Page 71 of Already Callin’ You Mine

17

JACE

“Mind if we join you?”

All three women at the round table in the corner of the cafeteria jump, heads whipping up to look at Anton and me. Personally, I didn’t think we had been all that ninja-like—or hell, even remotely subtle—as we approached them, but Presley, Margeaux, and Sawyer were so engrossed in their own conversation they didn’t see us coming.

“What are y’all doin’ here?” Sawyer asks, her question sounding very much like an accusation.

Anton doesn’t seem fazed, rounding the table and sliding into the open seat next to her, wasting no time in giving his fiancée a kiss.

“Munch was canceled,” he answers, keeping his arm draped around Sawyer. “And we gotta eat.”

“Canceled?” Margeaux questions, just as perplexed as the rest of us, looking between my older brother and me, waiting for us to explain. “So, where’s Gus?”

I nod to the chair in front of me, giving Presley a warm smile, silently repeating my question. She nods her head yes, a blush taking over her cheeks as her pretty lips morph into a shy smile.

There’s no reason for her to be shy now. She certainly wasn’t this past weekend. Saturday afternoon was the only chance we got for a “grown-up nap”—as my siblings and I like to call it rather than admitting that is what our parents still get up to—only helping to build that growing desire between us. The one we both had to ignore as Otis demanded our attention, even if all we were doing was watching a movie.

Playing house with her this weekend was everything. My intention hadn’t been to spend the whole two days there, but something about the way she fell asleep on my chest after Otis went to bed made me feel like leaving was wrong. Like where I belonged was right there, with them. Sunday morning pancakes sealed that feeling.

Those might need to be a new tradition…

“Off with Auggie, handling whatever the emergency was,” Anton says. “We didn’t get much more than that—just an email saying that Munch was canceled because something came up that he and Auggie had to handle.”

In all my years working for this company, I don’t know that Munch has ever been canceled. Not outright anyhow. We’ve had abbreviated versions—like when half of us got the flu one year—or meetings where Gus had run it because our father was out of town. We’ve even taken it offsite because Miss Harriett was on vacation and whoever filled in for her burned the chicken. But it’s never been canceled.

So, whatever this situation is, it must be serious.

“Uh-oh,” Margeaux mutters, pulling out her phone and furiously tapping against it.

I ignore her, the brunette beauty to my right stealing all my attention. The urge to kiss her rises in me, clawing its way to the top of my to-do list, but I manage to hold back. Somehow. We are at work after all.

“Hey,” I whisper, nudging Presley with my shoulder.

“Hay is for horses,” she retorts.

“And grass is for cows.” My response is instinctive, reflexive even, despite the fact that I don’t think I’ve heard that comeback in twenty years. I laugh, my heart feeling lighter instantly. “I haven’t heard that in forever.”

“My father said it once last summer and Otis just cracked up. So now he’ll walk around going hey, hey, hey, trying to get us to respond that way. I’m surprised he hasn’t done it to you.”

My soul lifts even more at the mention of Little Man, my attachment to him strong and steady. He’s an equal part in this equation, and I’m just as taken with him as I am his mama. Well, maybe I’m a little more taken with his mama. But he’s a close second.

“New goal to try and unlock.”

“I’m sure you’ll achieve it in record time.”

Presley winks, her blue-gray eyes sparkling like diamonds. Holding back is still the right thing to do, but it also might mean the end of me. I’ve stolen kisses in significantly more public settings than the Hayes cafeteria, but there is something about being at this table, with my sisters-in-law, that tells me I need to respect the line.

That something being that I’m secretly afraid they’ll kick my ass. My brothers? Eh. But their women? I’m not messing with those powerhouses. They’ve banded together to form a mini army that would have sent Sherman straight for hills, screaming for his mommy. And clearly, they’ve taken to Presley, including her in their the boys are at Munch lunch plans.

A fact that really excites me. It also tells me that I need to watch it, because they will side with her without thinking twice if I step out of line.

“So, whatcha talkin’ about?” Anton steals a fry off Sawyer’s plate and she slaps his hand, giving him a look that tells him to get his own. “Us?”

“No,” all three of them respond, almost in unison.

Wow…