Ring of Fire by Susan Fox Page B

watching Jayden demonstrate how to operate the ladder on one of his LEGO fire trucks.
    Lark’s mom was at the kitchen counter, her back to Lark as she sliced something and said, “Put that away now, Jayden. Your mother will be home for dinner soon, if the creek don’t rise and the barn don’t burn.”
    Lark grinned at their frequently used adaptation of an old expression. “No floods and no fires,” she said, “and your mom’s home now.”
    Eric jolted when she first spoke—a pronounced startle reaction that went along with his usual air of alertness, both no doubt related to his military service. Now, as the three of them turned to look at her, she said, “I see we have company. Hello, Eric.” She tried to keep the warmth in her voice to a polite level, and not reveal how good it was to see him.
    He stood, fluidly enough that she wouldn’t have guessed there was a prosthesis under one leg of his jeans. “Hello, Lark. I hope this isn’t an imposition.”
    She walked over and bent to give Jayden a hug. “Not at all. We’re happy to have you.” Then she turned away, facing her mom, and gave her a raised-eyebrows “What’s up?” look.
    â€œJayden invited Eric,” Mary Cantrell said. “I told Eric he should come.”
    Why? Lark’s mom was a reserved woman and didn’t readily trust men. Did she figure it would be good for Jayden to be on friendly terms with his fellow student? Or was she feeling compassion for a wounded soldier who, from what he’d said at the Sunday morning lesson, had no family or friends in town? One thing Lark did know: her mother wasn’t matchmaking. She and her mom had long ago agreed that they were better off without men to mess up their lives.
    â€œOf course,” Lark said. It was disconcerting, though. Having a man in their kitchen. Having that particular man, with his extremely masculine body and energy. A man who made Lark’s own body tingle with femaleness and sexuality.
    â€œDinner will be ready in ten minutes,” Mary announced. “Jayden, go wash up. Lark, change out of that uniform. Eric, you can set the table.”
    When Lark had taken the position as fire chief, she’d had no trouble being in command, organizing tasks, and issuing orders. She’d learned from the best.
    Jayden got up awkwardly from his chair and shifted to the walker that sat beside the table. As he left the kitchen, Lark gathered up his truck. She took it to the family room and put it in the wooden chest that held more of his LEGOs.
    This rental house was old and on the small side, but it worked for her family. They each had their own bedroom, the kitchen was homey and big enough for a table and chairs, and the family room was reasonably spacious. The rent was quite low because not many people wanted to live beside a fire station and listen to sirens at odd hours of the day and night. Fortunately, that didn’t bother Mary, and Jayden had grown up as familiar with sirens as with lullabies.
    He wanted to be a firefighter. Sadly, that wasn’t likely to happen, given his physical disabilities and his small stature. Still, her boy was getting stronger and more coordinated, his speech kept improving, and he was smart. He’d have lots of career options when the time came.
    In her bedroom, Lark opened a dresser drawer and reached for an old gray sweat suit, typical at-home attire. But they had company. Company in a nice Henley, not sweats.
    She wanted Eric to find her attractive. Whether it was wise to want that, when he was her son’s riding friend, she wasn’t sure. But there was no time to worry about it now.
    She rushed into the bathroom and showered away the lingering scent of spilled gasoline from an MVA they’d responded to that afternoon. After toweling her short hair, she ran a comb through it. She rarely wore makeup and was grateful for the smooth, medium brown skin