“What time is dinner?” I ask.
I can hear him grin through the phone. “I can meet you later tonight, or if you’d rather, I can make an hour or so in my schedule this afternoon for lunch?”
“I need to finish this paper I started earlier, but I work at four. Can you make it at one o’clock?”
“I can make it twelve or one or six if that means you’ll come.”
I smile like a loon. “At the Farm?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be there at one. See you then.”
I hang up the phone and head to my closet to find something to wear.
Alison
THE WHEELS OF THE CAR crunch the gravel of the driveway. My heart rate picks up as I reach the end and flip the engine off.
Troy comes around the corner of the Farm and I give him a tight smile as I climb out.
“Are you okay, Ms. Baker?”
“I’m fine,” I say, nervously.
I am fine, just excited and nervous and ready to puke.
“I met Mr. Landry through his brother Ford. Have you met Ford?”
I shake my head, wondering why it matters to me how he knows Barrett.
“Ford and I were in the military together. Ford still is in the Marines, actually. Anyway, I opted out after a tour of duty overseas.” He leads me towards the front of the house, his pace decidedly slow. “We saw some action over there, and let’s just say it messed with me for awhile when I got home. I was pretty down and out, burned about every bridge I had ever built. And you know what?”
He stops in his tracks and looks at me, his grey eyes warm.
“Barrett was the only person that didn’t turn their back on me. I’d only met him twice before when I came around looking for Ford—I’d heard he was on furlough. I was a mess,” he grins. “And Barrett pulled me aside and helped me get cleaned up. He gave me a chance in his security detail.” His jaw stiffens, his eyes narrowing. “I know you don’t know him, and he may not like me even talking to you, and come to think of it, I’m not sure why I am other than I see a look of apprehension on your face. But trust me when I say, he’s the best man I’ve ever known.”
It does make me feel better, but it’s not something I didn’t already know. Barrett is a good man; I knew that from the moment he found me with Mr. Pickner. My nerves aren’t from that. They’re from just how good he might really be.
A fluffy yellow dog comes barreling towards us, his tongue sticking out of his mouth, from the other side of the house.
“Trigger, stop,” Troy commands. The dog sits without hesitation.
“Wow. He’s well trained,” I comment, following him to the steps.
“Of course he is. Ford wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Troy steps to the side as the front door sweeps open. “I’ll see you later. Enjoy.” And he’s gone.
I barely notice Troy’s departure because my eyes are glued to Barrett. He leans against the frame, one arm stretched overhead, a playful smile on his face. The edge of his white dress shirt lifts just enough to show a sliver of tanned and toned skin between it and the top of his jeans.
I should go towards him, say hello, but it takes a second to become acclimated to him—to the energy that rolls off of him in waves.
“Good afternoon,” he drawls. His voice is a mixture of sweet and simple, honeyed and complicated. It makes me go weak when I need to be strong. Taking a deep breath and gathering myself, I try to keep my hormones in check.
“Hey,” I finally reply, much to his amusement. His lips twist together in a cheeky grin as he pushes away from the door.
“Thank you for coming all the way out here.”