Page 3 of The Texas Hero's Homecoming

“No. No I haven’t.”

“Well, Autumn’s a fine cook and we’ve got enough beef tamales to feed all of Last Stand. You’ll join us?”

Autumn’s fists landed on her hips. The fire in her eyes something to see, even if it was aimed at him. “Papa, he’s probably got other plans.”

“Nope, don’t have any other plans. Thank you very much for the invitation.” He tipped his hat.

Autumn heaved a sigh and spun around.

She wasn’t having a good day. And he was truly sorry about that, but he had a mission to accomplish here. He had to find out more about the farm. He had to see if there was a way to save three generations of hard work and toil, from going under.

Whether pretty, fiery, Autumn Messina wanted him here or not.

*

Autumn stood overthe oven, stalling for time, fussing with tamales that were more than ready to bring to the kitchen table. She had trouble looking into Sam Russell’s amazing blue eyes. They always seemed to dance whenever she was around him, winking at her, suggesting she was something special. That look, those eyes, and the blond hair begging to grow in from his military cut, made her stomach ache. He was still handsome. More so. He was older, had the look of a man who’d seen ugliness in the world. A man who’d come out the other side. When she was a kid, Sam could wrap her around his finger without even knowing it. A kind word, a compliment from him had her following him around like a little puppy. Her crush lasted for years, and that one night they’d shared in the barn, had her thinking it was all worth it. Had her believing he’d felt that overwhelming rush of emotion too. He was worth all the secret anguish she’d endured trying to get him to look at her, not as Joe’s kid sister, not as a child, but as a woman who wanted him.

And then he’d left. Taking her brother with him. Shattering her dreams. She squeezed her eyes closed and counted to three. She’d had this conversation in her head a hundred times. She was tired of it. She’d moved on. Finally. She’d worked the farm all those long years, doing her best to keep her father’s health from declining and running the farm with a small staff, while earning a degree in education.

“Those tamales aren’t going to get any more done,” Papa said in his kindest voice from his seat at the head of the table.

And then Sam was beside her, picking up a bowl of rice. “Can I help?’ he asked in a quiet whisper.

“Looks like you already are.” Damn, she shouldn’t have snapped at him.

It was beyond rude. It was just that… Sam had that effect on her. He made her dizzy. He always had. It boggled her mind that he still did.

“Smells delicious. Looks even better.”

His compliment didn’t nudge her into a better mood. She wasn’t seventeen anymore. “You always loved tamales.”

“I always lovedyourtamales. And here I am, eating them again with your family.”

She gazed into his eyes, seeing the sparkle, the clear blue that could melt a girl right on the spot.

She bit her lip to keep from thanking him. “Well, then we should eat. Before they get cold.”

“That’s a good idea,” Papa said.

With Sam’s help, they brought the meal to the table. She grabbed a pitcher of lemonade out of the fridge and poured each of them a glass. Sam waited for her to sit, before he did. She shook her head. Whether military or Southern manners, it was an archaic gesture that she secretly enjoyed. She wouldn’t admit that aloud. Not in this day and age. Yet, her brother Joe and Papa, were also culprits in the manners department. So, she couldn’t argue the point.

“Your turn to say grace, Autumn,” Papa said, bowing his head.

Sam had been a part of this ritual in her family too, so it seemed natural when he put his head down.

“Dear Lord, thank you for the abundance of food on the table. May you keep Joe and S—, uh, keep all the soldiers safe who are serving our country. Give them strength as you watch over each and every one of them. And please, may you keep watch over our family too. Thank you, dear Lord, for your kindness and grace. Amen.”

She passed along the dish of tamales to Sam. Their fingers touched and heat rose up her neck, his intense stare unwavering. Yes, they’d prayed for him too, every night before dinner. Sam’s smug expression changed to one of astonishment and gratitude. The reflection in his eyes not to be missed. She shrugged and pointed to the food. “Are you gonna eat?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Thanks.” He dished up a few tamales covered in cheese and passed along the dish to Papa. But his gaze returned to her again, his eyes a heat factory, melting her bones. Why couldn’t he just go away?

The three of them were quiet for a time, digging into the food. Her papa liked to fill his tummy full before starting conversation. Sam understood that as well.

Once the tamales were gobbled up, she rose grabbing for the empty plates. Sam rose too and she shook him off. “No thanks. I can manage,” she told him.

He lowered down and pursed his lips.

Good. Maybe he’d get the message and leave.

---