"Myra, what are you baking this year?" Her mom inquired curiously.

It was Thursday morning, Thanksgiving day, and Myra was once again in charge of dessert. No one wanted her involved in cooking activities requiring sharp utensils, so she'd become quite adept in the baking department. Pecan Pie with a bottom layer of chocolate was a family favorite, so she always did that, but this year, she had a surprise for everyone.

"I'm doing pecan and pumpkin pies because you guys love them, but I have a surprise too. I know that you, mom, will especially like it."

Myra ginned at the excited look on her mom's face.

"I'm looking forward to whatever it is. You make the best desserts, Myra."

"Ok, now get out of here so I can work!" Myra shooed her mom out of the kitchen with a wave of her hands.

Laughing, Brenda scurried away, calling back over her shoulder, "Don't forget we need to start the other food by noon!”

As her mom disappeared around the corner, Myra pulled her apron over her head with a smile. She loved baking for her family because they loved the things she baked. Making them happy made her happy. Three hours. She thought. Plenty of time.

* * *

"Liam, you're wearing us out!" Paul Valentine exclaimed, dropping his tennis racket on the court bench.

"I keep telling Keegan to come play with me," Liam teased, grinning at his best friend. "But he tells me tennis is a rich man's sport and he has wobbly ankles."

Liam regarded Paul with a held-back grin, pointing his tennis racket at him. "Maybe you could check those out, Dr. Valentine? Maybe check his head too, because last I checked, your son is a rich man."

Paul laughed and patted Keegan on the back. "Ah, this one's never been big on physical activity. Unless there's a lady involved." He amended with a wink, and Liam bit down on his molars to keep from saying something about Keegan’s physical activities where women were involved.

"Liam, since you're so fit, why don't you climb those stairs and get us out-of-shapes some water." Keegan nodded toward the flight of stairs leading back to the main house, licking his lips like a man dying of thirst.

"No worries," Liam laughed as he turned in the direction of the house. "I've got you."

He was still smiling when he entered the back door and made his way to the kitchen, thinking how lucky he was to have the Valentines as a surrogate family. He missed his parents every day, holidays even more so, but being with this, his second family, made the ache a little more bearable. Turning the corner to the kitchen, he stopped abruptly at the sight that greeted him.

Myra.

Myra on all fours, that perfectly round ass inviting his eyes to have their fill. She was head-first in a lower cabinet, searching for something, humming a Christmas tune and wagging that delicious ass of hers side to side, mesmerizing him. Apparently finding what she'd been after, she started to scoot backward when he blinked, clearing his throat. His intention was to collect himself, but the noise startled her and up came her head to meet the top of the cabinet with a thud.

"OUCH!" Myra squealed, her hand going to the back of her head, rubbing it as she sat back on her heels with a wince.

Liam rushed to her side and knelt next to her, brushing her hand away to replace it with his own.

"I'm sorry, Myra. I didn't mean to startle you." He felt the small bump on the back of her head and swallowed back the awful feeling of being the one to put it there.

"It's ok." She consoled him. "I shouldn't have been startled like that."

Myra didn't look at him, just picked up the bowls that had fallen from her grasp and pushed herself to her feet.

"I need to get some water." He explained. "I wore your dad and Keegan out." He grinned at her, trying to elicit that smile that always lightened him.

It worked. She smiled at him with a rueful grin, her blue eyes twinkling like diamonds. "Keegan is terribly out of shape for a thirty-three year-old." She agreed, laughing more to herself than him. She reached to a high cupboard, groping around for some glasses, and Liam had to bite his lip to stifle the sound that almost escaped him. A sliver of perfectly tan skin peeked at him from the place where her tank top rode up. He clenched his fist against the desire to reach for her, imagining how soft that skin would feel beneath his fingertips.

"I'll get you a pitcher to take to them."

He came back to himself as she set a pitcher and two glasses on the counter. "I can fill it." He volunteered.

"Sure." She handed the pitcher to him, then turned to grab one more glass.

Crossing to the refrigerator, he noticed the kitchen as a whole for the first time and burst out laughing. "You're really going all out, aren't you?"

The center island was covered in flower, sugar, wrappers, measuring utensils, and some things he wasn't even going to try to guess at. He looked up at her just in time to see a hurt expression cross her face before being replaced by a self-depreciating smile. "I do make a mess." She shrugged with her arms outstretched. "I'll have it cleaned up before the others come in to make the real food. Don't worry."

Myra covered her emotions with smiles. Liam had known that about her since he came home with Keegan for the first time ten years ago. With all the innocence of an eleven year-old girl, she'd been the one to hold him in the darkness of the Valentine barn as he'd sobbed into her hair. At the time, he'd blamed his loss of control on an inability to reconcile his parents' deaths, but through the years, he'd learned that Myra had a special ability to give comfort. There was something about her sweet nature, her caring heart, that put people at ease and encouraged them to unload their emotional burdens to her. On that night, he’d been the one apologizing, embarrassed by his overwhelming outburst. Myra had smiled through her own tears and told him it was ok to cry, told him he could cry on her shoulder anytime he needed to and she wouldn't tell. He hadn't done it again, and she never mentioned it, even though she always made him feel like her shoulder was his if he needed it. Now, he wondered whose shoulder she cried on.

"Myra."

She turned those sapphire eyes on him, still working that smile, but faltering slightly under the weight of his gaze. "It's ok. I didn't say that to chastise the beautiful mess you've made."

She blinked, a confused look crossing her lovely face. Liam set the pitcher down and moved to stand in front of her. He shoved his hands into his pockets, the way he did so often to keep from touching her the way he wanted to, when she looked up at him, eyes wide, uncertainty etched all over her delicate features.

"I said that because I know you're pouring your heart out here. I, for one, am grateful that you prepare our thanksgiving desserts each year with so much love." He allowed the smile he'd been holding back to play on his lips, noticed the way her eyes darted there, then quickly moved back to his eyes. Noted.

"Thank you, Liam. That's kind of you to say."

Myra took a small step back and he turned to grab the pitcher and glasses. "Thank you for the water." He called over his shoulder, exiting the kitchen, heading back to Keegan and Paul.

For years, Liam had worked with difficulty to keep his distance and his head when it came to Myra, but that was a task that proved more difficult, not less, with the passage of time. There was no denying the way she'd looked at him, there in the kitchen. Maybe it's time to test those waters, he thought. He would talk to her brother and father before he made any moves, but if there was any chance in the world that Myra felt something, anything for him, he would take that chance and run with it, even if he had to be vanilla for the rest of his life. Because if there was one thing Liam learned from his parents' too soon passing, it was that life should be lived while it was livable, and Myra was the one he wanted to live it with, if she’d have him.