Page 13 of Tara's Warriors

Thankful for a job that kept her mind on the present instead of worrying about the future, Tara hefted the heavy tray filled with food and wound her way through the tables, wayward elbows, and chairs decorated with faded, floral and plaid seats. She’d tried for years to get her Aunt Jean to update the decor, but she insisted it was perfect the way it was. Tara personally thought it looked like an old lady’s basement, but Uncle Rob had sided with Aunt Jean—because he was cheap and didn’t want to spend money on new floors and booths.

By around twelve-thirty, the breakfast crowd finally slowed, and she could take a breath. In their small town, almost everyone went to church, and she could time out when various services ended. Thankfully, the Baptists and the Protestant church’s hours were staggered, so that helped keep the diner from getting overwhelmed. As she said goodbye to an elderly couple who always tipped ten percent, no matter what, she blew out another tired breath and pressed her fists into her lower back. The silky fabric of her red blouse slid easily over her skin as she arched her back. One good thing about being a manager was she didn’t have to wear the blue polyester dresses and pink aprons the servers wore.

The bell over the door rang, and she glanced up from placing new silverware at one of the tables.

Her heart and otherlowerparts of her anatomy gave a hard throb as she took in the handsome young man being greeted by the drooling hostess, a sweet high school girl who looked like she was about to faint.

Tara couldn’t blame her. The man was stunning. Tall, with thick shoulders and deliciously cut arms he stood out from the crowd like a lion among sheep. He had long, black hair done up in a tight braid that exposed cut cheekbones and a jawline to die for. His skin was a golden tan color and his eyes were a beautiful, crystal clear teal blue that seemed to glow in his handsome face.

Tearing her gaze away from him, Tara let out a little internal sigh as she scolded herself over ogling a hot guy at least twenty years her junior.

Maybe she should give dating a try again.

Snorting to herself as she grabbed up the wash bin full of silverware rolled in napkins, she made her way to the next table. Since her husband passed away, she hadn’t been celibate, but she’d sure had her share of dry spells. Between raising first her daughter and now her granddaughter, helping her Aunt and Uncle run their truck stop restaurant—of which she was a partial owner—and being active in her community, she didn’t really have time for dating. Plus, the pickings in her hometown were beyond slim. They were downright pitiful.

The last guy she’d seriously dated three years ago had broken up with her because they never saw each other. Guilt hit her as she wondered, once again, if she could have given up one of her millions of jobs and obligations to spend more time with him. But what could she have cut out?

She could have probably given up her Tuesday night ballroom dance class, but she couldn’t let her dance partner down. Her Uncle Rob loved to dance, and with Aunt Jean out of commission, he didn’t have a partner anymore. At sixty-seven, Uncle Rob wasn’t as spry as he used to be, but he seemed to come to life while dancing. They had a great time together, and she enjoyed the chance to put on a pretty dress and have fun.

So no, she couldn’t quit her dance lessons, either.

As she moved to one of the booths with her now half-full bucket of wrapped silverware, she became aware of something…delicious.

A warm, masculine scent that seemed to trace over her skin like lightly skimming fingers.

Goosebumps broke out all over her arms, and the strangest tingle fluttered through her belly.

Not an unpleasant sensation, but certainly unusual.

Lifting the bucket of silverware again, she turned and let out a screech, almost dropping it as she stared up at the enormous young man standing way too close to her.

His lovely green-blue eyes, the color of a tropical bay, widened as he moved quickly and caught her bucket before it fell to the ground.

Holding her hand to her racing heart, she took an unsteady step back, literally overwhelmed by this man’s sheer presence. Masculine energy seemed to radiate from him, awakening every single nerve in her body at once. Chills raced down the back of her neck as she continued to gape at him. He really was too prefect to be real. His skin was a gorgeous deep, golden tan that, combined with his black hair and bold features, made her think of a young Antonio Banderas. Both had that smoldering gaze thing down pat.

Standing there, holding the banged up gray plastic silverware bucket, he still managed to put enough heat into his gaze to melt her panties.

Good Lord, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this aroused simply standing in a man’s presence.

A veryyoungman’s presence.

“Forgive me, please,” he said, his heavily accented voice so deep and…somehow resonating that she swore her heart quivered. “I did not mean to alarm you. Are you well? Do you need a…what is the word? A medical practice?”

Realizing the entire restaurant watched them like they were a super entertaining show on TV, she flushed hard and waved her hand with a forced laugh. “No, you’re fine. I was day dreamin’. Here, let me take that from you.”

She went to grasp the bucket, but accidently brushed her fingers over his instead. Lightning zipped from her fingertips to her breast and pussy, each already sensitive and throbbing. The smoldering look on his face intensified, and she swore more than one woman gasped somewhere behind her. Tara could understand their reaction. If she could breathe, she’d be joining them. As it was, it took all her concentration to remain standing as the man slowly, ever so slowly, gave her a smile that promised some really deliciously, dirty things.

“It is my privilege to meet you, Tara.”

The rolling rs he gave her name turned it into a decadent purr.

Trying to keep herself under control and not make a spectacle of herself for a town that loved to gossip, she plastered on a smile and said, “Do I know you?”

“Not yet, but you will once we go out on a date.” He flashed his white teeth at her again with a smile.

One of the old biddies that her grandmother quilted with let out a little murmur of disapproval, and Tara gave herself a mental slap. What the hell was she doing flirting with a young man half her age, making a fool of herself in front of God and country?

Taking the bucket more firmly, she pulled it away from him with a smile. “Flattering, but no thank you. Have a nice day.”

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