Page 7

“Sure. That’d be great.” My voice is quiet.

Leon squints over at him. “You’re Sawyer’s friend?”

“Taron,” he supplies.

I push Leon’s foot off the chair. “Sit up at the table like you’ve got manners.”

“Get off me, woman!” Leon shoves another bite of biscuit in his mouth, and I shoot Sawyer a look.

“That’s no woman, that’s your sister.” My oldest brother deadpans.

All three guys laugh, and my eyes narrow.

“Thanks.” Sarcasm is thick in my tone, and Leon laughs more, bumping his chest against the table.

Sawyer clears his throat, and I guess because he’s a Marine now or maybe because he’s leaving, he has the decency to try and salvage the situation.

“Leon.” His voice is sharp. “I need you to help Noel while I’m gone. Treat her with respect.”

Leon groans like the fifteen-year-old he is. Sawyer must give him a glare I don’t see because he changes his tune. “Okay.”

“Are your friends coming today?” Sawyer shifts the conversation to business. “We need them ready to sort tomorrow morning. Jay’s coming with his crew.”

My little brother shrugs. “They said they’d be here.”

“Why don’t you text them and be sure.”

He lets out a groan and pushes out of his seat. “Good breakfast, sis.”

“Take another biscuit.” I put one in his hand as he scuffs out the door.

Sawyer stands, pulling his phone from his pocket. “I’ll check on the crate situation. Thanks, Noel.”

He’s out the door, leaving me at a table full of dirty dishes.

Taron sits back watching them go before turning to me. He’s so damn hot. “Are they always like that?”

My brow furrows as I pretend to think then nod. “Pretty much.”

“So you make breakfast, they eat it, give you a hard time, then leave you to clean it all up?”

“Well… I mean, it’s what we do. The house is mine.” Pushing away from the table, I start collecting the dishes and carrying them to the sink. Behind me, I hear him doing the same, and I turn around. “You don’t have to—”

“I came here to help.” He gives me another grin, and I chew my bottom lip, watching him carry dirty plates, his broad shoulders stretching his cotton tee. He’s gotta be at least six-two.

“I think Sawyer is expecting you to help with the men’s work.”

“The men’s work?” His voice changes. “Now that is something I would not expect to hear from you.”

“How come?” My eyes narrow. “You’ve never met me.”

“True.” He nods. “But I know your brother, and he said you graduated with honors and plan to go to business school in the fall.”

“I do.” Crossing back to the table, I pick up the last of the dirty plates. “And I don’t expect to have to lift and carry a bushel of peaches in a board room.”

“A bushel.” He holds a towel, and I wash the first dish, passing it to him to dry.

“That’s fifty pounds.” I hand him another clean plate, and he dries it, reaching overhead to return them to their shelf each time.