Page 63 of Unleashed

“Absolutely,” Michael replied, pride evident in his voice. “We were pretty good at it. The caramel marshmallow bar you might know? That’s our creation. It’s been a hit for over twenty years.”

“Wow, that’s impressive!” I said, genuinely surprised. “So, you and your brothers were behind that?”

“Yes,” Michael said with a grin. “We convinced Mom to test it, and it made the cut.”

The florist called out, and I reached into my purse for my wallet, but Michael intercepted me, handing over his credit card with a quick gesture.

“You didn’t have to pay,” I protested.

“I insisted,” Michael said, taking the wrapped roses from the clerk. “Now, let’s get out of here before I decide to buy the whole store.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” I teased.

“Don’t test me, Morgan,” he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

I laughed as he guided me out of the shop. The roses, now wrapped in clear cellophane and green florist paper, were more than I’d chosen—two dozen instead of just one.

“You’re too generous,” I said, admiring the bouquet.

“I aim to please,” Michael replied with a smirk, holding the door open for me.

“Are you trying to earn brownie points?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Is it working?” he countered, his gaze steady.

“So far,” I said with a smile.

“Good,” Michael said, his eyes meeting mine with a hint of satisfaction.

CHAPTER 13

The sunlit library at Shady Grove had a calming warmth that did little to ease the shock I felt as I saw my father. He looked so frail and fragile that it took every ounce of my strength to hold back the tears. Michael, who I’d dragged along for support, noticed my distress and gently squeezed my shoulder.

“Mama, Daddy?” I called out softly.

They both looked up, their faces lighting up with recognition. As they tried to rise from their plush, overstuffed brown couches, I hurried over and gently waved them back down.

“Please, stay seated,” I said, my voice quivering slightly. I bent down, wrapping my arms around them in a tender embrace. I was especially cautious with my father, whose once sturdy frame had withered.

Despite their advanced years, my parents still possessed an undeniable grace. My mother’s short white hair framed her face, which still boasted bright green eyes and a remarkable lack of wrinkles. I hoped I might inherit her youthful complexion. My father, tall and thin, had steel gray hair and the same hazel eyes I had. His once strong presence had diminished, making me ache inside.

I handed the bouquet of tea roses to my mother. She took them with a smile and planted a soft kiss on my cheek. “Thank you, sweetie. You know how much I adore tea roses. And who is this young man?”

I almost forgot Michael was beside me. “This is Michael Elliot, my boss. We’re friends. Michael, may I introduce my parents, Charlotte and Samuel Kincaid?”

Michael stepped forward, extending his hand with a polite nod. “Pleasure to meet you both.”

My mother arched an eyebrow, but her expression softened as Michael shook her hand and then my father’s, whose hand was rough and gnarled from years of hard work.

“Pleasure’s all mine,” Michael said warmly.

“Daddy, how’s the arthritis?” I asked, concern threading through my voice.

“A little better since they adjusted my medication,” he replied with a small smile.

“I’m glad to hear that,” I said, relieved.

We settled into the chairs, and the conversation shifted to lighter topics. We talked about my recent vacation and how I was faring at my new job.

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