlights, he froze, too stunned to move. Too
stunned to do anything other than watch as she swayed and sang quietly to
herself while clearing paper plates from the kitchen table.

 

 

The stressful portion of Connor’s birthday party was now
complete. The kids had devoured the cake, watched excitedly as Connor ripped
into his presents, and were now all outside beating the life out of a Spiderman
piñata. Needing a break away from the mounting chaos caused by an overdose of
sugar, no doubt, she’d put Grant and Ty in charge of the affair, and Olivia and
Kendall in charge of photographing the event.

It’d been a rather tough day celebrating her son’s sixth
birthday without the man that had aided in his creation. There wasn’t a day
that went by she didn’t think of Jimmy, but the piercing anguish she’d
experienced immediately following his death had lessoned into more of a steady
ache. Most days.

At least once a month there was a special day that would
remind Lana of her late husband. Last month she’d encountered her very first St
Valentine’s Day without a valentine since she was fifteen. That day had been
spent painting her newly decorated living room—anything to keep her mind busy.
Holidays and milestones like these were particularly difficult to endure. Days
like these—like today—Jimmy’s absence was ironically palpable…

Refusing to allow her mind to be sucked into a vortex of
sorrow and despair, she shifted gears, humming the melody of a Katy Perry song
she’d heard earlier in the day on the radio. She tossed paper cups printed with
spider webs in the trash, and began stacking used paper plates on top of one
another.

 


Let’s go all the way tonight

No regrets, just love
...”

 

Lana twirled around, then nearly fell when she realized
Randall was leaning his shoulder against the wall, watching her.


Omigod!
” she gasped as she smacked her free hand
against her chest, soothing her racing heart. “You scared the daylights out of
me! How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to be serenaded by your pretty voice”, he
responded with a wry grin. “Sorry I’m late. Got carried away workin’ on the
boat and lost track of time.”

Obviously Randall was amused by her performance. She
wasn’t so much embarrassed by the fact he’d stumbled upon her dancing and
singing in her kitchen as she was about the lyrics she’d mouthed. Those lyrics
had been sung with him in mind, something she was afraid he’d detect if she
didn’t regain the upper hand.

And quickly. “Hmm, unable to glance at his watch
and
sand his boat at the same time”, she uttered as she stroked her chin. “Guess
you’re not as good at multi-tasking as you once thought.”

 

 

Randall shook his head at her witty remark, feeling the
corners of his mouth rise once again. The woman was determined to prove to him
that men were pretty much incapable of dividing their focus amongst more than
one thing at any given time—which was often true, but not always. He could
think of one activity in particular he excelled at.

Exploring the female form

“I take it I missed the cake and presents?”

“Don’t worry about it; he can open your gift later once
everyone leaves. Which”—Lana glanced at her watch—“should be in about thirty
minutes, thank goodness.”

“Rough day?” He asked as he placed Connor’s gift on the
counter.

Lana chuckled under her breath. “I think
rough
is
a bit of an understatement.”

“Too much of a good thing never hurt anyone.”

She tossed the last paper plate into the trash, then
crossed her arms. “Define ‘good’, because there are currently ten six-year-olds’
in the backyard that have probably binged on two pounds of sugar a piece,
beating the crap out of a Spiderman piñata. Go ahead”, she gestured with a tilt
of her head, “see for yourself.”

Ambling toward the small window he peered through the
glass at the pandemonium unfolding several feet from the back fence. Grant and
Ty were doing their best to curb the mass disorder while Kendall and Olivia
documented the sugar-induced debacle with their clicking cameras. “I might need
a beer for this”, he mumbled under his breath.

Lana laughed as she gathered the plastic Spiderman
tablecloth in her hands. “I bought you some Miller Lite. It’s in the fridge.”

Randall walked several paces to the refrigerator, trying
to convince himself that Lana’s thoughtful gesture didn’t mean anything. That
keeping his favorite beer on hand, even though she couldn’t stand the stuff,
was of no consequence. Opening the fridge he reached for the bottle, twisting
the cap as he moved toward the back door. “If I’m not back in twenty minutes,
come rescue me.”

The sound of Lana’s laughter echoed in his ears as he
closed the door behind him and began the fearless trek across the yard. Well,
maybe
fearless
was a stretch; ten six-year-olds’ cracked-out on sugar
was a pretty scary thing to be walking into.

He was roughly halfway when Kendall spotted him. “I was
wondering if you were going to show!” She called out, coming toward him.

Randall pulled her in for a hug, surprised when he didn’t
feel that familiar jolt of unease. He’d fallen for Kendall two years ago—had
even spent one night loving on her body—but she hadn’t felt the same way about
him. She’d wanted to remain friends. He’d gone along with it for a while,
hoping she’d change her mind, but as soon as Ty had come into the picture
Randall hadn’t stood a chance. “Where’s Tenley?”

“With my mom. We’re heading over there as soon as the
party’s over to pick her up. You should stop over some time and visit. She’s
three months already; you wouldn’t believe how big she’s grown since the last
time you saw her a few weeks ago.”

Kendall slipped from his embrace.
Hmm
,
that was
odd
… He didn’t get that empty feeling, the one where his chest ached where
his heart used to sit when she’d stepped away. “Yeah… I’ll come by soon.”

“Hey, you gonna stand there and paw at my wife, or are
you gonna help us?” Ty shouted teasingly.

“Ignore him”, Kendall mumbled, cupping her hand to cover
her mouth. “This is his first glimpse into what we’re in store for in a few
years. At this rate, I think Tenley might be an only child.”

Randall laughed and then swung his arm over her
shoulders. “C’mon, Babe, guess we’d better get back over there, then.”

 

 

This was ridiculous, ludicrous, and just about every
other synonym that ended in
o-u-s
, Lana conceded as she peered through
the kitchen window at Kendall and Randall. So they were hugging—big deal.
Kendall was married to Ty, head-over-heels in love with her husband, she might
add. And Randall…? Well, Lana had no claim on Randall; he wasn’t hers.

Then why are you spying through your kitchen window like
a jealous girlfriend
?

Lana began picking at her lilac nail polish, suddenly
overwhelmed with where her thoughts were taking her.

Randall had been there for her and Connor—maybe not at
first—but he’d certainly made up for his five-month absence in stride. He’d
call to check on them at least once a day, and stop over four or five days out
of the week to play with Connor, giving her a break. He’d sort of stepped into
the role of man of the house, becoming the primary male influence in Connor’s
life, even though Randall didn’t live here.

She was becoming fond of his regular presence—maybe too
fond. And that was both exciting and frightening. Because she wasn’t supposed
to feel this way about the man that’d been almost like a brother to her late
husband. She wasn’t supposed to stock his favorite beer in her fridge, look
forward to the sound of his work boots thumping across her wood floor, nor
search for him in a crowded room.

She wasn’t supposed to want the one man she couldn’t
have.

With a frustrated sigh she pushed off the counter, poured
a glass of sweet tea, then willed her feet to take her to the backyard. She
needed to get over these… these…
feelings
she was having. Stuff it down
until later when she’d be alone. Because right now she needed to brave the rest
of the party, as well as the quality time she’d spend with Connor and Randall
after the celebration ended.

 

 

Dusk was swallowed by darkness by the time Connor finally
mellowed from his sugar high. Lana sat on the couch watching Randall assemble a
Lego toy Connor received for his birthday. The scene seemed so ordinary to the
naked eye, but it was far from conventional.

It was remarkable to witness, actually, which explained
why her Cosmo magazine lay open and neglected on her lap. The scene was
reminiscent of years past when Jimmy was still alive. He’d been a phenomenal
father and when he died Lana struggled to fill the void he left behind. She
tried to be everything she was and everything good that Jimmy had been and had
somehow managed to lose her way. She’d been drifting—simply existing—until
Randall came back last October. He’d stepped in and rescued her.

Randall had become her rock, lending his strength to her
battered soul—never asking for anything in return. She’d even noticed a positive
change in Connor. His bad language had improved, she no longer worried about
ill-timed four-letter obscenities, and she couldn’t remember the last time
Connor’s teacher had phoned indicating he was sick.

The colossal wake created after Jimmy’s death was finally
beginning to settle. Their lives would never be the same, but slowly they’d
established a new “normal.” A new family dynamic.

Of course, she’d seen the looks—overheard the
whispers—from some of the folks in town. There were several overly judgmental
people that believed her family dynamic was a bit unorthodox; that Randall’s
regular presence was odd. Strange. Peculiar, even. She tried to ignore it,
tried to tell herself that the feelings she harbored for Randall Burns were
purely platonic.

But with each sunrise and sunset, she was becoming less
sure…

“I almost forgot”, Randall said as he rose from the
floor, “You have one more present to open.”

“From who?” Connor inquired excitedly.

“From me. Sit tight, I’ll be right back.” Randall
disappeared into the kitchen, returning moments later with a flat box, clumsily
wrapped in Spiderman paper. He placed the gift on Connor’s lap, and within a
nanosecond Connor tore into the paper like a piranha during a feeding frenzy.

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