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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.
