Falling for the Wrong Twin by Kathy Lyons

with Mommy?”
    Apparently that was an even more exciting than a blueberry muffin. The kid squealed in excitement this time and kicked his feet. The muffin went flying too--this time at Rick--but the man caught it deftly enough. Meanwhile, his sister nodded at her daughter.
    “You too, Darla. You are not allowed to look like Uncle Mike. Or smell like him either.”
    The girl--and everyone else--giggled as she hopped up from her chair to take his mother’s free hand. Meanwhile, Mike folded his arms.
    “Har har. I’ll have you know that I was being heroic here, taking the hits while your mother and aunt just played with their iPad.” And his brother flirted with a pretty woman.
    “Well, that’s what iPads are for,” returned his sister. Then she leaned forward and gave him a kiss. “But I thank you, brother dear. You’ve been a rock, and not just this morning.”
    He smiled, his insides easing some. His sister’s voice was easy, her body—though obviously tired—was not the taut bowstring of shock and grief that she’d been since her husband’s death from an IED. He began to have hope that she was healing. And that even as a single mother, she’d survive.
    “Call me if you need me, sis.”
    “Not a chance,” his sister snorted. “Rick’s here now. He can do some uncle duty.”
    “Hey!” his brother called in mock insult. “I’ve got the wonder twins.”
    “Twin,” said Joey through a mouthful of pancakes that had mysteriously appeared in the last two minutes. “The other one doesn’t want anything to do with you.”
    Everyone laughed at that, including him. Things were returning to--well, not normal. Nothing would be normal again after their recent losses--but at least back to stable. Maybe even happy.
    He stood there then, watching as his sister took her children away for their baths. Joey and Rick had settled down to eat, trading sports insults between bites. The older women were peppering Ms. Lopez with questions, and he…well, he was just standing there feeling slimed with bits of egg.
    Then she looked up. Her chocolate gaze was not quite warm, but not hostile either. Her lips had a gentle curve to them and her skin was flushed a golden tan that made him think of frappuccino--sweet, yummy, and with a kick that might very well be addictive.
    “Would you mind taking a walk with me, Anna?”
    Her eyebrows rose in surprise and she looked down in dismay at the plate of quiche that had just appeared in front of her. “I’m never going to get my breakfast, am I?”
    He felt his cheeks heat. “I’m sorry. It won’t take long.”
    “That’s all right,” she said as she straightened to her feet. “I’m used to eating on the run.” She grabbed her plate and coffee and moved around the table. “But I don’t know where you intend to walk. Have you noticed the monsoon outside?”
    He had, but where he was headed wasn’t far. Just the screened in back porch. They could have some privacy there. He was just moving past the older women when his mother pressed a fork into his hand.
    “Here dear, you haven’t eaten either. Share the piece with her.”
    “No, no,” interrupted Aunt Tilde. “Don’t you remember? Real men don’t eat quiche.”
    His mother tisked. “You’ve got it wrong, Tilde. They do eat quiche. That was the title of the book.”
    “I’m sure it was the other way around…”
    Anna tried to cover her laugh, as they left the room. Behind them, the argument continued as always, but his attention was on the woman at his side. Her face seemed to light up when she was amused, making her more beautiful than any artfully applied cosmetics.
    “How many times have they had that argument?” she asked in a low voice.
    “Every time we come here. It’s not a reunion until they’ve had the quiche argument.”
    “It sounds more of a joke, I think, than an argument.”
    He shrugged. “Whatever it is, they seem to enjoy it.”
    She sobered as she looked at him. “But you