Page 44 of Bossy Hero

It’s Alan. Has to be.

Once I find the gumption to meet his mahogany eyes, a sharp gasp traps the oxygen in my throat.

Yep. It’s him.

With a voice like velvet, he says, “Hi, Maddie.”

I open my mouth to respond, but all that comes out is a squeak. On instinct, I cover my mouth to hide my dumbfounded expression. The balloon I was tying off shoots from my hands, sails around the room, and sputters warm air as it dances to its demise.

Pppfffttt.

Exactly like a fart sound effect from a cartoon. Precisely the impression I hoped I’d make the next time I finally saw him. Terrific.

The balloon finally rids itself of all remaining gas, ending the immature soundtrack. Alas, my embarrassment remains.

My cheeks warm with what I can only assume is a vibrant blush.

“Real classy, Mom.” Sammy plops two plastic shopping bags on the table. “In front of company and everything. Mortifying.”

Huh. Apparently, she’s in the room with us.

“Everybody farts. Even our mother,” Drew teases, piling more bags on the table.

Oh look. My son is here as well.

I stand frozen with my vision positively transfixed on Alan.

And only Alan.

Another male voice breaks through the haze. “Mrs. Mason, this is Big Al. He was our squad leader in the Rangers.” In my peripheral, Sawyer places the cake I asked him to pick up at the bakery onto the table. He motions an open palm toward Alan. “Come to think of it, you’ve probably already met.”

Had no flipping clue he was here either.

Unaware of my internal flurry of panic and joy, Sawyer continues. “Figured Lionheart would want him here for his party. It’ll be a nice surprise. They were close. I was only a little jealous.” He nudges Alan on the shoulder. “But I’ve had Leo all to myself for the last year, so I’m over it. Mostly.”

Ah, so Sawyer’s to blame for bringing Alan here. He’s off the banana bread list. Not permanently, since I could never be so cruel to one of my children.

However, I’m less than thrilled with him for springing this on me.

Especially since he’s aware that I know Alan. He’s the one who gave me his damn email address to begin with.

Then again, he likely doesn’t know we’ve stayed in touch all these years. No one does. I prefer it that way.

Alan’s sneaky grin widens until he’snearlysmiling. The twinkle in his eyes is devastating to a battered heart like mine. As I smile back at him, I reconsider my harsh judgment of Sawyer’s transgression. On second thought, he gets double banana bread.

Because after having nothing but emptiness filling me for eons, I finally feelsomethinghappening in the long-vacant cavern in my chest.

My heart. It beats wildly.

Not out of fear.

Not from the adrenaline rush I needed to run to safety or hide from my tormentor.

Not from the pain I felt when he inevitably caught me.

This is a whole other type of heartbeat.

It’s accompanied by a kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttering in my midsection in a mad frenzy.

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