Page 61 of Good Directions

15

SAWYER

“I was starting to think I was never going to get you to myself ever again.”

Anton’s crooked smile tilts even more to one side as he sizes me up, dragging his eyes up and down my body, like I’m one of those massive tomahawk steaks and he hasn’t eaten in a week.

I shake my head, taking his outstretched hand and stepping into his house. “I’m not the one who spent pretty much every night since he got back from Atlanta either in one of the fields picking peaches or in the packing plants shipping them out.”

Such is the life of a peach farmer at the peak of the season, after all. I know this year has been different since they’ve only managed to salvage a small fraction of the harvest, but this week resembled a more normal schedule. Which meant that both Anton and Cary—plus the rest of the Hayes crew—were full steam ahead to pick, wash, inspect, measure, and ship out as many peaches as they could.

The coolness of the A/C hits me, sending a shiver down the backs of my bare legs. I don’t have time to react though, because Anton’s arm is around me half a second later, pulling me into him, the heat from his body chasing away the chill. He steals a kiss, the brief contact barely enough, leaving me wanting more.

“Says the girl who every time I looked, or called, or asked my parents where she was, was told she was in the lab…” he teases, poking my side.

Guilty…

I pull my lips into my mouth, not bothering to hide my guilt. It was a busy week all around.

“The numbers are looking really strong, if could we just⁠—”

He cuts me off with a kiss. A sweet, glorious kiss that I can feel everywhere. Everywhere. One that leaves my whole body aching for more of him. All of him. His lips are the perfect combination of soft and strong, and his hands hold me in all the right places. And if he continues like this, I’m going to forget how to breathe. I’m also going to forget what I was talking about.

Actually, I might have already done that.

"You were saying?" he asks, smirking like he knows exactly what he just did. Because he so knows what he just did.

"I have no idea…"

Tightening his grip on me, he kisses the tip of my nose. A soft, sweet gesture that makes my insides settle. Eliza’s insights are starting to make a little more sense now.

“Want to see the house?”

I nod, looking around the small entryway. I wasn’t sure what to expect when I rolled up to the single level, yellow farmhouse—complete with a classic Southern covered front porch—surrounded by peanut fields, just as Anton had said. Maintaining its historic charm on the exterior, the interior has clearly been updated.

“Anton House is small, as far as old Southern farmhouses go. It was originally four bedrooms, dining room, sitting room, and an outhouse,” he says, drawing me farther in. We pass an office off to the right side, opposite two bedrooms and a bathroom, then into a great room that melds living area, kitchen, and eating area, with a massive window that overlooks a large, covered deck and rolling meadow. “Over the years she’s seen a couple of different configurations thanks to some new inventions—i.e. indoor plumbing.”

“Big deal, that.”

“Yes.” He nods, slipping his hand in mine, leading me through the living area. A rounded bar-counter with stools marks off the kitchen area, with a dark wood square dining table adjacent to it, closer to the window. “There’s a mudroom through the kitchen, and then over on the other side of the living room is the owner’s suite.”

“It’s…” I pause, trying to find the right word.

There’s only one that comes to mind though—comfortable.

Anton has the place decorated in soft earth tones, mixed in with warm, dark wood furniture. His overstuffed couch and chair look like they could swallow you whole, and there is a part of me that is dying to let it. Everything matches, but in a way that is subtle and pleasing, and not matchy-matchy or over the top. It’s just enough to make you feel at home.

“It’s what?”

“Would you be weirded out if I said perfect?”

One side of his smile lifts, making my skin prickle. “Nope.”

My tummy somersaults, not knowing how to react that he’s not taken aback by that answer. Or that he’s not saying anything else. Just standing here staring at me. Smiling.

Shit. I should do something.

I…I…I…