Spencer Hernandez is a kind-hearted firefighter in Haughville, Indiana. After working his long 24 hour shifts, he goes to diner where he spends time with her.
Between her gorgeous face and fast wit, Harper Kennedy is the woman of Spencer's dreams...
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"¡Hola!" I called into my parents' house as I opened the door.
My greeting was met with silence, which felt strange for the usually vibrant house. My four brothers and their families were normally in and out often, so silence meant I was the only son visiting.
"In here," Dad's voice came from the living room.
I walked down the hallway and smiled instantly when I saw my dad's silver hair and freckled skin sitting in his favorite recliner. The familiar spots were becoming obscured by the age lines appearing all over his face.
"Hey, Dad." I sat down on the couch. "Where's Mamá?"
"Picking some lettuce from the garden for lunch," Dad replied, his eyes trained on the TV.
"Who's winning?" I asked as I settled against the couch.
"Not the right team," my dad grumbled.
He reached for a bottle of water but was just far enough away from it that he couldn't reach it. I stood and handed it to him as the old sliding door squealed open.
"It's already blazing hot out," Mamá complained in her thick Latin accent.
"Leave the door open," Dad replied.
Two things would make Dad stand up from watching a football game. One needed another beer, and two was Mamá. He walked over to her and planted a firm kiss on her lips, and I loved that after decades of marriage, no matter how long they were apart, they always greeted each other.
Mamá gasped when she finally noticed me standing there. "Spencer! ¿Cómo estás, mi amor?"
She shuffled over to me, wrapping me in a tight hug, lettuce still in hand. I made a mental note to check that I didn't have dirt on my back before I left.
"Estoy bien, Mamá," I answered.
"I'm surprised to see you," she said as she walked to the kitchen.
I followed. "You told me to come by.'
"She says that to all five of you," Dad said, nestled back into his chair, watching the game.
"It's because none of you visit enough," Mamá said.
"This house is always full," I retorted.
"Dad? ¿Mamá?" Hector, my oldest brother, called from the front door.
"Case in point." I pointed in the direction his voice came from.
Mamá clicked her tongue and waved a dismissive hand.
"We're in the kitchen," Dad replied to my brother.
The TV went quiet then footsteps came from both directions into the kitchen. Dad and Hector appeared at the same time. Hector's dark, curly hair emerged from the left while Dad came in behind me.
