Page 73 of When Sparks Fly

I open my mouth to interject, but he comes to his senses and comes clean. “I’m just playin’. I cleaned it out before I ran it up there.” He leaves his position next to me and strides over to where she’s giving him a dirty look. “If you don’t have faith in me, at least have faith in yourself. You raised me better than that.” He plants a firm kiss on her cheek and pulls some glasses from a cupboard behind her.

Affection fills my chest. So much love fills this space with all its quiet nooks and crannies, all its history. An unfamiliar ease settles over me.

Sutton returns to the table and sets a can of cream soda and a glass of ice in front of me. He takes a sip of his water before setting it on the table, then places his hand atop mine and rubs gentle circles on it.

Everything is so easy with him, and that’s scary as hell. I’ve heard so many people say how hard love is, how much work relationships are. My own experiences lend to that sentiment and yet I never wanted to put in the work. Never wanted to compromise. Maybe because it felt like I was the only one who was going to be losing something. With Sutton, I haven’t felt like that at all. Could it always be like this?

The front door opens and closes and heavy footsteps approach.

“Hi, sweetheart.” Andi’s voice is steady and loving as always. From my spot at the table, the entrance from the hallway into the kitchen is visible. When Mr. Strickland fills the space, it’s abundantly clear all the ways Sutton resembles him. Muscular and broad, but not too bulky, tall and tan.Something tells me there will be plenty of similar personality traits, too, because he doesn’t carry Andi’s endearing gift of gab. The perfect steely blues and smile are all her, though.

Mr. Strickland kisses Andi on the temple and then looks our way, perking up when he spots me.

“Hi there.” His smile is warm like Andi’s as he skirts around her to the sink. He washes his hands and grabs a towel hung over the oven door handle. His lips tip up on one side—an expression I’ve seen on Sutton too many times to count—as he exchanges a look with his son and maneuvers forward into Andi’s line of sight. The hand-drying motions are over the top. “So what’s for dinner, Mama?”

She’s intent on buttering rolls, but the motion of his hands catches her eyes and her face scrunches in annoyance. “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times!” All of the aggression is lacking as she snatches the towel from him, smiling broadly. His chuckle is warm and he steps quickly out of her reach into the dining room.

Instinctively, I stand. Mr. Strickland claps Sutton on the shoulder once inside the room. “Dad, this is Maci. Maci, this is my dad—”

“Michael.” His large, tan hand extends to me and when I offer my own, he clasps his second over top. Calloused like his son, there’s affection in the grip. I swallow hard. “Nice to have you.”

“Thank you.” Without a doubt, I’m blushing. I will the heat away, but it’s no use.

Michael sits across the round table from me, as Sutton retakes his seat. Andi follows shortly with dishes and hot pads. “I’m happy to help,” I offer again and she waves me off.

“Not a chance. You just sit right there, honey.”

I do as I’m told and Sutton squeezes my leg. My cheeks flame anew as memories from the blind flood my mind’s eye. His hands, his mouth. Both glorious and detrimental.

Swiping my drink from the table, I take a huge gulp. Sutton eyes me curiously. I ignore him.

Dinner is amazing. The food is spectacular and sitting and chatting with Sutton’s parents is comfortable in a way I couldn’t have predicted. It’s like being home. Or at least a home filled with unconditional love.

His mother is giddy with excitement that we’ve hit it off and his father seems so proud of him all the way around. Everyone is pleasant and at ease.

At the conclusion of dinner, Michael excuses himself and Andi starts cleaning up. There’s no holding me back. Nana would tan my hide if I didn’t help clear the table and clean up the kitchen. Before she can protest, I collect the plates and silverware from the table, following Andi into the kitchen where she’s carried her own.

From the corner of my eye, she turns sharply to Sutton who puts his hands up in surrender. The dishwasher is empty, so I begin rinsing and loading without asking.

“Just can’t help yourself, can you?” Andi gives me a gentle bump with her hip from my opposite side.

How can something so simple convey so much emotion? Plate in hand, I turn to her. “Thank you again for having me. This has been so incredibly special.” My throat constricts and I press my lips together firmly, swallowing.

Her eyes stay locked on mine. “You are welcome here anytime, honey. We’re glad to have you.” A moment later, she sets the remaining dishes from the table onto the counter.

Sutton’s heat permeates my shirt from behind. My body screams for his touch. He’s so close and it would be easy to lean back intohim, but I refrain because this is new. I’m still not sure what we are and I’m meeting his parents for the first time, as anything other than a grieving granddaughter. Never mind that both of us continue to skirt the issue of me leaving.

His cheek brushes my hair as he draws his mouth near my ear. “You’re incredible.”

There’s that fucking whisper again. I’m undecided if the chill that runs down my spine is from his words or his breath teasing my neck.

My head cocks gently his way, aching to be closer. I’m only slightly disappointed when his gentlemanly nature shines through and he plants a chaste kiss loosely into my hair, backing away.

Leaning against the counter near the refrigerator, he eyes me like dessert. “I’m planning to go see my sister soon. Would you be interested in coming with me for a visit?”

“Oh, Sammi would love that.” Andi’s voice reminds me of her presence. She goes about finding Tupperware for leftovers before scooting Sutton out of the way and organizing things into the refrigerator.

“I’m surprised I’ve been given a choice.” I dry my hands with the correct towel.

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