Page 30 of Nashville Lights

“I’ll make a plate for you. You said yourself they’re locusts, Ma. It’ll all be gone.”

Betty-Ann shrugs. “Well, they’re working hard, they need the fuel. And I want to encourage them. They’re doing a good job out there. Dakota, I made a batch of lemonade that’s chilling in the fridge. Would you take it out to them and tell them lunch is ready?”

“Sure, Ma. You want to come, Rox? Or do you want to stay for more grilling and matchmaking suggestions?”

“I love you all,” I tell them, getting up and taking my plate to the counter. “And thank you for that wonderful meal. But if I eat another bite I will literally burst.”

“Don’t you dare do any dishes, Roxanne Savannah,” Betty-Ann scolds me. “You’re on vacation.”

“I can put one plate in the dishwasher.” But she’s already taking it from my hands.

“Do as your aunt tells you.”

“I thought you said you weren’t her aunt,” Earl says.

“Oh, be quiet, you old geezer,” Betty-Ann says, with love.

I grab some glasses to put on the tray Dakota is setting up with the large pitcher of fresh-squeezed lemonade and some of the still-warm buttered biscuits.

“See y’all soon.”

I open the screen door for Dee and we walk out onto the porch, making our way toward the barn. Beyond it, the harvester is bringing in the baled hay, load by load. I can see Luke, Leo and Nate at the far side of the barn. The barn doors are open wide and the brothers are stacking the bales in the barn.

Shirtless.

We get closer and the sun is beating down in golden, dusty beams, directly onto the three of them, like God wants to showcase his masterpieces in perfect, luminous light.

Whoa.

The gangly boys I once knew are now big, muscular, sweaty men. I’m pretty sure every girl in Tennessee would pay good money to watch the Boone brothers throwing hay bales around in the hot sun.

The twins are gorgeous and they know it. They’re young, cocky show-offs.

But it’s not the twins I’m looking at.

Nate Boone’s lean, boyish frame has filled out into a god-like specimen of full-blown freaking manhood. He’s got the physique of a hard-working farmhand who must also work out. His muscles are taut and defined, glistening with sweat, rippling as he lifts the hay bales and tosses them to Luke to stack onto the mountainous pile.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

I used to gaze at him when I was a girl, knowing for a fact I had never seen a more beautiful human being. He was perfectly made even then.

But now, he’s more than just beautiful.

He’s hot as fuck.

And this is more than fascination. It’s a deeply-buried craving that opens a flood gate inside me, surging through my bloodstream.

I want him.

He’s the one I waited for.

I stand there, transfixed by the way his abs flex and quilt as he picks up a hay bale, the sculpted strength of his muscled, suntanned arms, the way the bright sunlightreflects off his too-long dark hair, tinting it shiny shades of red and gold.

Holy Dream Come True, Batman. He’s perfect.

He looks up.

And then he smiles. That old crooked smile I remember so well. Like he can’t help himself. Almost like he’s…happy to see me.

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