Page 38 of Home Changes
It hadn’t been planned. Hell, it had barely even felt like a choice. One minute, she was working, her cheeks warm, her hair pulled back in that loose, careless way that made her look even more beautiful. Next, she was standing close. Like close enough that the scent of cinnamon and sugar clung to her skin.
So, he’d pulled her in and kissed her. Rough, real, and fucking addictive. The chemistry between them was real.
Now, sitting there with the night wrapped around him, Seth felt content, even in the swirl of questions surrounding his father.
He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring.Chester’s good days came and went like clouds drifting over the prairie. Some days were clear. Some were lost in the fog. And Seth was still trying to figure out how to be a son, a caregiver, and maybe, just maybe, a man falling in love.
But tonight?
Tonight, he had those delicious memories.
CHAPTER 13
The scent of slow-cooked beef and fresh-baked rolls drifted on the evening breeze as Allison stepped up onto the porch, balancing a tray covered in mismatched dishtowels. The sun hung low in the western sky, casting golden rays over the prairie. Crickets had begun their nightly chorus, the sound low and rhythmic beneath the distant creak of the porch swing.
“I come bearing gifts,” she called, nudging the screen door open with her hip.
Chester looked up from the small wooden table where he sat, a deck of cards spread before him like he was preparing to storm a casino. His brow lifted, skeptical.
“That better be food and not another damn rabbit-food salad,” he grumbled.
Allison laughed, adjusting her grip as the screen door slapped shut behind her. “No salad. I made pot roast with carrots, baby red potatoes, and soft yeast rolls. There’s extra gravy and a cherry cobbler that needs to be cooled on the counter.”
Chester gave a low, satisfied grunt. “Woman, you just got yourself upgraded to sainthood.”
Seth stood from where he’d been adjusting an old folding chair beside Chester. His flannel sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, revealing forearms sprinkled with sawdust. “Let me take that,” he said, reaching for the tray.
Their fingers brushed, and a small static moment sparked between them before Allison released her hold. “It’s hot,” she murmured, watching his hands instead of his eyes.
He nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a quiet smile. “I got it.”
Dinner was spread out over the little porch table with real plates, real silverware. No paper napkins. No shortcuts. Just home. The pot roast flaked apart at the touch of a fork, the potatoes were creamy, the rolls buttery and still warm. A pitcher of sweet teasat between them, already beading with condensation.
“You ever play Spades, Allison?” Chester asked as he wiped a smear of gravy from his plate with a roll that had at least a half-inch of butter slathered on it.
“I can bake you under the table,” she said with a grin. “But I’m not much of a card shark.”
“She’s got a baker’s precision,” Seth said, helping himself to seconds. “I bet she could clean up if she wanted to. Maybe even count the cards.”
“Hell, you don’t need to count if you’ve got charm.” Chester winked. “Back in my day, I won half my games and all my arguments that way.”
Seth groaned around a mouthful of roast. “Don’t encourage him. Pops, you growled your way through life. You didn’t charm your way.”
“I like her,” Chester muttered, tearing his roll in half and soaking up the last of the gravy. “She feeds me and doesn’t fuss. That’s damn near perfect.”
Allison arched a brow. “High praise, coming from you.”
Chester popped the bread into his mouth and said around the food, “Don’t let it go to your head.”
She smiled and poured more tea into Chester’s glass. The meal was full of banter and warmth. Laughter filled spaces that used to echo with silence.Even Gomer lay peacefully at Chester’s feet, tail occasionally thumping when Allison passed by.
When the last bite of cobbler had been scraped from the dish and the dishes were packed back onto the tray, Allison gathered her things and took them to the car. She returned to find Chester rising from his chair, rubbing his lower back with a wince.
“I’m turning in,” he muttered. “Gomer, with me.”
The dog rose instantly and padded after him.
“Don’t go falling in love on my porch,” Chester called over his shoulder, not bothering to look back.
