Serenity Falls(21)

“Do you need help with anything else?” I feel like I should be contributing more than just making orange juice.

“Nope. I think I’m all set. It’s ready, so y’all just help yourselves while I go and get that husband of mine from the barn.” She unties her apron from around her neck and waist, hanging it on a hook, and heads out of the kitchen.

Just as I turn around to pick my plate up off the table, I run into a hard, solid chest. Wes’ chest. The plate in my hands slips from grasp, but with cat-like reflexes, Wes catches it right before it hits the floor. Shocked and wide eyed, I look up to apologize. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t see… You were just over… And then you were…” I shut my eyes tightly and take a deep breath as I try to gain my composure.

“It’s fine.”

Slowly, my eyes open and I meet blue ones staring back at me.

“It’s fine,” he says again, softer this time. “Here, you might need this.” Wes hands me the plate back.

“Thank you,” I whisper, trying my hardest not to meet his impenetrable stare. When he notices that I won’t meet his gaze, he steps back, and lets me pass by.

I take a minute to collect myself before I turn and watch Wes pile food on his plate. “Are you mad at me?” he asks.

“Why would I be mad at you?” I’m confused. I don’t know why he would think I’d be mad. He caught my plate before it hit the floor.

“For earlier. For walking in on you in the shower.”

Oh yes, the shower incident. “Honestly. No. I’m not mad at you.”

“Really?” He spins around with his eyebrows almost reaching his hairline.

His expression is so cute that I can’t help but laugh. “Really. As much as I want to be mad at you, I can’t. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not giving you permission to keep on barging in on me in the shower or anything, but I realize that you were just trying to be nice. I didn’t stop to look if there were towels in the cabinet, which I should have. So, in a weird sort of way, thank you.”

“Anytime.” He leans against the counter next to the stove, and nibbles on a piece of bacon.

I walk up, poke him in the chest, and as I try not to laugh as I tell him that he needs to knock before just helping himself to occupied bathrooms.

With a chuckle of his own, he reaches down and catches my finger. “The next time you wanna poke my chest, just ask. I don’t hold reservations about pretty women touching me.”

At the same time, our eyes trail down to my finger still firmly pressed against his chest. With a gasp, I quickly pull my hand away as if I’d just stuck it on a hot stove. “I bet you don’t,” I reply evenly. I don’t know why I care, but I do. I don’t really like the thought of him letting other women touch him. Swallowing my bitterness at the thought, I look over at the stove.

“Holy crap! Your mom cooked for an army,” I say, taking in the amount of food she’s prepared. Scrambled eggs, biscuits and gravy, bacon, sausage, ham, and fresh fruit litter the stove and surrounding counter tops.

“Mom doesn’t know how to cook for just a few people. But you should know this since you were here last summer.”

“Well, last summer, I stayed in the volunteer quarters, so I never saw breakfast prepared as soon as it was done.” I load a little bit of everything onto my plate. I haven’t eaten this well since Christmas, and that’s when I was home with Aunt Brenda.

“Did you come here early like you did this year?” he asks.

“No. I came at the same time as every other volunteer. Your parents saw how well I got along with the horses and asked if I would consider coming again this summer, and if I’d come early to help get everything in order before the kids got here. It was an offer I couldn’t refuse.” I shrug as if it’s not a big deal, because to me, it’s not. There’s no place else that I’d rather be.

After setting my plate down and pouring some orange juice, I take a seat at the table. Wes fills the seat on the other side of me, looks at me closely, and asks curiously, “You really like being here, huh?”

Right before I can answer, the screen door swings open with Will, Sandy, and Brantley in tow. “Breakfast is all done. Go ahead and help yourself, Brantley,” Sandy says, then turns her attention to her husband. “Go take a seat while I make our plates and pour us some juice.” She kisses her husband sweetly on his lips. I duck my head, feeling awkward by their public display of affection.

“So? What’s the plan for today, kids?” Will asks, taking a seat at the head of the table.