by Louise, Tia
“Hey there, handsome. Can I get you some coffee?” She gives me a wink, and I see her plastic nametag says Florence.
“Hi, Florence.” I return her grin. “That’d be great.”
She produces a gold-plastic carafe from beside her and fills the small cup on the table in front of me. “You can call me Flo. You’re new in town.”
“Just visiting the LaGrange Orchard. I’m friends with Sawyer.”
“You don’t say?” She looks curiously to where he stands with the two men. “Miracles never cease.”
I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean, but I’m glad for the coffee. It’s been a long morning, and it’s not even seven.
“You sticking around or just passing through?”
I sip the weak, brown concoction and nod. “We’re here a few weeks then we ship out for South America.”
“Ahh…” She slides a receipt out of her book across the table to me. “If you need somebody to show you around, you let me know.”
I lift the ticket and see a phone number written on it.
“Hey, Flo.” Sawyer is at the end of the table, digging in his front pocket. “You ready?”
I finish my drink with a slug, scooping up the scrap of paper. “How much do I owe you?”
She gives me another wink. “No charge, sugar. You just let me know if you need anything.”
“Hang on. If I don’t pay, you have to pay it out of your tips, right?”
She wrinkles her nose and shakes her head. “Don’t worry about it.”
Placing a ten in her hand, I pat her shoulder. “Keep the change.”
Her eyes warm. “And I thought southern gentlemen had gone out of style.”
“Just paying my bill.”
I don’t want to get into my family history, but I know how tight a waitress’s budget can be.
Sawyer punches my arm. “Come on, Casanova. See you later, Flo.”
She nods. “Glad to see you’re finally getting around to making friends… And good ones.”
We’re in the truck heading to the farm, and just like always, he doesn’t say much. It’s Sawyer’s style, though. He’s the quiet member of the group. Patton is all ambition, Marley’s always after a party, an escape. I’m… still searching for that answer.
The sun is higher in the sky, and the shimmering glow of dawn breaking over the peach orchard is gone. Now it’s sticky heat and rising humidity.
He leans forward. “It’s going to be a scorcher.”
“Did you get your team?”
“I think so. I think Digger will be a good pick to take over while I’m gone. Everything should run smoothly for a while.”
“You won’t leave your sister in charge?”
“Noel?” His forehead wrinkles. “She’s just a kid. Anyway, she’ll be starting college. She needs to focus on her studies.”
I know leaving the orchard and his siblings is heavy on his mind. I also know he really wants to do something for himself. Now could be his last chance—at least that’s what he told me.
He pulls off the narrow dirt road in front of the sprawling farm house. It’s the first time I’ve seen it in the daylight, and I’m impressed by the size. It’s a two-story structure with white wooden siding and a large, wraparound porch complete with swing. It’s the picture of classic Americana.
We slam our doors shut, and I follow him up the walk, past the small white picket fence and through the front door. My stomach immediately starts growling as the aromas of fresh toast, sizzling bacon, and fried eggs hit my nose.
“Damn, that smells good.” I rub my hands over my stomach.
Sawyer’s phone starts ringing, and he holds up a hand. “I’ll be right there. Head on in and introduce yourself to Noel.”
I’m not going to argue. I follow the scent of food, and the closer I get, I hear a high voice, singing an old Dolly Parton song. It’s the one that used to be on that TV show. It sounds good.
I push the swinging door open, and I’m almost knocked on my ass for the second time today.
Standing with her back to me, reaching high over her head into an open cabinet is not a kid by any stretch. Noel is petite and slender, with curves in all the right places. She’s wearing a fatigue-green tank top and cutoff shorts, and her glossy brown hair is piled on her head with little strands falling down.
I watch as she stretches higher for the plates, and my eyes glide down the smooth skin of her arm to her narrow waist over the curve of her ass and down her silky legs to her bare feet.
Her toenails are painted bright red.
Just as I’m about to offer to help, she hops up with one foot on the edge of the counter and grabs a big, ivory platter and bowl, but they must be too heavy for her. Everything seems to shift into slow motion.
She wobbles, and her song turns into a loud scream as she falls backward. “Oh, no… NO!”
“Noel!” I dive forward, and by some miracle, she lands in my arms, sending me down to my knees.
I’m leaning forward, holding her close. We’re both breathing fast, our noses almost touching. Her eyes blink open, and when they meet mine, golden-brown as whiskey, I think I’m falling.
A sharp inhale, and I’m surrounded by fresh spring and flowers. She’s soft as silk, her breasts against my chest, and her full, glossy lips part in front of mine.
I could kiss her…
“Sweet Jesus, an angel…” It’s a breathy whisper, a little raspy and a lot sexy.
“I’m Taron.”
Both plates are still in her hands. She blinks a few times before looking around. “Oh, hell.”
She pulls back, and I move to the side, helping her find her feet. When she stands, her legs are right in my face, smooth and muscular, and I resist the urge to reach out and slide my palm against her skin… Shit, get a grip, Taron.
“Are you okay?” I stand quickly, lightly touching her arm.
“I think so.” She glances up at me and smiles shyly, and I swear the earth moves. “I mean, yes… Thank you. That could’ve been bad.”
Her gaze captures me, and her tanned cheeks flush.
“Noel, Jesus!” We both jump as Sawyer enters the room shouting. “Can you use the damn step ladder!”
I step away from her fast, leaning against the counter, and she goes to where he’s standing in the doorway.
“Lord, Sawyer! You almost gave me a heart attack.”
“You’re going to give me a heart attack if you keep pulling stunts like that. I’m about to be out of the country, and you’re climbing around the kitchen like a circus performer with no net.”
“Shut up and give me a hug.” She reaches up to embrace him.
He glances at me. “Thanks for saving my idiot sister.”
“Jerk.” She pushes his shoulder. “Thank you, Taron.”
She smiles, but her eyes don’t quite meet mine. I can’t tell if she’s embarrassed or shaken up or something else. Either way, she turns and gives me another view of her cute little ass. My hand goes to my stomach, and I rub the sudden ache there.
“I hope you’re hungry. I made a half dozen eggs and a pile of biscuits.”
“I’m starving.” Sawyer goes to the table.
I force myself to stop staring at her like I’ve never seen a girl before. “How can I help?”
“Just wash up. The table’s set.” She moves quickly around the small space in her bare feet while I go to the sink and wash my hands.
She skips over to where I’m standing and hands me a towel, and the scent of her wraps around me again, fresh and warm, and my dream flickers through my head.
“Let’s eat.” Sawyer’s voice is sharp, and I join him at the table.
I’m not here for a summer romance. I’m here to help with the harvest. In a few short weeks, I’ll be gone, and I can’t lose sight of that—no matter how hot Sawyer’s “kid” sister is.
“Praise the Lord and pass the biscuits.” She sits across from me, and this time when our eyes meet, a hint of a grin
curls her lips.
Our gaze tangles like we’re sharing a secret, and all my good intentions slip right out the window.
2
Noel
Holy shit, Taron Rhodes is the sexiest man I’ve ever seen, and he just saved my life. Or my neck.
Or at the very least, my ass.
Now he’s sitting across the table from me, and every time he glances up, it’s like going over that hill at the top of the old orchard road at fifty miles per hour. My insides whoosh to my throat, and all my breath disappears.
“I can’t leave Caracas to visit you in the hospital…” Sawyer’s still going on like some old lady. “I need to know you’re making good choices, taking care of Leon.”
I take a sip of orange juice, trying to get my stomach to unclench so I can eat. “I won’t need a step ladder when you’re gone. I’ll just be cooking for two.”
Taron glances up at me again, and my stomach flips.
So much for breakfast.
He’s got the most amazing eyes. I can’t tell if they’re green or blue. They’re this pale blend of both colors, and they stand out under his dark brows and dark hair.
A close beard covers his cheeks. I’m sure he’ll have to shave it before he reports for duty—at least that’s what I’ve always heard—still, I’d like to rake my nails through it while I kiss his full lips…
“Pass the eggs,” my brother grunts.
Taron and I both reach at the same time, and when our fingers brush, I swear it sparks.
“I’ve got it.” His grin is playful, bad-boyish, and I hold in a sigh at the lines of muscle wrapping his arms as he passes the bowl.
“Jay Hidalgo and his crew will be here bright and early tomorrow morning.” Sawyer shovels more eggs onto his plate before dropping the wooden spoon.
That snaps me out of my swoon-fest. “Do I need to feed them?”
Shit, that’s a day-long trip to Walmart.
“I told him we don’t have time for that. They’ll bring their own meals. I need you with the high school kids on the sorter, not spending all day at the store.”
That old sadness nudges my chest. Sawyer’s been pretty good at keeping me in the loop about his deployment, but I think my brain just doesn’t want to hang onto the information. I keep forgetting the details.
“How long before you leave?”
“I’ll be here through the harvest, through the peach festival. We report on July fifth.”
Right after the holiday. I nod, looking down and pushing my food around my plate. Sawyer’s decision to join the military scared me at first. We’ve already lost so much, and then he went and picked the Marines. That’s like the hardest branch of the service. They serve the longest, and they’re in the most dangerous places…
“Dang, Noel!” My little brother Leon stomps into the kitchen in his cowboy boots like a one-man gang. “Why didn’t you call me for breakfast? You know I’m starving to death.”
“Your sister was too busy trying to kill herself.” Sawyer reaches out and musses Leon’s shaggy dark hair. “Grab a plate, kid.”
“I never have to worry about you leaving,” I tease as he drops into a chair. “Hoecake’ll get you.”
“Like you ever make hoecakes.” He grabs a cathead biscuit and straddles the chair.
“Shut up and eat,” I say gently, motioning to the platter. “Take two.”
As much as he eats, he’s still skinny as a rail. His jeans fall off his hips without a belt, and his red plaid shirt is loose over a white tank. His hair’s too long, and he reminds me of a young horse, messy and wild.
“I know somebody who makes damn good hoecakes.” Taron’s rich voice joins the conversation.
“You make hoecakes?” Sawyer laughs, and I wonder when my brother got to be such a dad. He’s the same age as Taron, but they’re worlds apart. “Report for KP at oh-six hundred tomorrow.”
A dimple pierces Taron’s scruffy cheek and those eyes are back on me. It’s like fizzy liquid in my veins. “I don’t mind helping you with breakfast.”
I look down at my plate, trying to stop all the butterflies. Seriously, Noel? You’d think I’ve never seen a good-looking man before.
“Sure. That’d be great.” My voice is quiet.
Leon squints over at him. “You’re Sawyer’s friend?”
“Taron,” he supplies.
I push Leon’s foot off the chair. “Sit up at the table like you’ve got manners.”
“Get off me, woman!” Leon shoves another bite of biscuit in his mouth, and I shoot Sawyer a look.
“That’s no woman, that’s your sister.” My oldest brother deadpans.
All three guys laugh, and my eyes narrow.
“Thanks.” Sarcasm is thick in my tone, and Leon laughs more, bumping his chest against the table.
Sawyer clears his throat, and I guess because he’s a Marine now or maybe because he’s leaving, he has the decency to try and salvage the situation.
“Leon.” His voice is sharp. “I need you to help Noel while I’m gone. Treat her with respect.”
Leon groans like the fifteen-year-old he is. Sawyer must give him a glare I don’t see because he changes his tune. “Okay.”
“Are your friends coming today?” Sawyer shifts the conversation to business. “We need them ready to sort tomorrow morning. Jay’s coming with his crew.”
My little brother shrugs. “They said they’d be here.”
“Why don’t you text them and be sure.”
He lets out a groan and pushes out of his seat. “Good breakfast, sis.”
“Take another biscuit.” I put one in his hand as he scuffs out the door.
Sawyer stands, pulling his phone from his pocket. “I’ll check on the crate situation. Thanks, Noel.”
He’s out the door, leaving me at a table full of dirty dishes.
Taron sits back watching them go before turning to me. He’s so damn hot. “Are they always like that?”
My brow furrows as I pretend to think then nod. “Pretty much.”
“So you make breakfast, they eat it, give you a hard time, then leave you to clean it all up?”
“Well… I mean, it’s what we do. The house is mine.” Pushing away from the table, I start collecting the dishes and carrying them to the sink. Behind me, I hear him doing the same, and I turn around. “You don’t have to—”
“I came here to help.” He gives me another grin, and I chew my bottom lip, watching him carry dirty plates, his broad shoulders stretching his cotton tee. He’s gotta be at least six-two.
“I think Sawyer is expecting you to help with the men’s work.”
“The men’s work?” His voice changes. “Now that is something I would not expect to hear from you.”
“How come?” My eyes narrow. “You’ve never met me.”
“True.” He nods. “But I know your brother, and he said you graduated with honors and plan to go to business school in the fall.”
“I do.” Crossing back to the table, I pick up the last of the dirty plates. “And I don’t expect to have to lift and carry a bushel of peaches in a board room.”
“A bushel.” He holds a towel, and I wash the first dish, passing it to him to dry.
“That’s fifty pounds.” I hand him another clean plate, and he dries it, reaching overhead to return them to their shelf each time.
When he does it, his shirt rises, and I get a glimpse of the lines of muscle in his stomach. Hot.
“I see.” He looks at me again, and my eyes snap to the soapy water. “On the farm, work is divided by who can carry the most weight?”
“I don’t know about farms.” I pass him another plate, sliding my eyes to the side for another peek at his abs. “But at LaGrange Orchard, we put everybody where they can be the most useful. Like, you’re pretty good at drying dishes, and you claim you can make hoecakes—”
“I make damn good hoecakes. You’ll see.”
Leaning closer, I catch a whiff of his scent, masculine and cle
an. “Still, I wouldn’t waste your back in the kitchen when you’re needed on the loading dock.”
I flip the switch for the garbage disposal and help the food scraps down the drain. Akela trots into the room as if on cue, and I toss her the last piece of bacon, then I squat down to rub her fluffy white neck while she chews.
Taron crosses his arms watching us. “She knocked me on my ass this morning.”
“Akela!” Laughter tickles in my stomach, and I shake my face at her. She only licks my nose. “Did you knock Taron down?”
He squats beside me to pet her head. “Huskey?”
“Yeah.” I give her one more neck scrub and stand. “Somebody dumped her out in the field when she was a puppy. Sawyer said I couldn’t keep her, but he’s not my dad.”
His eyes sober at my words. “Sawyer told me what happened to your parents. That must’ve been rough.”
“It was a long time ago.” I don’t know why I always say that. No matter how many years pass, losing both our parents the way we did is a pain that never leaves.
Now my brother’s leaving home, putting himself in harm’s way.
With a sigh, I push those feelings away like I always do. Feeling bad doesn’t change a damn thing.
“Sorry all the women around here are throwing themselves at you.”
“I’m glad I was here to catch you.”
“Me too.” I blink up and try to smile.
We share a moment… until the back door opens, and Sawyer sticks his head in. “You planning to stay in the house all day or you coming to help?”
“He helped me with the dishes.”
“Hoecake, dishes… Get out here where I need you.”
“You’ll take that back in the morning.” Taron jogs down the steps after my brother.
I walk out to the porch watching his tight end as he walks away. Exhaling a little sigh, I step into my cowboy boots. The teenagers are milling around in the sorting shed, and if Sawyer’s prepping for the crew, I need to teach these kids how to sort peaches.
They’ll be coming in fast tomorrow, and we won’t have time for them to get behind. The next two weeks are going to be insane around here.
3
