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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Everything was going according to my plan. I purposefully picked Harper up early to get to my parent's house before my brothers. Hector would be annoyingly on time. Next would come Paul. He would text Hector to see when he showed up so he didn't arrive earlier. Being the noisest brother, Paul would be pacing his house, waiting for when he could show up without being called out for being a busybody. Mikey will show up at his usual time, not too early, but also not late, with the cool nonchalance I liked about him. Julien would be very late and likely forget that this whole dinner was arranged to meet my new girlfriend.
The more I thought about my chaotic family, the more I felt convinced coming early was for the best. Harper would need time to acclimate herself to them, if possible.
I put my hand on the doorknob, nerves kicking in. I looked over at Harper, who gave me an encouraging smile. I pushed the door open, and we stepped inside.
" ¿Mamá?" I called into the house. "Dad?"
"Spencer? Back here!" Mamá spoke in Spanish.
I laced my fingers through Harper's and pulled her hand to my lips. I brushed a soft kiss on her knuckles before asking, "Are you ready."
Harper took a deep breath, closing her eyes. When she opened them, she looked down at her belly, which was covered by an oversized sweater. I wasn't surprised when she came out of the diner wearing something to help conceal her bump. We both knew eventually, we'd have to come clean, but I wanted Harper to feel comfortable. It wasn't my news to tell. I pressed my hand to her belly, running my thumb along the swell.
"I just hope Lemon is ready." Harper looked at me and shrugged. "And that your family is ready for Lemon."
I kissed her lips. "They will be."
I squeezed her hand, then led her around the corner into the living room. Mamá catapulted from the couch, pulling Harper into a bone-crushing hug. Harper still gripped my hand, clenching and unclenching like she was asking me to help her escape.
"Mamá, let her breathe," I teased in Spanish.
Mamá released Harper from her death grip but grabbed her wrist, forcing our hands apart. She took Harper's hands in hers, eyes wet and a large smile on her lips.
"She's so beautiful, Spencer," Mamá said in English. "Welcome to our home, Harper. I'm Aletha."
"Hello, Aletha. Thank you. Your house is beautiful," Harper said in Spanish, and my mouth hit the floor.
Mamá's grin grew wider. "¿Tu hablas español?"
Pale pink brushed Harper's cheeks as she responded in Spanish. "Not well."
Mamá clicked her tongue and replied in Spanish. "You speak beautifully, my dear."
