Page 8 of To Save Him

But he was also growing up, not out, so one more pancake wouldn’t hurt.  I slid it on his dish while handing a plate of food to Brandon.

“Thanks, Kimberly.  It smells really good.”

I sat down, smiling.  “It’s pretty hard to mess up sausage and pancakes.”

“Spoken like someone who’s never eaten in a mess hall.  You’ll just have to trust me on this.”

I felt my lips curl up in a smile.  In spite of the troubled aura about him, there was also something innocent and endearing about Brandon that made him…well,cutewas the best word I could find for that quality.  “I’ll take your word for it.”

He’d finished pouring syrup on the pancakes and cut off a bite with his fork.  I took another sip of my coffee while awaiting his verdict, and when he popped the forkful in his mouth, he closed his eyes.  He savored it for a few moments and then, when he swallowed, he looked at me and said, “Just as good as grandma’s.”

I raised my eyebrows.  “Wow.  What a compliment.  Thank you.”

“Of course.  Thankyoufor the hot meal.”

I looked over at JR, who was polishing off his pancake.  “Did you finish all your homework, honey?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t forget to brush your teeth.”

My son nodded as he stood, carrying his plate and glass to the dishwasher and dropping them in before bounding out of the room.  Brandon poured a small glass of the orange juice JR had left on the table.  “Thanks again.  Your cooking really hits the spot.”

Mycooking?  I felt a smile creep over my face, because he was also talking about last night’s meal.  It reminded me of the days when I’d actuallylikedcooking—but I hadn’t felt appreciated for it in a long time.  “You’re very welcome.”  My eyes connected with his again and time felt like it froze.

What the hell was wrong with me?  I was well old enough to be his mother.

…and yet, I could imagine walking over to the other side of the table to grab his face between my hands to kiss him hard.

Jesus.  When was the last time I’d gotten laid?  Apparentlytoo damn long.

Fortunately, he started talking before my stare could have become creepy or more inappropriate.  “Thanks again for letting me crash here.  If you don’t mind, I’d like to shower and then I can get out of your hair.”

His words brought me back to reality.  I fought to keep my expression neutral.  “What are your plans?”

“I don’t know.  I guess I need to figure out where the jobs are and then maybe settle down there.  I just don’t know what I want to do.”  He got my brain spinning, but I wasn’t prepared to talk just yet.  “Do you mind if I use the shower now?”

I blinked a couple of times, hitting the ground from my place in the lofty clouds, and then replied, “Yes, of course.  JR can show you where the towels are.”  I planned to clean up the kitchen but Brandon, like JR, scraped his plate and threw it in the dishwasher.  “You didn’t eat much.”

“Guess that’s what my belly’s accustomed to.”  Oh, how I wished I could change that—fill his belly; fill his heart.  He was already out of the room by the time I found myself wiping off the table and washing the griddle in the sink.

The kids stopped in the kitchen to tell me goodbye, but I felt inspired.  Part of it, I knew, was due to a lack of sleep, which caused a lack of judgment, but the other part was my fascination with and urge to help Brandon.  So I walked with Annabel and JR onto the front porch and said, “Guys, I need to ask you something really fast.”  Both acknowledged me and stopped walking.  “Brandon…seems like a really nice kid.”  Calling himkidmade me certain the growing lust in my heart would remain hidden, because the word sounded wrong to me.  “He’s had it rough—and I’m sure you picked up on the fact that he’s homeless and has no family.”

My sweet Annabel.  Even though my daughter was preoccupied with manicures, facial masks, false eyelashes, and pompoms, she still had a heart the size of Alaska, and she was perceptive as hell.

Oh, God, please don’t let her discover the desire underneath the charity.

“Are you wanting to have him stay here for a while?”

“Yes…but only with the blessing of the two of you.”

JR smirked.  “You’rethe boss, mom.”

“Wish you’d remember that when I need you to take out the trash.”

My son’s grin widened.  “I like him.  He’s cool.”

That statement constituted his approval.  “Annabel?”

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