A Place to Call Home by Christina James

great father from what I’ve seen so far. Your boys are great. They’re lucky to have you.”
     
    He smiled and left to return to the solitude of the couch. Now that had been the best thing anyone had said to him in a long time. And from that fiery redhead of all people!
     
    Lying back down on the couch, he closed his eyes and lulled himself to sleep with Hannah’s voice saying his name over and over.
     
    Austin. Austin. Austin.
     
     
     

Chapter Six
     
    Hannah awoke early, the new day shining its light through the curtains. Sitting up, she stretched, remembering where she had slept. She had snuggled comfortably in Mac’s big bed while he slept downstairs on the couch.
     
    Without thinking twice, she lifted his sheets to her face and inhaled deeply. Yeah, they smelled like his pillow, of soap and shampoo. Man’s soap, the scent of clean, nothing frilly. She got up and opened the window needing to feel fresh air—the AC had automatically shut off during the middle of the night. She crawled back into bed, for a moment just sitting in the middle hugging her knees and enjoying the sounds of morning with birds chirping and a warm breeze blowing honeysuckle-sweetened air in the window.
     
    It amazed her that she actually sat in the same bed Mac slept in every night. The thought of his muscular body, strong arms, and stronger hands invoked a little thrill. Her body warmed in the private places she’d long since used, her craving for the male touch suddenly, ferociously, returning full force.
     
    Did Mac sleep without clothes? In his briefs? With a regular woman?
     
    Hannah sighed. A man as good looking and hard working as Mac would be off the market. Surely, some woman had her hooks in him and he wouldn’t be available. Oh, well, Hannah wouldn’t be around here for long. Once her restaurant opened, she’d move on. Like always. Still she couldn’t help but want to have a taste of Mac, no matter how temporary the fling.
     
    The alarm clock beside the bed read 5:30. Hunger gnawing at her gut, she decided to pay back Mac’s hospitality with a big homemade breakfast. Bursting with pride, Hannah knew she did one thing well—cook.
     
    Scooting out of bed, she ignored her sore muscles and limbs and the scraped knee, and tiptoed into the hallway, not wanting to wake Mac while he slept. At the top of the stairs, the sound of running water reached her ears and she looked down the hall to find a faint light glowing under the bathroom door. It appeared Mac had awakened, confirmed by the empty couch. Good. At least then she would be able to cook in peace.
     
    After utilizing the half bath on the first floor to freshen up, Hannah quickly started the coffee pot. She opened the fridge and, while not empty by any means, not a lot of choices for breakfast hid there. No sausages or bacon could be found and only four eggs filled the carton. Remembering the grocery store in town, she prayed it would be open this early. She would borrow Mac’s truck, get some quick supplies, and be back before he finished dressing. After running upstairs to grab her sandals and purse, she hurried out the door.
     
    Twenty minutes later she parked back in Mac’s driveway, quickly jumped out and grabbed two bags out of the back seat. She scurried to the door, reciting recipes in her head and knowing exactly what she wanted to prepare. She would create Mac her special ham, cheese, and hash brown omelet. For the boys, she’d have pancakes with fresh blueberries and, of course, all would have bacon, sausages, toast, and orange juice.
     
    Outside the porch door that led into the kitchen, Mac’s bellowing voice stopped Hannah in her tracks.
     
    “Where the hell did you go?”
     
    His massive body blocked the doorway, and she had no choice but to stop.
     
    “Well?” he said, standing with his arms crossed over his chest.
     
    “Oh, get out of my way, you ox.” She attempted to push past him but got nowhere, and his solid frame jammed her in