Page 39 of Bullets and Dandelions

The Humvees pulled to a stop by the mess hall, and everyone got out.

I chewed on my lower lip. Without the proper credentials, I wouldn’t be able to eat. I needed to find Stone and the guys.

“Reynolds, get your ass over here,” Sergeant Harold yelled.

I walked over to him. “I don’t have a basic allowance card, sir.”

“Don’t worry about. Get in line. I’m paying.”

“Thank you, sir.” The smell was heavenly. I wiped the drool off my chin. So much food, so little time. It wouldn’t be long before Stone sent one of the guys to look for me. Grabbing a plate, I filled it with fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy and biscuits. I took a seat next to Whitson.

“That’s a lot of food for a little girl.”

A hand plucked my plate off the table. “Yes, it is,” Tex said.

“But I need to gain some weight.”

“Not like this.” Tex placed a plate in front of me that was filled with vegetables and grilled fish.

“Aw, c’mon.”

“You can have chocolate cake for dessert.” Tex replaced my bottle of beer with water.

“Fine.”

Tex sat down next to me and ate my fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, and biscuits.

The bastard was also drinking my beer. I took a bite of the fish. Hmm, pretty good. “How are the guys doing?”

“Good.”

“That’s it?”

“We have a meeting with General Masters in two hours. Eat up.”

Boy, did I have a lot of questions to ask. “Okay.” I ate everything on my plate and realized I was sandwiched between the two men. “Can you scoot over a bit, Tex. I want to get my cake.”

He shifted his body.

I gave him the stink eye. “I might be skinny, but I’m not that skinny.”

He moved another inch.

“Seriously, dude.” I managed to squeeze out with my empty plate. I got back in line and eyed all the cakes. Hmm. Which one did I want? German Chocolate or Devil’s food or Black Forrest or pineapple upside-down cake? I got all of them and piled the plates on a tray.

Tex’s eyebrows shot up.

I gave him the stink eye. There was no way in hell, he was stealing my cakes. I sat down at an empty table and started eating.

Whitson and Tex moved to my table.

“You touch my cakes, and I’ll stab you with my fork,” I warned.

Whitson roared with laughter. “I believe her.”

Tex nodded. “She’s not as cute and cuddly as she looks.”

“The apple pie is my favorite,” Whitson said.

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