Page 2 of Force of Nature

Within seconds, I’m in her arms and the familiar smell of lavender and honey fills my senses. Wrapping my arms around her shoulders, I squeeze her back, having not realized until this moment just how much I had missed her.

“Dad told me what happened,” she whispers into my ear as to not be overheard. “I’m glad you came home.” She steps back, giving me a warm smile.

While all of my brothers favor my dad, tall and lean with darker hair and features, I am the spitting image of my mother. Short and slender with light blonde hair and green eyes.

“Thanks, Mom.” I offer her a forced smile, wishing I was as happy to be here as she seems to be having me here.

“Let me make you a plate,” she offers, quickly making her way back to the stove. I follow her into the kitchen, careful to keep my gaze averted from the handsome stranger whose eyes I can still feel on me.

“Hey, sis.” Josh offers me a small wave.

“Hey, boys.” I ruffle Seth’s hair as I pass. “Keeping out of trouble?”

“Never,” they answer in unison.

“What? Hollywood not big enough for ya? You gotta come cramp our style.” Chris stands, dropping his plate in the sink before turning toward me, a playful smirk on his beard covered face.

“What? You forgot what a razor is and decided to grow an animal on your face?” I smart back, giving the end of his beard a hard tug as I pass by him and join my mother at the stove.

“You just wish you could look this good,” he counters, crossing his arms over his chest.

I arch a brow, look down at myself, and then back up to him. “I think I’m good.”

“Conceited as ever. Glad to see some things never change,” he teases.

“Pot meet kettle.” I hold out my hand.

“Less than two minutes and they’re already at it,” my father grumbles, pushing to his feet.

“Where are Ben and Brad?” I change the subject, looking around the room.

“Brad doesn’t come up to the main house very often. He’s got a wife that takes care of him now. He doesn’t need mommy anymore.” Chris grins at our mother who ignores him completely. “Ben left a few minutes ago to take Harris out for a ride,” he says, referring to one of the horses.

“And you should have gone with him,” my father interrupts, setting his plate and cup next to the sink before turning toward me and my brother. “That fence line isn’t going to repair itself.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Chris huffs, pulling me in for a one armed hug. “It’s good to see you, sis, but duty calls.” He quickly releases me and heads toward the door, stopping inside the doorframe before turning to the sexy as sin man who’s still sitting at the table. “You ready, dude? You’re with me today.”

The man nods. “Yeah.” His voice so deep that the one word sends another wave of heat through me.

He pushes to a stand and slides the faded baseball cap backward over his messy hair, his back muscles flexing through the thin material of his white shirt.

Grabbing his empty plate and glass from the table, he turns, not once looking in my direction as he deposits his dishes in the sink and heads toward the door.

“Who’s that?” I voice to no one in particular the moment the door snaps closed behind him.

“Thad Mitchell,” my father says, stepping up next to my mother before dropping a quick kiss to her temple.

“Jack and Franny’s son?” I question, recognizing the name immediately. “The one who broke my arm?”

“The very same.” My father nods.

Jack and Franny Mitchell lived a couple miles down the road from us when I was little. Jack and my father were friends from high school and remained close until Jack was offered a new job out of state. They moved away when I was six or seven.

That’s really all I remember and, to be honest, if it wasn’t for their son pushing me off the swing set and breaking my arm when I was four, it’s likely I wouldn’t remember them at all. Something like that tends to stick with a person.

“What’s he doing here?” I ask, sliding into my father’s empty seat.

“He was having trouble finding work.”

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