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She skips out the door, leaving the soft scent of flowers in her wake, and I can’t help wondering if I’ll be ready.
8
Rachel
I’m standing in the kitchen with a go-mug of coffee, nibbling a strawberry pop-tart before Zane and Edward have even gotten out of bed.
I know those guys. They’ll sleep until the very last minute, then roll out of bed, stagger across the hall to brush their teeth, pull on jeans, T-shirts, and in Zane’s case, a long-sleeved plaid shirt.
Then they’ll both appear, ready to go in less than five minutes. Edward will look like my little brother, while Zane will look like he just stepped off the pages of a men’s outdoor magazine.
I, on the other hand, require a bit of prep to look this regular. My hair is twisted up in space buns, and I’m wearing a long-sleeved shirt and the only pair of jeans I own. They’re almost 100 percent spandex, because blue jeans are the work of Satan.
I prefer my pants loose and forgiving.
Or skirts.
Still, I figure if I’m going to be hanging around in a barn, I should take my cues from the master and try to mimic his wardrobe. The only problem is I own no plaid, and my sole baseball cap hasKiss My Gritspatched on the crown.
Gran gave it to me. She thought it was hilarious, but I wasn’t old enough to get the reference.
Of course, that launched her into a speech about how all the best shows, movies, music,everythingare gone, and if she taught a course in college it would be on early 1980s sitcoms and social commentary.
“You’re up early.” Zane’s low voice triggers a hot thrill from my stomach all the way to my toes.
He walks into the kitchen, filling the space with his warm scent of cedar and soap and something comforting all his own.
Kiss my grits.
“I wanted to be sure I was ready, and have some breakfast.” I hold up the Pop-Tart I’m eating.
He hesitates, and I swear he almost smiles. “Good call. We don’t usually have food out there, and I don’t want you to have any problems.”
“Don’t worry. I always have these.” I pull a handful of grape Jolly Ranchers out of my pocket. “Is Edward up?”
As if to answer my question, I hear the sound of the bathroom door closing upstairs.
Zane glances up, and I take a second to admire his strong arms, his broad shoulders, the lines in his neck, his silky dark hair, before his blue eyes land on mine again, stealing my breath.
“Putting on his uniform,” I say.
This time he does smile, and his straight white teeth paired with that dimple in his cheek is breathtaking. “He does like that shirt.”
I take a sip of coffee to center my thoughts. “I don’t think he knows I have three versions of it.”
“Where did you find three versions of that shirt?”
“You can find anything on eBay.”
He nods, glancing at my mug. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he knew. He’s a smart guy—and he has a nose.”
Pressing my lips together, I give him a half-smile. “I’m not sure middle schoolers will be okay with a kid who wears the same outfit every single day of the week, even if it is clean.”
“When I was in school, we had kids with special needs.” He speaks slowly, thoughtfully. “It wasn’t okay to treat them differently or make fun of them. Or bully them.”
“It’s never okay on the record. It’s when the teachers aren’t around that bad things tend to happen. Then it’s Edward’s fault for being different.”
His dark brow furrows, and he looks over his shoulder. “I can only tell you my experience. But it wasn’t allowed by my teachers, and we didn’t allow it as fellow students.”
