Page 70 of Trip Through Your Wires

“Am I dreaming?” he asks with a yawn.

I let out a dry laugh. “If your dreams bring you to Georgia, Hot Shot, then you need to aim bigger.”

“Hot Shot, huh.” He scrubs a hand down his face then pushes up, swinging his legs over the side of the couch and sitting upright. “I can’t believe I fell asleep.”

“Sure did,” I nod. “Missed the end of Murder She Wrote, too. Spoiler, she solved the mystery.”

He lets out a small laugh. “Atta girl, Ms. Fletcher.”

“Are you hungry?” I shove both hands in the back pockets of my cutoffs. “Nana and I already ate, but there is plenty.”

“Yeah,” he rubs his stomach. “Ellery dragged me out of bed before I could eat dinner last night, and the last thing I had in my stomach was airport coffee.”

“Well, come on.” I nod toward the kitchen. “I’ve got chicken, dumplings, cornbread and steamed broccoli. If you have room left after that, you can have some of Nana’s cobbler. It’s the best in four counties.”

“I bet it is.” He yawns and then smiles while looking out the window. “Man, I can’t believe I slept that long.”

While his head is turned, my eyes drift down his back and over his shoulders. Damn, he looks good.

“Washroom is there if you want to shower before,” I point to the hall when he turns back around and finds me staring. “I put out clean towels and a fresh bar of soap. Dinner will take a few minutes to heat it up so you have time to shower if you want.”

He lifts his arm and sniffs. “Do I smell like an airport?”

“No,” I snort.

His eyes drag down my body and when they drift slowly back up and meet mine, he flashes me that sexy, million dollar smile of his. “Shower sounds good.”

I clear my throat, ignoring the hint of suggestion, and hike my thumb toward the kitchen. “I’ll heat the food now. Take your time.”

He nods and pushes up from the couch, looking around with an expression on his face I can’t quite read, before making his way to the bathroom.

***

I’m standing at the stove with my back to the living room when Jake comes up behind me. “I smell like you now,” he says huskily, his voice smooth like caramel.

I turn around and see he’s back in his jeans and a T-shirt, but not wearing shoes or socks and his hair is slicked back. He looks effortlessly hot and comfortable in a way that makes my chest tighten.

“Why don’t you go outside,” I swallow down the heat in my cheeks, “and I’ll bring everything outside.”

“Outside?” he flicks his eyes to the kitchen window.

“It’s a nice night. Thought you could have dinner on the back porch.”

“Oh,” he grins and turns his attention back to me. “Sounds good. Can I get help with anything?”

“Sure.” I nod to the pitcher of tea and glasses on the counter. “Why don’t you pour us both a glass.”

“Aye aye,” he says with a salute.

When I am done fixing his plate, I grab a mat and silverware in one hand and the plate in the other then push the door open with my butt. “After you.”

He steps through the back door and when he steps out on the porch his mouth falls open. “Oh, wow.”

“What?” I ask nervously while setting the mat down, then the plate and silverware.

“It’s beautiful,” he marvels, setting down the pitcher and glasses, before turning to take a better look.

“Thank you,” my heart swells with pride. While Papa’s peach trees lined the acres leading up the house, the property behind the house was Nana’s and she used it for blueberries. The floral buds are starting to swell, and sway gently in the night.

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