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“Did you make it?” I could hear his blinker in the background.

“Yes . . . ” I drew it out. Why did that matter?

“Can’t blame ’em! It had to be last meal worthy,” he exclaimed.

“Last meal?” I asked, making my way back to my desk.

“Ya know, like the last meal on death row,” he explained as if he had considered this many times.

“Okay. Why do I get the feeling you’ve spent a lot of time contemplating this and know exactly what you’d want?” I could hear his blinker again in the background.

“You haven’t?!” His outrage made me smile.

“Uh, no. I don’t plan on being on death row.”

“Chicken fried steak, homemade mashed potatoes and gravy, peach iced tea, those little pieces of cake in the refrigerator section at gas stations, and a piece of your cheesecake,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“Should I be concerned that you listed my cheesecake in the same sentence as gas station cake? I’m not even sure I know what you’re talking about.”

“Prettttty girllllll.” He drew out his name for me as though it was the saddest news he’d ever heard. “We need to fix that,” he added, and I smiled at his exasperated tone.

“I suppose I could be persuaded,” I conceded.

“I’m here to persuade. Pulling into the parking lot now.” His confidence was incredibly hot.

“I’ll be right out.” I ended the call and made my way out the doors.

Soren was in his signature dark jeans and brown, square-toe boots with a slate blue flannel shirt that had a Carhartt light brown vest over the top. If “masculine” had a photo in the dictionary, it’d be him. His long legs ate up the asphalt as we met in the parking lot. He smiled that soft smile that was fully him, and I resisted the urge to touch him. There was something about him that made me want to be near him. It was foreign and strange and warm all at the same time.

“Ready?” he asked, tipping his head toward his truck. I almost wished he’d hug me again, but after that awkward exchange with the flat tire I thought that was unlikely. It was the weighty elephant in the room. But I smiled and shoved the elephant back under the rug, where I preferred to keep all of my elephants.

“Yep.” He waved an arm toward his truck, as if it was a chariot, and opened my door. I climbed in, which was always a feat because of the height. He grabbed my seat belt strap as he had on the first day we met and buckled it. His body never touched mine, but heat flushed through my body like a wildfire. His eyes caught mine and conveyed things I didn’t understand, but I wanted to as he leaned back to close the door. He rounded the hood, and I took the opportunity to take a deep breath to steady my heart that raced anytime he was near.

We settled on a local café that sold specialty sandwiches because apparently down the street was a gas station that held the “last meal” refrigerator sliced cake. Soren insisted we go there after lunch. I ordered a sandwich labeled a Memphis Club while Soren chose a spicy sandwich labeled The New Orleans Club. The teenager at the counter with the side swept bangs mumbled he’d bring us our meals once they were prepared. Soren guided me through the tables. He never touched me, but I could sense the heat from his body when we walked closely together. I sat on one side of a tan leather booth while Soren sat on the other.

“Do you really have a lunch thief?” Soren asked.

“Yes! I know who it is, but I don’t know why.” I pondered it still.

“If your cheesecake and cookies are any indication of how great your lasagna is, then I pity the poor soul who has to work with you knowing what’s in your lunch box.” He slowly shook his head from side to side.

“Pity the soul? What about my hungry soul when I see that my lunch is gone?!” Soren let out a laugh, and I had to roll my lips together not to beam at our lighthearted exchange. He made me relaxed simply with his presence. The darkness that usually crept in as a thick fog when I tried, and often failed, to connect with new people felt distant now. It was as if being in his light fought off my darkness, and I felt less alone. My ability to connect with him reminded me of Abel. There was something about these Roberts boys that made them extra special. They starved the darkness away, and only left me with remembrances of light.

Chapter

Twenty-Four

Soren

Was it possible to get drunk off a person? I was quickly becoming addicted to being in the presence of Sawyer Brannan. Sure, she was breathtakingly beautiful, but it wasn’t simply her beauty that drew me in. She had this almost fragile softness that made me want to protect her, but she also held a strength unlike anyone I had ever met. I wanted to be her safe place so that she could shine.

When I met her, I didn’t know her story, but ever since that talk on my front porch, this fierce protectiveness made me feel like a damn fool when it came to her. She wasn’t even mine. I barely knew her, and somehow I knew deep in my core I’d do whatever it took to protect her at all costs. There was a string connected to me, and she held the other end. I was but a fool under the magic of her spell, and I never wanted to be anywhere else. After we ate our sandwiches, we loaded up in my truck to hit up the Mason’s across the street. The gas station chain always carried Mama Kathy’s slices of cold cake, and I had to correct the disservice of her having never tasted one. We went in, and she giggled as we collected three types of cake to taste, along with two bottles of water to cleanse our palettes in between each taste test. We loaded back up in the truck, and I ceremoniously opened the waxed butcher paper that contained the first slice of cake. Her eyes sparkled as I exaggerated the process.

“First up, we have the delectable white chocolate raspberry.” I broke off a small piece and held it to her mouth. Her eyes widened and after briefly and shyly meeting my eyes, she opened her mouth. I wasn’t prepared for the fire that shot through my body as her plump, soft bottom lip grazed my thumb. Her face lit up as she tasted the cake, as if she hadn’t been struck by the same lighting I had. She nodded her head as she finished chewing and swallowed.

“Okay, okay. Not bad, Cowboy.”

“Cowboy, huh? Next, we have a milk chocolate fudge cake with white frosting.” I held out a piece, questioning my sanity as I repeated the process. This time, her lip didn’t touch me. My erratic heartbeat couldn’t take that again if we were only going to be friends. Although, I knew I was pushing the boundaries of friends every moment I could. Her eyes lit up as she chewed this bite.