A Gentleman's Kiss Romance Collection

by Ginny Aiken

  Mason looked back at the house and through the kitchen window where he could see Reba preparing the spaghetti.

  “And this is where we go if there’s a torndo.” Hannah pointed to the cellar. “I’ve never been in a torndo. Mama says it’s when the wind blows hard. I saw The Wizard of Oz, so I hope one happens. Have you ever been in a torndo?” This time she waited for an answer.

  “When I was in college, a tornado came through this area. It didn’t really strike here, but it blew a lot of things down.”

  “Houses?” Hannah said hopefully.

  “No.”

  “People in rocking chairs?”

  “No.”

  “Dogs?” Hannah glanced at Bark and looked indecisive.

  “Signs,” Mason told her. “Cheap signs.”

  Chapter 5

  The serious softball players were angry that this was their first practice. A few didn’t care. Five of the players complained about having to practice at all. While observing and encouraging their warm-up exercises, Reba tried to tie names to the histories she’d studied over the weekend.

  Reba had gone over all their stats and knew both she and they were at a serious disadvantage. Even though this was only intramurals, the first game was Saturday. Plus, these girls would be hers when softball season started. Many of them were already hers, on the volleyball team. Shiloh wasn’t known for its women’s athletics. Reba wasn’t known for losing.

  Cindy, the English department’s student aide, smiled encouragingly. Too bad Cindy could catch but not throw. Reba started putting the girls to positions.

  “Tiffany.” The first name came out strong, but Reba choked on the last name. Her third baseman’s last name was … but surely, Clark was a popular name. They couldn’t all be related to Mason.

  Redheaded, a gum chewer, and sassy, Tiffany Clark wore tight shorts and makeup that begged comment. Reba would guess the girl majored in complaining and had a bright future.

  Reba snapped her own gum and crooked a finger. “My notes say that you only played half season last year. Want to tell me why?”

  Reba’s notes also said why.

  “The coach and I had a difference of opinion.”

  “Yes?”

  Tiffany had the grace to shift her glance downward, but the gumption to state, “She said she was the coach, and I said she wasn’t.”

  The girls were waiting for the next move.

  “Are we gonna have that problem this year?” Reba asked.

  “I don’t know. I guess that depends on whether you coach or just sit there and tell us what to do.”

  “Just so you know,” Reba said, “it will not take me half a season to bench you.”

  “Just so you know,” Tiffany responded, this time look-ing Reba in the eye, “I’m good.”

  Reba smiled. “Let’s see how good.” Putting the girls into places, Reba stepped up to bat. Cindy was fighting tears over being placed in right field. Tiffany snapped gum and—”Hi, Uncle Mason!”

  The ball Reba meant to line to third limped to the pitcher.

  Except for passing Mason in the hall and noticing him at chapel every morning, Reba had managed to avoid the man.

  He had charmed Hannah, and almost every night for the last two weeks she’d asked when he was coming back over. Reba and Bark weren’t won that easily.

  Mason had turned the spaghetti dinner into a big deal. He taught Hannah to coil the noodles around her fork. He made a happy face with the meatballs. He took up too much space in the kitchen, and he wore the wrong aftershave.

  He wore jeans today. A light blue T-shirt accented how much his shoulders had spread in comparison to his lean body.

  Tiffany snapped a bubble. Reba turned just in time to witness an exaggerated rolling of the eyes. This time, Reba’s bat sent the ball screaming to third, where Tiffany didn’t even have time to move to catch it.

  Before the girl could comment, the catcher tossed Reba another ball, and she spun one between Tiffany’s legs.

  Two complainers shut up. They turned the bills of their baseball caps around, squatted, and yelled, “Aaa, batter, batter.”

  Two hours later, the only one who left practice unhappy was Cindy. Mason had opened his briefcase, graded papers, talked on his cell phone, and watched Reba the whole time. When practice ended, he walked with Tiffany to his car, and they drove off. Yeah, right, like he was here for his niece. Reba knew better. Still, it was much too soon to enjoy the attention of a single man—especially a single man who made bumping into her a hobby while claiming that they needed to avoid each other and the past.

  She had enough to worry about without Mason adding to it. There were times when she still turned in the night, expecting to hear Ray snoring. Occasionally, she caught the scent of his aftershave at the grocery store. Hannah still ran through the front door yelling, “Mom, Da—”

  Reba was putting the last bat away when she glanced at her watch. Six fifteen.

  Six fifteen!

  Day-care at Hannah’s school ended at six. Every fifteen minutes tardy was an additional five dollars. Racing across the baseball field, she managed a record two-minute sprint.

  “I was the only one, Mommy.” Hannah’s scolding surpassed the day-care teacher’s disapproving look.

  “I’m sorry, honey. I was helping the softball players and time got away from me.”

  The uniform Reba had put on Hannah this morning looked like it had seen combat. There was a tear in the sleeve. A ketchup drip made a path from collar to hem. One sock stretched toward Hannah’s knee; the other hid in her shoe. Dirt had found a magnet. “Marky never goes to day-care. His mother picks him up right at three. I want to be picked up at three.”

  “I will pick you up at three on Mondays and Wednesdays.”

  Hannah’s sigh said, not good enough. Reba rubbed between her daughter’s shoulder blades and took a breath. It was truly a beautiful day. She’d finally mastered all her students’ names; softball practice turned out better than she’d hoped possible; Hannah missed being with her mommy, and Mason had come to practice.

  No! Reba stopped in her tracks, so suddenly that Hannah stumbled.

  “What, Mommy?”

  “Nothing, baby; I was just thinking.”

  Thinking things best left alone, Reba told herself. From every angle, Mason Clark looked to be a nice guy, but Reba had been fooled before. This time, she had Hannah to think about.

  Over a hundred college students attended Shiloh Church. Mason figured another hundred trekked across town to Community Church, just to be different, and he knew at least another hundred didn’t bother to attend on Wednesday nights. Of course, he figured that same hundred didn’t come on Sundays either.

  Mason taught a class on faith and works. Most of his students were the kind who were willing to get their hands dirty in order to make society a better place. He had future social workers, counselors, and lawyers, plus a few soon-to-be ministers. He also had a handful of females who’d placed him on their wish list. Dating a student was not something Mason intended to do.

  Mason struggled to vary what his group did. School had been in session for a month. Their first service project had been sewing dolls for the small hospital that Creed shared with neighboring Trinity, Iowa. The tiny cloth dolls were used to demonstrate to children just where the surgery would take place. A doll used to explain a tonsillectomy would have an X drawn on its throat. The students gathered in the hospital’s small cafeteria, pushed tables together, and stitched for two hours. Cindy and two other girls managed five dolls each. Mason had struggled through two. The rest of the young men had produced snowmanlike monstrosities that were sure to cause soon-to-be young owners to either howl with laughter or scream with fright.

  Mason tried to organize at least one outing a month. He’d been wondering what to do next. Seeing Reba’s house spearheaded an idea, though he knew she’d hate it. That’s why he’d proposed doing it this Saturday. The girls’ volleyball team had an away game. As assistant co
ach, Reba needed to attend. Mason’s class would have at least a three-hour window in which to work. The Webbs had been gone four years. The first renter had not been kind to the old house.

  There were sixteen in his class. Half of those nodded that they could be there.

  Jag grumbled, “I have to take pictures of the volleyball match for the paper.”

  “You could miss it once,” Cindy said. “Someone else could take pictures.”

  “No, I’m working, too. Mrs. Payne is taking Hannah along and hired me to watch her.”

  Mason looked from Cindy to Jag. They were dating, already—too soon, in Mason’s opinion. Cindy’s blond hair was swept into a ponytail, and she wore a dress. Jag’s jeans were torn. His T-shirt advertised a rock group, a Christian rock group, but still not a T-shirt to wear to church.

  What was Reba thinking, hiring Jag to babysit? Hannah was much too impressionable. It had to be money. Cindy probably charged more an hour than Jag. That had to be it.

  The class agreed on the time; Mason dismissed them, erased the dry erase board, and stepped out into the hallway. He hadn’t seen Reba in church. Maybe she attended Community. Of course, back in college, she’d been one of the hundred that hadn’t attended services regularly. Had that changed? Most of his friends got even more serious about church once they had children. His older brother, Richard, had.

  Mason chuckled as he entered the foyer. Groups of people milled around, talking, planning, hugging. He didn’t see Tiffany, and he’d promised to drive her to the store. Tiffany was a handful, and so much like Richard that Mason sometimes wanted to throttle her. The whole family had prayed. Tiffany hated church, refused to attend after she turned sixteen, and seemed to be drifting into the wrong crowd. Always one to be on the go, as a senior in high school, Tiffany had attended Encounter in Abilene, Texas, only because it got her out of town. The weekend rally among Christian youth was a turning point. Mason could only imagine what words, songs, prayers, got through to the girl, but she came back with a new perspective.

  Had that happened to Reba? Had she found peace with God after being expelled from Shiloh? There had to be some difference for Roger Howard, a noted Bible professor, to recommend her for employment. The man had pull, but the fact that she was a relative wouldn’t earn her even a last-minute position. Her IQ would be in her favor, but her age would not. Mason wondered when Roger, who was on a mission trip in Africa, would return. Reba needed family.

  She’d been a sophomore, just like Tiffany was now, when she got kicked out of Shiloh. That was six years ago. Hannah was in kindergarten. The little girl had mentioned that fact no less than ten times during supper. Kindergarten meant at least five years old. Reba became a mother about a year after leaving Shiloh. How had she wound up with Professor Howard’s nephew? Mason had to admire her, though. She’d still managed to finish school and get an advanced degree. She was a smart one. That’s how he’d first met her. He was a junior, and she a lowly freshman. Only seven students had signed up for Latin: five religion majors, Mason, and Rebecca Harper.

  His first thought when she walked into the classroom, pushing the envelope on the dress code—much like his niece and Jag—was that she might be all of twelve years old. Then, she’d proceeded to rearrange the grading curve so that five prospective pastors and Mason had to form a killer study group and make the library a second home. He hadn’t taken Latin second semester. He’d next met up with her the following year as class president. She worked on the school paper. She no longer looked twelve, yet she still appeared fragile to him. Mason Clark, youngest son of Wayne and Betty Clark, suddenly didn’t think the world centered on him. He knew the world centered on her, and that he wanted to be in that sunshine.

  “Hey, Uncle Mason, you coming?” Tiffany yanked on his arm. “You feeling okay?”

  One of the deacons was locking the doors. “Yep; I’m thinking about our service project this Saturday.”

  “I think it’s cool that you’re going to work on Mrs. Payne’s house. It’s a dump and could be so pretty. I like her dog.”

  “You like Bark?”

  If Mason knew one thing about Tiffany, it was that she never stood still. So, when she stopped, grinned, and got a funny look in her eye, he knew he was in for something. “What?”

  “How do you know her dog’s name is Bark?”

  “She has the office down from mine.”

  “Really—what’s my dog’s name?”

  “You have a dog?”

  “Only for the past ten years.”

  “Tiffany, so what if I know her dog’s name?”

  “Oh, Uncle Mason, this is cool. She’s good. We have the best workouts. You know, I did wonder why you came to my softball practice. I mean, you never did before.”

  “I was giving you a ride to the movies.”

  “Yeah, but you got there two hours early. One of the girls said she saw you and Mrs. Payne at Wal-Mart together. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”

  “Tiffany, there’s nothing to tell.” Mason forced himself not to predict, yet.

  Chapter 6

  The volleyball team lost, but Reba had high hopes. They were only a month into their season. Both Cindy and Tiffany had acted distracted. The referee had been less than consistent. Volleyball was not Reba’s game. She’d been a so-so player. At five foot three, she’d never managed the maneuvers necessary to do more than set the ball.

  Reba ushered her group of students into the station wagon. Hannah sat in the middle, between Reba and Tiffany. Cindy and Jag were in the backseat.

  “Pizza?” Tiffany suggested.

  “Ice cream,” Cindy countered.

  “I need to get back to the dorm,” Jag said.

  Reba wondered if the young man was savvy enough to realize that neither pizza nor ice cream were in her budget yet.

  The wind blew leaves across the neighborhood as she pulled onto her street. The rev of an overexuberant lawn mower warred with the noise of a friendly football game across the way. Reba thought that was one of the great things about her house. There was always something to see. She and Hannah often sat on the porch swing for hours and watched the college students play, study, and court.

  As she pulled into the driveway, Reba noticed full bags stacked by the huge cottonwood in her front yard. The ankle-deep leaves were all gone. Closer scrutiny revealed there was no longer a hole in her screen door, and the porch swing looked suspiciously cleaner? Darker? Painted!

  Tiffany’s grin spoke volumes. Jag and Cindy had Cheshire smiles. From the backyard came a young man Reba didn’t know. What looked to be pieces from Bark’s doghouse were in his arms.

  Count to ten, Reba told herself. After the wagon stopped, somehow Hannah managed to get from the middle to outside before Tiffany. Bark came around the corner. First he jumped on the strange young man’s leg to be petted. Then, he ran to Hannah and jumped on her. He quickly circled to sniff Reba’s shoe, and once assuring himself that his family was all right, he raced to the backyard and barked his Number Three Special Killer Guard Dog impersonation.

  “It’s Mason,” Reba muttered.

  “Yep,” Tiffany agreed.

  Unlocking the front door, Reba was greeted by the mess she’d left this morning. At least Mason hadn’t had the audacity to enter her house. She quickly went to the back door.

  The porch rails had been fixed. Hannah’s swing now hung equally balanced. Bark’s new doghouse had one door. Everything looked great, including the man pushing the lawn mower. This was quite possibly the first time she’d seen Mason in shorts.

  “Mason Clark, come here!”

  He kept pushing the mower and pointed to his ears to let her know he couldn’t hear.

  Cindy helped Hannah into her swing. Laughter joined mower until Reba put her hands over her ears.

  Jag was in the kitchen. “Mason ordered pizza. Do you have paper plates or can I borrow your wagon to go to the store?”

  “We have napkins. That will work.” Looking out the
side window, Reba saw the rest of Mason’s crew. They were cutting down the bush that had melded with the fence in a great tangle of limbs and chain links before dying. No way could she gripe at Mason in front of all these students who had given up part of their Saturday for her.

  One of the students looked up and waved. “Hi, Mrs. Payne. You have a great dog.”

  Reba nodded. So far the only person Bark hadn’t welcomed into his domain was Mason.

  What did Bark know that Reba didn’t?

  It was all Mason could do to keep his eyes closed while Jag said grace. Mason wanted to watch Reba. The students’ easy laughter helped somewhat, but it took Reba until the second piece of pizza before she relaxed. Although Mason knew she was irritated at him, it was worth it to see her laugh and joke with his Bible school class.

  After the final piece of pizza disappeared, most of the students headed for the dorms. Reba did the few dishes and watched out the kitchen window as Cindy and Jag took Hannah to the swing. Mason stuffed the pizza boxes into the trash.

  “I’ll do that later.” Reba folded the dish towel over the faucet and sat at the table, one leg curled under the other, and sipped her soda while watching Hannah in the backyard. “You probably have other things to do.”

  Mason honestly couldn’t think of anyplace he’d rather be. “No, let me. This is easy.”

  “I can’t believe you did all this. The kids from your Bible class are great.”

  “I had most of them last year, too. There are only two new ones. Jag, and a girl who’s on your softball team.”

  “Mason, this is too much. Please don’t surprise me again.”

  “Why not?”

  “Didn’t you tell me, that first day in my office, that you didn’t want people to tie us together?”

  “I’ve rethought that. You surprised me. I expected to find a Mrs. Robards impersonator, and instead I found a piece of my past who can still leave me speechless.”

  “Speechless! You? Never.”

  “You mean to tell me you didn’t know?”