When Sparks Fly (56 page)

Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her in close to his heart. She fit perfectly. Her head just under his. He smelled like fresh mown grass and his own scent of man. Not aftershave or cologne. That would not be his style. Just man. Intoxicating man.

She breathed deeply, taking him in, allowing her tense muscles to relax and feeling his do the same.

“Did we just survive our first argument?” she asked, with a slow smile on her face.

“I think we did, darlin’ and it wasn’t too bad was it?”

She shook her head and allowed him to lead her into the living room. As he sat, he gently pulled her down with him.

“I meant what I said. Rick is a part of you, but your life with him and your life with me are separate.”

“But Brock, you also have to remember that I was very young when I was married. I’ve been on my own for fifteen years. If my sink leaked, I dealt with it. I bought the lawn mowers and mowed the grass. I dealt with my tire going flat. When it snows, I shovel my driveway.” When she saw him about to protest, she cut in, “Yes, I’ve had good neighbors and friends who have all helped, but I have been a woman living alone for a very long time.” Giving her shoulders a delicate shrug, she added, “I don’t really know the rules of being with someone again.”

Brock gave her a gentle kiss, rubbing his thumbs over her soft cheeks again. “There’s no rules being with me, Jean. I’m not that kind of man. I know you’re capable and strong and independent. I just want to fit into your world in a way that works for both of us.” He watched her carefully to see how she was taking his words, pleased to see her eyes smiling again.

“If I’m here, I’d like to do the mowing and anything else that’s heavy. If I’m not around and you can do it, then that’s fine too. I don’t want you doing anything that could hurt yourself, but other than that, I know you make good decisions.”

He kissed her again, this time a little longer and deeper. Pulling back, he said, “And one last thing, sweetheart. I meant what I said about my promise. I’ll never mention Rick in anger ever again.”

With that promise, she grabbed his face and pulled him in for a kiss. This time, she took over plunging her tongue in to taste his.
Yep, I was right. He even tastes like all man.

*

The next day, Jean was recounting the argument to the girls as they met at Bernie’s Bakery to plan for the Fourth of July picnic.

Each had their phones out as they were noting who was going to bring what, while discussing relationships at the same time.

“I’ll do my deviled eggs again,” Carol said, eliciting moans of delight from Laurie.

“Oh my God, they’re so good. I can never figure out what you put in them, but they are amazing.”

Emma looked at Jean, confessing, “I’ve been on my own for a long time too Jean, so I know where you’re coming from. Although…” she smiled, “I have to tell you that if that had been Jake, he’d have apologized while paddling my ass.”

Laurie burst into giggles as she looked around and then whispered, “Rob, too. A few times I’ve had that pleasure also.”

The idea of Brock trying that suddenly did not seem like such an abhorrent thought.
Hmmm, I just might have to check that out.

“What about dessert?” she asked, noticing that a few other patrons were glancing their way.

“Bernie will bring dessert for the whole group, so we don’t have to worry with that unless you have something special you want to do,” Carol said.

“I’ve got a killer banana pudding,” came the reply.

Laurie moaned again. “Ya’ll are killing me. I’ve been needing to lose a couple of pounds but it won’t happen this weekend.”

“I’ve got the baked beans,” Emma called out, then turned back to Jean. “So how did the argument end?”

Jean had to laugh. “Our conversation must sound strange to anyone listening. We’re talking about arguments, lawn mowing, getting spanked, and baked beans all at the same time.”

“So?” Laurie asked. “We women can keep up with lots of things at a time. It’s just men who have trouble thinking beyond their dicks.”

Bernie walked up, then blushed. “Well, you may be talking about my son, but having been married for thirty-five years, I would have to agree.”

Laurie blushed not realizing that her comments had been overheard, but they all burst into giggles once again.

“So, how did it end?” Carol asked.

“We talked. Apologized. And then made out like crazy,” she admitted, smiling at the memory.

“Oooh, make up sex is the best,” Carol stated emphatically.

“Honey, all sex is the best,” Bernie added.

*

Driving back to her house, Jean got behind a slow moving vehicle on her street.
They must be looking for someone’s address,
she thought as she slowed behind them. The car was crawling by the time she reached her driveway and as she glanced to the side, she noticed her elderly neighbor struggling to get her groceries out of her car. Parking on the street, she immediately walked up her neighbor’s driveway, but noticed the blue car now driving quickly down the street and turning the corner.

Must have been on the wrong street
. Not giving it another thought, she hopped out and helped her neighbor. “Mrs. Phillips, you shouldn’t lift something so heavy. If you ever need help then just call me.”

“Oh thank you dear. I looked over in your driveway to see if your young man was there, but he must not have heard me. I didn’t know he drove a blue car.”

Blue car?
“No ma’am, he doesn’t. He drives an older-model, black pick-up truck.”

“That’s what I thought. Well, when I called out to whoever was there, they just jumped in quickly with the girl and drove away.”

“They were in my driveway?” she asked, thinking of the blue car she had followed down her street.
Had they been looking for me, left and then were returning when I saw them?

After helping her neighbor get the groceries into her kitchen, Jean drove into her driveway. Her house looked undisturbed, but the strange words of Mrs. Phillips ran through her mind once again. Knowing the garage was going to be stifling in the July heat, she left the car under the shade of one of her large oak trees.

Maybe they were delivering a package,
but when she approached the front door there was no package to be seen.

Hauling her groceries into the kitchen, she began to make the banana pudding. Her phone rang and she answered it, putting it immediately on speaker while needing both hands to hold the bowl and stir.

“Hey sweetheart,” the familiar voice said. “How was your morning with the girls?”

“Um, it was interesting, to say the least,” she replied, a blush appearing.

“Interesting?”

“Well, do you want details?”

“Absolutely,” he answered. He’d secretly been nervous, figuring she would talk about their argument and wondering what the other women’s reaction had been.

“Well, let’s see. Emma said that Jake would have been understanding but he’d have paddled her anyway. Laurie agreed and Carol said that make-up sex was the best. Then Bernie chimed in and said that any sex was the best.”

Silence greeted her on the other end of the phone. “Brock, are you there?” All she could hear was him clearing his throat. “Honey?”

“Give me a minute, babe,” he replied.

“What’s wrong?” she asked with concern.

“Nothing. Just imagining using Jake’s solution on your beautiful ass.”

She giggled, saying, “I had the same response.”

“Darlin’, anytime you want to play, you just let me know.”

“Right now I’m at home making my world famous banana pudding for tomorrow’s picnic and that’s all I’m doing today. So…if you get to come home early, we can always…”

“Jesus, sweetheart. My dick is so hard right now, I—” He went silent while listening to the alarm coming in. “Gotta call, I’ll talk to you tonight.”

Jean said a quick prayer for his safety going to a fire, and continued her recipe. As the pudding cooked on the stove, she heard a popping sound from the garage. Glancing at the kitchen door, she tried to discern what she was hearing but did not want to stop stirring. The popping noise continued.
The door is closed so I can’t have another damn raccoon in my birdseed.
A motion at her window caught her eye as she looked out toward the front yard. Mrs. Phillips was waving her hands and pointing to her…
garage?
What the hell is going on?
With a lingering look at the pudding on the stove, she walked to the door and threw it open.

A blast of heat and rush of flames had her stumbling back, trying to escape the inferno that had been her garage. Turning quickly, she tripped over the remaining groceries still in bags on the floor and tumbled…straight into the counter hitting her head. She crumpled to the floor as the blackness rose up to meet her.

*

Brock, sitting in the passenger side of the fire truck, watched as the traffic moved over while Rob drove toward their destination. Rob glanced at the address on the GPS. “Brock, doesn’t Jean live on Oak Grove Street?”

Brock jerked his head around, answering, “Yeah, is that where we’re going?”

Rob rattled off the address and Brock’s heart stopped.
Jesus fuck, Jean’s house.
Rob saw Brock’s face pale with shock. Getting on the radio, he called Mac for details. Hanging up, he reported, “Neighbor saw flames from the garage and called it in. Said she’d talked to the owner earlier and knew the owner was still in the house.”

By the time they were in the neighborhood, Rob roared down the street pulling into Jean’s driveway. The neighbors had gathered and another fire truck came quickly as well as the ambulance. Brock ran toward the house but was quickly tackled.

“Get the fuck off of me,” he yelled, trying to fight Rob.

“Stop fighting. You can’t help her if you go in halfcocked,” Rob yelled back, restraining Brock with all of his strength.

The other firefighters had the water hoses trained on the blaze, still mostly contained in the garage. Letting Brock up, Rob grabbed him and said, “Let’s go in, but the right way. You’re no good to her if you lose your head.” Brock nodded and they headed toward the front door.

Moving through the front door they quickly saw that it was untouched. “Front room cleared,” Brock said into the radio. Moving down the hall toward the kitchen, the smoke was billowing from the door leading to the garage. The outside firefighters had broken the window at the kitchen, with more black smoke coming through there.

“The floor,” Rob called out. Brock’s eyes landed on the crumpled form of Jean on the floor and rushed over. In one quick swoop, her picked her up and carried her outside. Ripping off his helmet, he tossed it to the side, gasping for air. Running to the ambulance, he lay her on the stretcher, not willing to let her go.

Mac came over, with Rob right behind. The EMTs strapped an oxygen mask on her and immediately began checking for burns.

“Ma’am, you need to stay back,” he heard Rob telling someone.

“I’m her neighbor and called it in,” came the voice. “I want to see if she’s all right.”

“You’ll still need to stay back, ma’am. Is there anything you saw or can tell us?”

“Other than that little, blue car that was here earlier?”