Mending Fences. Jenna Mindel

right thing, then.”

      Jack ran a hand through his hair. “I hope so.”

      She didn’t know what it was like to be a parent, but she knew what it was like to be a kid. Jack struck her as a dad who cared, deeply. Angie had a parent who tried. That had to count for something.

      “It’s late,” Laura said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

      “Good night, and thanks.” His hair stuck up in odd directions and his eyelids were puffy.

       The urge to smooth back his hair tugged at Laura. The worst part was that he looked like he might welcome her touch.

      “Good night, Jack.” She hurried out the door before she gave in to her impulse.

      Laura breathed in the scent of fresh-brewed coffee and sizzling bacon as she bustled around the kitchen hoping the aroma of food teased the senses of her guests enough to wake them. It was nearly nine o’clock and she had to head out to the hospital. After her pasta fiasco, she wanted to prove to Angie that she could make breakfast.

      She poured herself a cup of coffee and listened. She heard male humming coming from outside. She didn’t recognize the tune but the sweet sound intrigued her.

      With a light knock, Jack opened the screen door and stepped into the kitchen. “Morning.”

      “You’re up.”

      “Just getting a head start on unpacking. Is that coffee up for grabs?”

      “Sure is. I’ll have breakfast ready in a minute if you’re interested.”

      Jack grabbed a mug from the counter and filled it with coffee, milk and sugar—just like Laura took hers. “I’m starved.”

      She smiled. “What were you humming?”

      His cheeks flushed. “Just an old hymn.”

      Laura smiled. It had been ages since she heard a male voice in this house, especially in the morning. “My dad used to sing.”

      Jack nodded. “Sounds like you were pretty close to him.”

      “I was.”

      He sipped his coffee. “This is good.”

      Laura wrinkled her nose. “My mom’s grocery-store variety. Too bad I didn’t bring the good stuff. There’s this awesome coffee shop around the corner from my condo. They roast their own beans.”

      He laughed. “So you like more cultured coffee?”

      She turned the slices of bacon over. “Don’t you?”

      “I don’t care as long as it’s hot and fresh. Just don’t give me decaf.”

      “You’ll fit right in up here. You can’t get good coffee without driving into Houghton or Hancock.”

      “This area is not without culture.”

      The colleges, tourists and local artists gave the connected cities of Houghton and Hancock an attractive refinement. Some of it even trickled out into the four-corner towns like the one her mother lived near. But not much. “Yeah, right.”

      He looked offended. “I’m serious. During the peak of its mining day, this area was a draw for actors and playwrights from as far as the East Coast.”

      “Thanks for the history lesson, Dr. Stahl, but I learned all that in school. Houghton and Hancock are just a couple of college towns separated by a pretty river.”

      She patted his arm, but quickly pulled back when she felt his muscle flex beneath her touch. “Nice try, though.”

      Jack looked at his arm before glancing back at her. “Can I help?”

      She grabbed a carton of eggs, ignoring the brief tension that had materialized between them. “You can do the toast.”

      “Let me guess, you need nightlife and excitement. Noise.”

      She laughed. “I’m usually home by eight most nights and in bed by ten, real exciting.”

      Her cell phone rang. She pulled it out of the pocket of her sweats and answered. “This is Laura.”

      Her assistant gave her a message from Mr. Albertson about an invitation to a team-building retreat. Her manager RSVP’d for her to attend and Cindy sent her the details via email.

      Laura would check her BlackBerry later. She continued making breakfast while getting office updates and then finally disconnected.

       “She’s calling you on Sunday morning?” Jack looked shocked.

      Laura shrugged. “Sometimes we work weekends to catch up. No big deal.”

      “And I thought I worked hard.” Jack slipped two pieces of bread into the toaster.

      “Were you never on call for a weekend?”

      “Well, yeah.”

      “See, no difference.” Laura dumped scrambled eggs into a hot skillet.

      “So, why the long face?” Jack asked.

      She shook her head. “It’s nothing, really.”

      “You miss it,” Jack said.

      She looked into his eyes. Big mistake. His gaze held understanding. “I’ve been home a week and I’m itching to get back.”

      The toast popped up and Jack buttered it. “What do you like most about your job?”

      It was a good place to hide. With sales, everything was superficial. Laura didn’t have to make people happy, just meet their business needs by offering a fair contract of service. Her job gave her confidence, a sense of importance. Like she counted for something. “It’s something I do well.”

      “Better than making macaroni, I hope.” His blue eyes twinkled.

      If he was trying to flirt with her, he might as well give up. “Wait till you try the eggs. Should I call your daughter?”

      “She’s not much of a breakfast eater. If you don’t mind, I’ll let her sleep until after I shower.”

      “Sounds like a plan.” Laura sat down and focused on her plate.

      She grabbed a piece of bacon and bit into it. “Mmm. Gotta love grease.”

      Jack’s head was bowed. He really did the whole prayer thing before meals. He looked up at her and smiled.

      The strip of bacon hung between her lips. She pushed it in and mumbled, “Sorry.”

       He waved her apology aside. “So tell me, what are business solutions?”

      “Information system technology, network support, long-range planning, programming help, that sort of thing.” She wiped her greasy fingers on a napkin.