Chapter Six
Brett nervously wiped damp palms along the sides of his pants then jogged up the back steps into the kitchen of Magnolia Rose. A few of the staff lingered at the big oak table, sipping coffee and reading the Sunday newspaper.
Sunday was a free day for everyone, including the guests. They could dress in their most comfortable clothes, eat what they wanted, even spend the day fiddling with their laptops if they liked.
Ashley and Wade had discovered during the first few events they hosted that a solid month of living history, from the costumes and food to the customs, got tiring without breaks. While the guests enjoyed being immersed in life from the pre-war days, they also looked forward to the one day a week they could wear jeans and eat a hamburger, if they so chose.
Sundays became the days when the guests could let their hair down, both literally and figuratively. All but a handful of staff also had the day off to do as they wished.
The guests who stayed at Magnolia Rose could eat from the food prepared the previous day or had the option of making their own meals in the kitchen. Most of them preferred to jaunt into town, but those who didn’t often packed baskets with sandwiches or picnic fare and enjoyed a simple, quiet day on the grounds.
Brett smiled as Tara stepped into the kitchen wearing a sage green floral dress splashed with dusky roses. The colors brought out the vibrant hue of her eyes while accenting her pale skin.
When she noticed him lingering by the door, she headed his way.
“Good morning,” she said, greeting him with a bright smile.
He tipped his head to her wishing he could kiss her rosy cheek. “Mornin’, Tara. Would you like to attend the service here in the chapel or we could go into town and join my folks at church.”
“Oh, the chapel here would be great. It’s so quaint and lovely, don’t you think?” Tara led the way out the back door while Brett followed closely behind her.
What appeared lovely and quaint to him had nothing to do with the plantation’s refurbished chapel. It had everything to do with the sweet girl chatting about how glad she was the sun shined brightly overhead.
Gratitude filled him to see the sun making an appearance. The plans he had for the afternoon wouldn’t work well in a drizzle of rain. The weather report promised him sunshine and warm temperatures throughout the day, without a high humidity factor.
He should probably tell Tara to change before they left after the service, or at least let her know she could bring along casual clothes to wear. Yet, he remained silent. She looked so pretty in the flowery dress that skimmed her curves and floated around her knees, he rather liked the idea of seeing her in it all day.
Pinned up at the back of her head, her dark hair taunted him. She’d secured it in a loose style that allowed curls to fall around her face. His fingers itched to reach out and trace the path of one springy curl along her neck, but he somehow managed to refrain from indulging the desire. Instead, he lengthened his stride and fell into step beside her as they approached the chapel.
Painted white, a high spire with a cross on top of the building stood out against the backdrop of green fields. Stones gathered back before the plantation house was built created the three steps in front of the chapel.
Frosted glass panels bordered the big oak door that opened into the sanctuary. Oaken pews polished to a high shine welcomed visitors. Narrow windows along each side of the building flooded the space with light.
A hand-carved pulpit stood at the front of the building. This morning, a large bouquet of spring flowers sat on a small table in front of it, offering a cheery greeting.
“Oh, it’s so lovely,” Tara whispered, walking down the aisle and taking a seat on a pew in the middle of the chapel.
“Lovely,” Brett repeated, finding it hard to pull his gaze away from her face.
One of Wade’s friends, an ordained minister, led the service. Brett would have been in big trouble if anyone asked him to summarize what the man shared that morning. In spite of his best efforts, he remained too attuned to Tara’s every movement to pay attention to the pastor.
In fact, they were singing the second verse of the closing hymn when Tara nudged him in the side with her elbow. The look she gave him let him know he’d better pull his wits together. He hadn’t even noticed the pastor had finished the sermon.
After making their way outside and shaking hands with those who attended the service, Brett led Tara toward an enclosed structure where the staff parked their vehicles.
“Do I need to bring anything along?” she asked as they sauntered past the gardens and walked in the direction of the big barn.
“Nope. I think I’ve got everything.” Brett smiled at her and took her hand in his once they were out of sight of everyone at the chapel.
She shot him a skeptical glance. “Are you sure I can’t make lunch? It would only take me a moment to pack a picnic basket.”
Brett grinned and shook his head. “Today is your day to do nothing but enjoy.”
“Then that’s what I’ll do.” Her fingers laced with his and she tipped back her head, letting the sun warm her face. “It’s a perfect day, isn’t it?”
“So far, so good,” he said, leading her inside the parking structure that looked like a long, low barn from the three sides that guests might see. The fourth side was open and made it easy for staff to drive in and out of the building. At his pickup, he opened the passenger door, gave her a hand up, and then hurried around to the driver’s side.
As they drove down a lane that took them out to the road, Tara looked around with interest. In the two weeks that she’d been at Magnolia Rose, spring had settled in the area, bringing with it an explosion of bursting life. The magnolias and dogwoods bloomed, along with a variety of beautiful flowers. She recognized azaleas, rhododendrons and wisteria mingling with roses and a variety of flowering perennials. The air filled with the perfumed scent of spring while glorious colors and textures filled her view of the landscape. “I’m not sure there’s anyplace prettier than right here.”
Brett gave her a long, appreciative look, then tossed her a puckish wink. “I heartily agree.”
A blush covered her cheeks. She stared out the window, ignoring his teasing, as he pulled onto the road and headed in the opposite direction of town.
“Are you really taking me to see something named This or That?” Tara asked, wondering if he’d been kidding her all week.
“I really am. I think you’ll be surprised to meet them, but first, let’s enjoy a picnic lunch.” Brett turned off the road onto a lane flanked by green pastures as far as the eye could see. White fences ran along the road and stretched out for miles, keeping horses in their grassy confines.
“Oh,” Tara breathed, mesmerized by the sight of so many horses grazing. “Is this a horse farm?” She turned to him and pulled a silly face. “Stupid question, right? The fences, barns, and horses are sort of self-explanatory.”
Brett chuckled and parked in front of a barn that was almost as old as the plantation on Magnolia Rose. Although it had been repaired many times, including an almost complete rebuild after it was badly damaged during the Civil War, the barn featured double turrets and spires, one on each end, with an open breezeway down the center of the building. Two dozen stalls, an office, a large tack room, and a small apartment in the overhead loft were all put to use. Further down the lane, on the other side of a hill, hidden from the view of the road, was a new state-of-the-art facility where he spent most of his time. However, something about the old barn built by his ancestors drew him there with frequency.
“Welcome to Cutler Springs Farm,” Brett said, turning off the ignition and smiling at Tara as she stared at him.
“Wait a minute. Ashley said a nearby farm supplied the horses for the living history events. Is that you? You own this farm?” Tara stared at him with a mixture of surprise and wonder.
Brett laughed. “My parents and I are partners. I have my own breeding stock, house, and barn on the back side of the property. We do a little of everything here, from boarding horses to training, to breeding.” He got out of the pickup and walked around to open her door. “After lunch, I’ll show you around, but I’m starving.”
“I had no idea… I just assumed…” Tara took his hand and slid out of the pickup, keeping her mouth closed as he lifted a picnic basket from the backseat of his pickup. Together, they followed a path past the barn that led to a sunny hilltop. Oak and willow trees provided shade for the quilt Brett spread on the lush grass.
“Your picnic awaits, Miss Tarleton.” He held her hand as she settled herself on the blanket. With her legs tucked to one side, she glanced up at him and his heart began pounding in double time. She looked so pretty and entirely loveable, so undeniably kissable, he dredged up a heaping dose of willpower to keep from pushing her back on the blanket and losing himself in her soft sweetness.
After he offered a brief word of thanks for the meal, he took out bread, cheese, slices of meat, fruit, and a container of lemon bars he picked up at the bakery in town. He removed two jars of strawberry lemonade and handed one to Tara.
“It all looks delicious,” she said, studying the ripe red berries floating in the pale yellow lemonade. “Did you make this?”
Brett shook his head. “My mom made the lemonade, the cookies and bread came from the bakery, but I did slice the cheese. Does that count?”
Her laughter floated around him and drew out his smile. “It certainly does. Truly, this is wonderful.” She gazed around, taking in the pastures full of horses, the barn in the distance, the smell of earth and flowers blending with the slightest aroma of roasting meat on the breeze. “It’s gorgeous out here.”
While they ate, Brett asked her questions about growing up in the Portland area. She asked him about the horse farm and his family history.
“Honestly, Brett, I thought you just worked for Ashley and Wade. I had no idea you owned all the horses, or your own breathtaking corner of Georgia. You must think I’m an idiot.”
He wiped his mouth on a napkin then smiled. “Not at all, Tara. It’s an easy mistake to make. Don’t give it another thought.”
“Cutler Springs has been in your family for how many generations?” She looked out over the verdant pastures and pointed to several foals running in a race only they understood.
Brett nodded at the antics of the horses. “Seven generations. My ancestors moved here in 1828. Tommy Culver, my great-great-grandfather however many times removed, was twenty-two that year. It wasn’t long after he arrived that he met one of the neighbor girls and fell head over heels in love.” He paused for a moment, realizing for the first time the wealth of emotion Tommy must have experienced upon meeting his future bride. Brett recalled the first day he’d set eyes on Tara and felt a jolt to the core of his being. Aware she awaited more of the story, he continued. “Beetrice Wellburn was already courting someone else, but after meeting my grandfather, she broke things off. The two of them wed three months later. They had six children, all girls but the youngest. My family endured wars, carpetbaggers, the Great Depression, and any number of tribulations, but through it all, Cutler Springs survived and eventually thrived.”
She smiled and glanced around her surroundings again. “I’m so glad it did, Brett. What a wonderful legacy you have here to pass down to your children someday.”
The mention of children filled his head with visions of sitting on a picnic blanket in his future with Tara beside him while dark haired children ran around them, laughing. The sudden notion that he wanted her to be the mother of those children caught him off guard.
Abruptly sitting up, he turned his gaze from her to the nearby pasture, struggling to gain control of his composure and gather his thoughts.
“Is everything okay, Brett? You look upset.” Tara placed a hand on his arm.
“Everything is just fine, honey. If you’re finished with your lunch, I’ll introduce you to This and That.” Brett patted her hand reassuringly then stowed the leftovers from their lunch back in the picnic basket. He left the blanket and basket beneath the trees then held a hand out to Tara. “Ready?”
“As ready as I can get.” She took his hand and stood then walked beside him as he headed up a path. At the top of the hill, Tara sucked in a surprised breath at the sight of more horses grazing in front of a large barn and a house that, while modest in size in comparison to the plantation homes she’d seen, looked like it had dropped into place from a previous century. “Is that your house?”
Brett grinned “Like it?”
At her nod, he continued walking along the path down the hill. “I built it three years ago. The inside is finished, although I haven’t done much in the way of decorating. All I really need is a place to sleep and a kitchen.”
A look of question settled on her features as she turned to him. “I thought you didn’t cook.”
He laughed. “I don’t. But I need somewhere for the microwave, freezer, and fridge that make it possible to keep and reheat takeout or the leftovers my mom sends home with me.”
Tara giggled. “You are hopeless, Mr. Cutler.”
“Yes, I am, but only about certain things.” One of the things he was completely hopeless about was Tara. Hopelessly in love with her. However, today wasn’t the right time to voice his opinions. Not when they’d only really met a week ago.
As they neared a fence, Brett moved away from her and leaned against the rails then whistled loudly. Two horses broke away from a group and trotted toward them.
“Oh, Brett! They are stunning,” Tara said as the horses stopped on the other side of the fence and shook their manes.
“They think they are,” Brett teased, reaching into his pocket for a handful of sugar cubes. He handed a few to Tara. “Hold them out on your palm and they’ll take them from you.”
She did as he directed and beamed like a giddy girl when one of the horses nuzzled the treat from her. “That tickles,” she whispered, looking at Brett with eyes bright and full of life.
“Tara, I want you to meet This and That, two of my favorite thoroughbreds, but don’t tell the others.” Brett held out the remaining sugar cubes and the horse greedily took them from him.
“This and That? Are you still teasing me?” she asked, gingerly running a hand along the neck of one of the horses.
“No, ma’am, I most certainly am not. That fine gentleman you’re petting is Thatcher’s Promise, but we call him That. And the winsome young lady over here is Thistle’s Dew, but we call her This. So now you’ve met This and That.”
“So when you say you are working on This and That, shall I assume you’re working with these two?”
He smiled and scratched This along the side of her neck. “That is correct. These twins were born three years ago and are coming along quite nicely, if I do say so myself.”
“They’re beautiful, Brett. Thank you for introducing us.”
“My pleasure.” He gave This a final pat before stepping back. Tara followed suit. The horses stood at the fence, waiting for more treats or attention, swishing their tails. When the humans failed to deliver, they turned and raced off across the pasture.
Rapt with interest, Tara watched them until Brett touched her arm and tipped his head toward the barn. Hand in hand, they walked over to it. Although the outside of it blended in with the old buildings at Cutler Springs, the inside was a completely different story.
“Oh, wow,” Tara said, stepping into the facility that looked sleek and modern. Brett pointed out some of his favorite aspects of the barn and showed her his office. He then took her on a meandering walk that led past a pond, an orchard, and back to the quilt he’d left beneath the trees.
“Want to rest a while?” he asked, taking a seat next to Tara once she sat down.
Dreamily, she smiled at him. “I’d love to. The afternoon is so warm, and nice, it would be a shame to spend the day inside.”
He hid his surprise when she flopped back and crossed her hands beneath her head, staring up at the spring sky. Following her lead, he rested beside her and expelled a long breath. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d just lazed away an afternoon, especially with a pretty girl.
“Oh, look at that cloud, Brett. It looks just like a star.” She pointed skyward, but he couldn’t make out the shape.
He turned his head and studied her. “Did you do stuff like this as a little girl?”
“Sure. My friend Ellen and I used to stare up at the sky all the time and talk about our dreams.” Tara sighed. “Ellen is on her way to being a big shot attorney, but she seems hesitant to take the next step, which is ditching me and our apartment in a suburb and moving downtown so she’s closer to work.”
“Have you told her she should move?” Brett rolled onto his side so he could watch Tara. He found her far more fascinating than anything happening in the clouds above them.
“I’ve tried to be subtle about it, but that hasn’t worked. I don’t want her to think I’m trying to kick her out, because I’m not. Ellen could share my apartment until we’re both so old and senile we’ve forgotten we’re friends and could be new acquaintances every day. But she has a long commute to and from work. With her ever-increasing work load of cases, and cases of greater responsibility with the firm, she needs to live closer to her job.” Tara sighed again. “I suppose I should tell her that, one of these days.”
“Probably.” Brett battled the urge to kiss Tara. Sunlight streamed through the trees, highlighting the dark sheen of her hair, the creamy smoothness of her skin, and the ripeness of her lips. Focused on her mouth, he leaned toward her until he realized she’d closed her eyes.
Amused she felt so comfortable around him she’d drifted to sleep, he propped himself up on one elbow and watched her. Skin like hers was meant to be kissed. Savored. Adored.
It took great restraint to keep from trailing his lips down the decadent expanse of her neck.
After a few minutes, he decided watching her so intently most likely rated high on the creepy scale among new acquaintances. He shifted onto his back, allowing himself to relax and close his eyes.
The sound of a stifled giggle awakened him. Rapidly gaining his bearings, he remained unmoving as something tickled his nose. Rather than bat at it, he waited to see what Tara would do. Something brushed over his cheek then across his chin. A feathery touch, although he was certain it wasn’t a feather.
Her breath blew across his neck and ignited an explosion of wanting. Before she could pull back, he wrapped his arms around her and drew her close, placing a moist, noisy smack to her neck.
“Brett! You startled me,” she said, staring down at him with a mischievous glow in her luminous green eyes.
He tightened his hold on her ever so slightly and stared into her face. He adored every freckle marching across her pert nose, the way her dark eyebrows arched over her eyes, and the peach-toned hue of her lips.
It was then he noticed her long hair spilling all around them like midnight ribbons of silk. She still held the end of one lock between her fingers. Realization struck him of exactly what she’d been teasing him with — her hair.
“What do you think you’re doing, Tara?” he asked in a husky tone, wondering if she had any idea what she did to him. Obviously she didn’t, or she wouldn’t be teasing and tempting him so.
The light in her eyes darkened and her tongue darted out, moistening her lips. “I… I’m not sure…” she said on a whisper. Her playful appearance faded, replaced by a look of hesitant concern.
Brett groaned and pulled her down until he could bury his face against the soft, fragrant skin of her neck. She smelled like ocean breezes and summer skies, with a hint of vanilla. Breathing deeply, he trailed his hands from her shoulders down to her waist and back up again. The idea of tugging down her zipper and sliding his hands against her skin crossed his mind. Just as quickly, he chased it away.
He brought his hands back up and buried them in her hair, relishing how it felt entwined around his fingers. Slowly, his lips brushed across hers, tasting, sampling, giving.
The next thing he knew, he rolled Tara onto her back and leaned over her, drawing a heated, fervent response from her willing lips.
With the scent of spring filling the air, and the song of the birds in the trees serenading them, Brett kissed her over and over again, each blending of their mouths more passionate than the last.
On the verge of losing his control, he kissed her once more then rose to his feet. He held a hand down to her, ignoring the befuddled look on her face. “Before I forget I’m a gentleman and decide to claim you as my own right here beneath the trees, I think we better go.”
Tara nodded, subdued and uncertain. He couldn’t blame her if she was confused. One moment he was declaring his love for her through increasingly ardent kisses. The next, he was telling her it was time to go.
As they gathered the quilt and picnic basket, Tara shot him a few questioning glances, but remained silent.
Brett took the quilt from her hand and tucked it beneath the arm carrying the picnic basket then placed his other around her shoulders, drawing her to his side. “I wasn’t teasing, Tara. Just being around you makes me want to toss caution and good sense aside. I’m sorry if I came on a little too strong, but you are so lovely and smell so good, I couldn’t help myself.” He gave her what he hoped was a charming, endearing grin. It must have worked because she relaxed against him and turned her face to his with a warm smile.
“You didn’t come on too strong. Although I was wondering if you’d have kissed me quite so… freely, if I smelled like garlic and had on a dirty chef’s coat.”
He chuckled and gave her a hand into his pickup. “You could smell like burnt garlic and have on a gunnysack and I’d still think you were the prettiest girl I’ve ever met.”
She tilted her head to one side and grinned. “So under your list of faults, I can add no sense of smell and impaired vision.”
His laughter preceded him around to the driver’s side of the pickup and behind the wheel. He started the pickup and put it in gear before he looked over at her. “Mom is making dinner and would be thrilled beyond words if you’d join us, but no pressure. If you aren’t interested, I can take you home, or we could go into town and grab something.” Brett drove back to the road.
“I’d love to join your family, as long as it isn’t an imposition.”
“Not at all. Mom will be ecstatic to meet you.” He’d only gone a few hundred feet down the main road when he turned onto a paved lane, surrounded on both sides by white fences and grazing horses.
“How many horses are here on the farm?” Tara asked, watching foals race across the pasture.
“If you count the boarders, breeders, and babies, we have right around two hundred.”
She gaped at him then returned to staring out the window.
Brett followed the lane around to the front of an impressive home that rivaled Magnolia Rose for both age and grandeur. The house would have appeared boxy, if not for the spectacular rotunda that fronted the second floor, braced by white pillars across the first floor. Red bricks faced the steps while black shutters at each window gave it an almost Federal style in appearance.
“Oh, Brett! This is where you grew up?” Tara asked as he parked the pickup. He nodded then hurried around to open her door. “It’s beautiful.”
“We kind of like it,” he said, offering her a grin that brought out the hint of dimples in his cheeks.
He took Tara’s hand in his as he led her down the walk and up the steps of the front door. A quick glance at her revealed a flash of nervousness as she attempted to run a hand over her hair then down the front of her skirt. He’d been the one responsible for mussing her hair and wrinkling her skirt, but his mother wouldn’t care how Tara looked. She’d be too excited by the fact that Brett had finally brought a girl home with him to notice anything else.
His breath stirred the hair by her ear when he bent close to her. “We really don’t have to do this. There’s still time to escape if you’d rather eat dinner in town. Or I can take you back to…”
“No,” Tara said, giving him a reassuring smile. “I’d love to meet your parents and see the inside of this fabulous house.”
Brett placed his hand on the small of her back and nudged her forward when he opened the door. “They are most likely in the kitchen, so I’ll give you an abbreviated tour on our way there.”
Tara stepped into the entry and spun in a slow circle, taking in the light-drenched space. “Oh, it’s amazing, Brett.” Her fingers trailed across the end of the oak banister as they walked past it and headed down a long hall. He showed her the formal parlor, the library, a second parlor, the music room, the dining room, and his father’s office. By the time they reached the kitchen, his stomach growled at the smell of roasted meat and yeasty bread. “Dad put pork on to roast this morning. It should be just about ready,” he said, pushing open the door to the kitchen and stepping inside, pulling Tara along with him.
“Hello, baby!” Randa Cutler said, beaming at her only child as he walked into the kitchen with Tara. “Your timing is impeccable, as always. We’re just about ready to eat.”
“I’m glad we didn’t come any later, then,” Brett said, moving a step closer to Tara. “Mom, Dad, I’d like you to meet Tara Tarleton. She’s the pastry chef at Wade and Ashley’s place, at least for this month. You should taste her pecan pie. Grandma couldn’t have made it any better.”
Randa wiped her hands on a dishtowel then stepped around the counter, giving Tara a welcoming hug. The woman was petite, but shared the same blond hair and blue eyes as her son. “Welcome to Cutler Springs, darling. We’re so pleased to meet you. I’m Randa and this is my husband, Alex.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Miss Tarleton,” Alex held out a hand in greeting.
Tara took it with a smile. “It is a pleasure to meet you both, Mr. and Mrs. Cutler. Thank you for the invitation to join you for dinner.”
“Oh, please, call us Randa and Alex.” Randa looped her arm around Tara’s and guided her out the kitchen door to a screened porch that overlooked one of the horse pastures.
“It’s so lovely here,” Tara said, awed by the breathtaking views as well as Brett’s parents. She’d expected them to be stuffy and formal, looking down their noses at a girl like her, but they immediately made her feel right at home.
“Thank you. We rather enjoy it,” Alex said, carrying a bowl of salad to the table. Covered in vintage lace and set with antique china and silver, the table looked like it was set for a fancy tea rather than a simple meal.
“Mom always gets out the old stuff on Sunday,” Brett whispered, leaning close to Tara.
She smiled up at him and placed her hand over his where it rested possessively at her waist. “Is there something I can do to help?” she asked, glancing from Brett to his mother.
“No, darling, not at all. Just sit yourself down and we’ll be back in a jiffy.” Randa breezed back inside the house with Alex.
Brett pulled out a chair for Tara and kissed her cheek after she was seated. A faint rosy hue tinted her face as she glanced back toward the kitchen door, checking to see if his parents were watching. Assured they were busy with the meal, she relaxed.
Brett squeezed her shoulder and disappeared inside. He soon returned with his parents, carrying a platter in each hand.
After Alex asked a blessing on the meal, they dug into the food. Brett had anticipated his mother giving Tara a thorough interrogation of her background, career aspirations, and how many babies she planned to give a doting grandparent to cuddle.
However, his mother surprised him. She asked questions about Tara’s work, both at Magnolia Rose and in Portland. Randa got Tara talking about her family, and their love of all things Gone With the Wind.
“Have you taken her to the museums, honey?” Randa inquired, turning to Brett.
He wiped his mouth on a napkin and shook his head. “No, Mom. There’s hardly been time. This is only the second day Tara’s had off since she arrived.”
Randa frowned then turned back to Tara. “You really should visit them all, darling. The official Gone With the Wind Trail starts in Marietta and ends in Jonesboro. If you are a fan, you must go to at least one of the museums.”
“Oh, it sounds wonderful,” Tara said, smiling at Randa. “If I have the opportunity to go, I’ll be sure to do so. It’s just that Sundays are my only full day off and I plan to leave the day after the guests clear out. I have to get back to my life in Portland, no matter how much fun it would be to stay here.”
Randa gave her son a pointed look then changed the subject to the antics of the guests staying at Magnolia Rose.
Brett and Tara entertained the older couple with stories about the two teen boys who loved to play pranks, but had yet to be caught in the act, so they’d gone unpunished. Brett told his parents of Tara playing Scarlett and dressing up to rescue her from the group, although the debate of whether he was Ashley or Rhett remained a hot topic among the living history participants.
Randa smiled and patted her son’s cheek. “Well, of course you are Rhett, baby. With that killer smile and the way the girls all look at you in those ridin’ britches, you’d have to be the dashing Rhett Butler.” The woman winked at Tara. “I always did think Ashley was a bit of a milquetoast sort of fellow.”
Tara laughed and Alex took charge of the conversation. He answered her questions about Cutler Springs Farms and the horses. By the time the meal ended, Brett felt warmth radiating from his heart throughout his whole being. Although he hoped they would hit it off, it was nice to see his parents seemed quite taken with Tara. She appeared equally at ease with them.
While he helped his father with the dishes, his mother insisted on giving Tara a tour of the house. Nearly an hour passed before they returned to the family gathering room at the back of the house where the two men watched a detective show on the big screen television.
Brett and Alex both rose as the women walked into the room. “Mom must have given you the full nickel tour because the two-cent one only takes about fifteen minutes.”
Randa laughed and playfully thumped Brett on the arm. “We had a wonderful time, baby. Now, it’s getting late and this poor girl is probably exhausted. Take her home, but make sure you get in a good night kiss.”
“Mom,” Brett said in a warning tone that made his father roll his eyes while Randa winked at Tara.
“It was lovely to meet you, darling. Come anytime to visit. We’d love to have you.”
Tara gave the woman a hug then shook hands with Alex. “Thank you so much for your hospitality and making me feel so welcome in your home. I’m not sure if my schedule will cooperate, but if it does, I’d love to come again.”
Randa looped her arm with Tara’s as they moved toward the door. “Just tell Brett anytime you want to come with him. He can bring you. Or Alex and I could run over to pick you up. At any rate, don’t be a stranger.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Tara followed Brett outside and looked back once, waving at his parents as they stood in the doorway, watching them leave.
Brett let his thoughts wander as he drove Tara to Magnolia Rose and walked her to the back porch steps.
“Thanks for spending the day with me,” he said, rubbing his thumbs across the palms of her hands, doing his best to ignore the sparks the simple touch ignited. “It was one of the best days I’ve had in a long, long time.”
“I’m the one who should be thanking you,” Tara said in a low voice that struck a resonant chord somewhere deep inside Brett. “You’ve been so kind to me, so good to me, and I thank you for it. It truly was a pleasure to meet your parents. They both are just awesome.”
Brett grinned. “I agree that they are awesome, but don’t tell Mom I said that. She’ll never give it a rest.”
Tara laughed and started up the steps, but Brett held onto her hand, prohibiting her escape. He hurried up the steps, until they both stood on the top one. Lights from the house illuminated the porch in a hazy, yellow light that, oddly enough, seemed like a soft, romantic glow.
Unable to stop himself, he wrapped both arms around Tara and kissed her full on the mouth. Although restrained, he allowed enough of his feelings for her to flow into the kiss that she took a staggering step back and sucked in a sharp breath when he finally raised his head.
Convinced they’d be caught at any moment, he cupped her cheek and smirked. “Until next time, beautiful Tara. Good night.”
“Night, Brett.”
He jogged down the steps and over to his pickup, not looking back. If he did and saw her watching him, he wasn’t sure he could force himself to leave.