AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Is it too heavy for you?”
The kid picked up one end of the wood and tested the weight. “No, I can carry it.”
“Well then I’m sure it will be okay.”
It wasn’t heavy, just awkward. The kid had the weight distributed evenly in seconds and was walking away. Ford followed.
Ritchie was Autumn’s kid. Autumn was here and he would see her, which was a given considering she now lived in Ryker Falls.
“Ritchie!”
Speaking of Autumn… She appeared at a sprint.
“Where have you been? I couldn’t find you anywhere. What are you doing carrying that?”
She wore cutoffs that showed off her legs and a gray T-shirt with the wordsDon’t Make Me Use My Teacher Voiceon the front. Her hair was in a ponytail, and on her feet were white sneakers. Sweet, sexy as hell, and way too disturbing.
Ford knew attraction when it was hitting him in the groin, but he wouldn’t be moving on it. (A) because she had a kid, and (b) he had a feeling anything with this woman would be complicated.
“I’m helping Ford, Mom.”
“Hi,” he said when she shot him a look.
“That’s too heavy for you.” She said looking pissed off.
The boy didn’t sigh, but Ford thought it was in there.
“You go on and take the wood over to that big ugly guy in the black T-shirt and tell him it’s from his brother, Ritchie.”
The boy walked away without another look at his mother.
“He’s too small to be lifting that wood.” Her eyes were narrowed, and she had a good glare going on. She came to his chin and was about as intimidating as her son.
“He’s doing okay.”
“He has asthma, and he’s small for his age, and…”
“I have asthma, and I’ve found exercise helps.”
She looked him over. “You have asthma?”
“Not bad but enough to be debilitating, but my point is that exercise helps.”
“He’s so small, and it’s terrifying when he gets it.” Her eyes shot to her son.
“I bet.”
“Where did you find him?”
“Ritchie was behind there.” He waved to where he’d found him. “Crying,” Ford said, and immediately wished he’d held the words in because she looked devastated, and that look hit him square in the chest.
“He’s a kid. They cry.” He shrugged.
“Ritchie doesn’t.”
“What, never?”
“Not often anyway.”
