Home To Wickham Falls. Rochelle Alers
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behind his nephews. There was something in the way he stared at her that made her slightly uncomfortable—but not in a bad way. His gaze lingered on her face before slowly moving lower and coming back to meet her eyes.
She smiled at her former students.
“Hello, Dylan.” She glanced over at his brother. “How are you, Colin?”
Colin lowered his eyes. “Good.”
Her gaze met and fused with Sawyer’s penetrating indigo-blue eyes. “Good afternoon, Sawyer.” There was a charming roughness about him she found appealing. A lean jaw and strong chin that accentuated a pair of high cheekbones made for an arresting face. She also noticed red streaks in his shoulder-length dark brown hair.
Why, she wondered, did she sound so breathless? Maybe it had something to do with the number of times Rachel had talked about her brother. Jessica had to admit he was good-looking, but his looks definitely weren’t enough to make her heart beat a little too quickly. Although she liked men, she had a problem trusting them.
Sawyer inclined his head, a hint of a smile tugging at one corner of his firm mouth. “Good afternoon, Jessica. Are you waiting for anyone?”
“No. Why?”
“If we sit together we’ll get seated faster than if you wait for a table for yourself.”
Jessica knew he was right. There were very few tables with seating for two. “Okay.”
She watched Sawyer walk to the front of the line to get the hostess’s attention, and then return and beckon for his nephews to move ahead of the others standing in line. Jessica went completely still when she felt Sawyer’s hand at the small of her back. Everything about him—his heat, the lingering scent of his aftershave and his touch seeped into her, bringing with it a quickening of her breathing. “Tricia has a table for us,” he said in her ear.
Holding on to Colin’s hand, Jessica steered him toward the hostess’s podium, ignoring the angry stares from those still waiting in line. Sawyer paid the prix fixe for two adults and two children. Seconds later a waiter directed them to a table in the middle of the restaurant.
She leaned close to Sawyer. “I’ll take Colin and help him select what he wants.”
“I’ll wait until you get back, then I’ll take Dylan.”
Sawyer sat at the table with Dylan, his gaze fixed on Jessica holding a plate as Colin pointed at what he wanted to eat. A pair of cropped stretch khaki slacks, foam-green blouse and black leather mules had replaced the sexy outfit she wore the night before. He found Jessica’s face mesmerizing, with or without makeup, and he forced himself not to stare at the curve of her hips in the body-hugging pants.
Dylan patted his uncle’s arm. “I’m hungry, Uncle Sawyer.”
He ruffled the boy’s hair. “As soon as Colin and Miss Calhoun come back it will be our turn to go up.”
“They’re taking too long.”
“Try and be patient, Dylan.”
“I can’t be patient when I’m hungry because my stomach is talking too loud.”
“You can tell your stomach to stop talking because they’re coming back now.”
Dylan popped up from his chair and raced over to the buffet counter. Sawyer winked at Jessica when she returned to the table with her plate and Colin’s. Sawyer helped Dylan make his selections, while he decided on chicken-fried steak with white gravy, mashed potatoes, fluffy biscuits and sweet tea. He was back in the South and the food on his tray made him feel as if he had really come home.
“I’ll go and get the drinks,” Jessica said as he set his plate on the table.
“We’ll go together. You need to let me know when you’re going to be home so I can return your picnic hamper,” he said as he filled two glasses with milk.
Jessica gave Sawyer a sidelong glance. “I don’t have to be home for you to bring it back. You can either leave it at the front door or on the patio.”
“And let coons or some other critter get into it?”
“You heard about that?”
“Yep. My mother said she has a problem with raccoons trying to get into the garbage bins. She claims she saw a few during the daylight hours, which means they’re probably rabid. Have you been bothered with them?”
“I haven’t seen any.” Jessica added a splash of cream in her coffee. “I keep Bootsy inside, and whenever I take him out I make certain to carry pepper spray.”
“You walk a cat?”
“Bootsy is a dog, not a cat.”
“Who ever heard of a dog named Bootsy? What happened to Bruno or even Bruiser?”
“He’s too small to be a Bruno or Bruiser.”
He wanted to tell Jessica he was only teasing. “I’m sorry,” he called out as she turned, heading back to their table.
“No, you’re not,” she said, not bothering to give him a backward glance.
He quickened his step. “Yes, I am. I apologize for insulting Bootsy.”
Dylan took the glass of milk from Sawyer. “Uncle Sawyer, you have to meet Bootsy. He’s a cool dog. Right, Colin?”
“Yep,” his twin agreed. “Can you please buy us a dog, Uncle Sawyer? We asked Momma but she said she doesn’t have the money.”
Jessica leaned closer to Sawyer, her shoulder touching his. “See what you’ve started?” she whispered.
He turned his head, his mouth only inches from Jessica’s. At that moment he wanted to kiss her. Not a long, lingering kiss but a mere brushing of lips. Time appeared to have stood still as he found himself caught in a maelstrom of hypnotic longing. He did not want to believe he was thinking of kissing his sister’s friend in a public place and in front of his nephews.
“We’ll talk about that later.”
“When later?” Dylan asked.
Sawyer stared at the boy. “I have to talk to your mother first. If she says yes, then we’ll contact a breeder and go look for a puppy.” He knew Rachel had the money to buy a dog, and suspected she didn’t want the responsibility of taking care of the animal once the excitement of having a pet faded for her sons.
“My dog is a rescue from a puppy mill.” Jessica peered at Sawyer over the rim of her coffee cup. “There are too many dogs in shelters waiting for good homes. And if they’re not adopted, then they’ll be put down. I’m seriously thinking of getting another rescue as a companion for Bootsy.”
Picking up his knife and fork, Sawyer cut into his steak. When he was his nephews’ age he had begged his mother for a dog and most times Mara had had to take care of his pet when he stayed for after-school sports.
“Can I go back for seconds?”
Colin’s question broke into Sawyer’s musing. “Take your brother with you. And this time try to put something green on your plate.” The two boys bolted from the table and dodged diners carrying plates overflowing with food. “How often do you come here?” he asked Jessica.
She touched her napkin to the corners of her mouth. “No more than once or twice a month. I really prefer cooking for myself.”
“That’s because you are an incredible cook. Who taught you?”
“My grandmother was an art teacher turned caterer and I used to watch her whenever she prepared for a party. What’s incredible is that she never had any professional training. Folks would ask for her recipes, but she refused, saying they were family secrets.”
“I guess that means you’re not going to tell me what seasonings you use on your chicken.”
Jessica