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.