Page 18 of Mack

“‘Kay.” He turned back to Mack. “Can I come see your horses sometime?”

Mack looked at Mallory across the table, then back at T.J. “You both can. Anytime.”

“Can we ride them?”

“The horses are pretty big for you right now, so you’d have to ride with your mama. But sure.”

“Can I ride with you instead?”

“You can.”

T.J. settled that with a firm nod. “We’ll do that, Mama.”

Mallory looked up and found Mack already watching her, something quiet and steady in those gray eyes. She felt the warmth move through her before she could stop it.

She didn’t know nearly enough about this man. But sitting here in her kitchen with fried chicken going cold on her plate and her son giggling beside her, she was starting to want to.

When dinner was over Mack pushed back his chair, stood, and picked up his plate along with T.J.’s and carried them to the sink. Then he went back for the glasses.

Mallory watched him without moving.

Troy had never once cleared a dish from a table in the time she’d known him. She was still staring when Mack turned and caught her.

“Am I overstepping?”

“No, it’s just—” She shook her head. “Never mind.”

“Should these go in the dishwasher?”

“I can do it.”

“You cooked. I’ll load it.” He said it simply, as if it wasn’t a discussion.

“I don’t know how to load it,” T.J. offered helpfully, lifting his arms to be lifted down. Mack set him on his feet without missing a beat.

“You’re a little young yet. But you should help your mama when you can.”

“When I get older I will.” He held up three fingers. “I’m three.”

“You’ve got time. But moms appreciate it.”

“‘Kay. I will.” He grabbed his T-Rex and headed for the living room. “Mama, I want to watch a movie!”

Mallory was already reaching for the leftovers. “Let me guess—”

“Finding Nemo! Please!”

She sighed. “Knew that was coming.” She handed Mack the container of mashed potatoes and headed for the living room. “I’ll be right back.”

****

Mack finished loading the dishwasher, wiped down the counter with the cloth hanging from the oven handle, and followed the sound of the television to the living room.

T.J. was already on the couch, Rex tucked under one arm and the Brontosaurus under the other, eyes fixed on the screen. He patted the cushion beside him without looking up.

“You can sit here, Mack.”

Mack looked at Mallory, who was settling into the armchair across the room. She gave him a small shrug that said she had no explanation for her son.