Home of a mother, wife, writer

“All I’m saying, is that if you blow up the house, you’re going to be so fired.”

Maddix glanced over at the girl standing in the doorway. Maribel. And not really a girl. She was just as much an adult as he was. Still, he’d avoided her as much as he could since the first day he’d come to her father’s office for work. It wasn’t easy when the office was at their house.

“I’m not going to blow the house up,” he said, trying to hold onto his scowl. That was damn near impossible when he saw the way her eyes were twinkling. She was laughing at him.

That shouldn’t make him want her more. He turned back to the counter, studying the machine in front of him.

“It’s not that hard,” she said, coming up behind him. “And it’s not a bomb. If you hit the wrong button, it’s not going to explode.”

“Then, why did you think I’d blow up the house?”

That laugh left her eyes and flowed right through her. And into him. Her arm brushed his, and he thought he would explode, bomb or not.

“You were concentrating so hard,” she told him, “I thought your head might burst. Who knows what might go with it.”

Then, he couldn’t help but laugh, too. Until she brushed against him again. Why did she have to keep doing that? Didn’t she realize what it did to him? Judging by the glint in her eyes, she did. But, all she did was press one of the buttons on the machine. “If you’re making coffee for Dad, that’s the one you want.”

Then, she turned and walked back out of the kitchen. He barely mumbled a thanks before she was gone again. Maybe he should turn in his resignation, and save his sanity, before her father really did fire him.


Yeah, Maddix, that’s so not going to happen. I wouldn’t make it that easy on you. I will be getting around to writing Mad and Mari’s story eventually. I have a few more to go before that, though.


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