Page 11 of Heart of a Hero

He winced, his gaze dropping to her hand again, relieved to see no sign of redness. Still, he couldn’t help but feel like an awkward teenager.Get a grip. I haven’t been this clumsy since high school.

“Really,” she repeated, her voice soft as she leaned a little closer, her face filling his vision. “The coffee wasn’t even that hot. It’s more lukewarm at best. I was just drinking it for the caffeine.” Her lips curved upward, her eyes twinkling with humor. “Certainly not like Bess’s coffee.”

Mark found himself lost in her brown eyes, the same ones that had stayed with him since their last brief encounter.

Karen tilted her head, a blush rising to her cheeks as she smiled again. “Let’s start over, shall we?” She held out her hand. “Hello, Mark.”

He smiled, feeling the tension ease from his shoulders as he took her hand in a gentle grip. “Hello, Karen. And again, I’m really sorry for startling you.”

She laughed lightly, and the sound sent a ripple of warmth through him. “Don’t worry about it. My mind was elsewhere—I probably would’ve jumped at anything.”

Mark chuckled softly. “I haven’t seen you here before.”

“No, I haven’t come very often,” she admitted, shrugging slightly. “It’s just hard to find the time these days. By the time I get home and settle the girls in for the night, I’m ready to crawl into bed, not drive all the way into Baytown for a meeting.”

Her confession came with a sigh, and for a moment, she seemed almost embarrassed by it. But the honesty in her words only made her seem more real to him. He didn’t want her to feel self-conscious… not about the difficulty of single parenting.

Before he could respond, the call to take seats rang out across the room. Karen tossed her half-empty coffee cup into the trash, and Mark sighed inwardly, disappointed that their conversation was being cut short just as it had started to find its rhythm.

"Shall we?" he asked, gesturing toward a couple of empty seats near the side. At her nod, he led her to the row, his mind still buzzing with thoughts of their brief but unexpectedly warm exchange.

As the meeting began, Mark struggled to focus on the speakers at the front. The words blurred together as his attention kept drifting back to the woman sitting beside him. Every now and then, he’d catch a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye—the way her hair brushed her shoulder and the soft lines of her face illuminated by the overhead lights. He tried to shake it off and concentrate on the business at hand, but it was no use. His thoughts kept circling back to Karen.

Thirty minutes into the meeting, he was called to the podium to report on the newly formed youth running clubs with which he was assisting. Looking at her wide-eyed expression, he quipped, “Save my seat.”

Her smile made him want to hurry through his short presentation and get back to her side.

Once there, she leaned over and whispered, “I didn’t know the AL had a running group for kids. I’m afraid I’ve been woefully out of touch with what is going on.”

“It’s new,” he whispered in return, loving the excuse to be closer. A delicate scent of vanilla and something floral drifted past, reminding him of a candle his mother loved.Sea Breeze.His dad made sure he bought the candles from the little gift shop in Baytown. And when they stopped carrying them, he would order them straight from the company that made them.“Your momma asks for very little, Son. If a candle makes her happy, then I’m gonna do what I can to give it to her.”

As the program continued, she leaned back in her seat, and he missed the closeness. They stood for the closing, and while many members went to the Pub afterward to have a meal or a drink, he wanted to extend his limited time with her. “May I walk you to your car?” he asked, not wanting the evening to end just yet.

She smiled, but a touch of hesitation flickered in her eyes. “Thank you, but you don’t have to.”

Their gazes locked, and Mark felt the air between them thicken at that moment. His experience with women might have been rusty, but his ability to read people was as sharp as ever. And what he saw in her eyes, what he hoped for, was that she was just as interested. "I may not have to," he said gently, “but I’d like to.”

The electricity between them hung in the air as they stood there, neither moving. Mark held his breath, waiting to see if she’d turn him down or accept. Doubt crept in, making him second-guess himself, but then, slowly, her lips curved into a smile.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “It would be lovely for you to walk me out.”

Relief swept through him, easing the tightness in his chest. He hadn’t known what to expect—he had no smooth lines or practiced charm—but she hadn’t shot him down. It was just awalk to her car, but to him, it felt like the first step toward something he hadn’t realized he’d been hoping for.

As they exited the building, her warm and soothing voice drifted in the cool night air. His hand rested lightly on her back as they crossed the street, their steps falling into a comfortable rhythm. The other attendees continued to mill around, but once they moved farther from the church, the street grew quieter, and the only sound was the soft crunch of gravel beneath their feet.

“How many girls do you have?” Mark asked, glancing at her with genuine curiosity.

Her face lit, and the smile she gave him was so full of love and pride that it was contagious. “Two. Laura and Olivia. Laura’s fourteen, and Olivia is twelve.”

Mark couldn’t help but smile in return, recognizing the same joy he felt when talking about Benji. Something was so grounding and real in how she spoke about her daughters. It made him feel connected to her in an unexpected and comforting way.

But as much as he enjoyed hearing about her life, he felt the need to be upfront with her and clear the air. “Karen,” he said, his voice lowering slightly, “I have to be honest. I know that you’re a widow. That’s all I know, but it didn’t feel right to have that personal information without you knowing.”

She stopped beside her small SUV and turned to face him, her eyes searching his. “You asked about me?”

“Yes… I just wanted to know if you were married or in a relationship since I didn’t see a traditional wedding ring on your finger.”

She glanced down at her left hand, her fingers wiggling slightly at the small ring she wore, the red and green stones twinkling in the faint streetlight. “This is a mother’s ring. It has my daughter’s birthstones.” Looking back up, she added, “I’m a widow. Jeffrey died almost four years ago.”

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