“You, too.” Two words were the best she could do at that point.
Trace released her hand, and as that strange aura slowly evaporated, she felt her face heat. Rachel directed her attention down at her plate as she fought to regain her equilibrium. Her pastries had been eaten and her tea was most definitely drunk. I think I need to get back to work.
“Why don’t you gentlemen sit here with Grandma Kate?” She pushed back her chair and stood.
“Please, don’t leave on our account,” Brandon said.
Rachel smiled. Someone had raised this man right. “I’m not, I promise. I have to get back to work.” Then she turned her attention to the other woman. “Thank you so much for inviting me to join you. I really enjoyed myself.”
“So did I, sweet girl. We’ll have to do this again, soon.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Then she nodded at the men. “I’ll let Bernice know you’re here. Have a good day, gentlemen.”
Rachel was grateful they were sitting in Bernice’s section. They’ll likely still distract me as long as they’re sitting in the restaurant, but at least I won’t have to talk to them.
“You, too, Rachel. It really was very nice meeting you,” Trace said.
She expected one or both of the two men to say they’d see her again, soon. They didn’t, and she wasn’t sure what she thought about that.
Rachel mentally shook her head. Probably, her reaction had been the result of some sort of weird cosmic juxtaposition of stars or something. Maybe a comet just buzzed past the earth. She scooped up her plate and cup and headed back to the kitchen. Definitely time for me to focus on work.
* * * *
Brandon took the chair next to Grandma Kate while his best friend, Trace, sat right across from her. Because he knew and respected the older woman, he was careful. He didn’t send more than a quick glance Trace’s way.
The last thing he needed was for anyone, even Grandma Kate, to discover that he’d just had such a profound reaction to meeting Rachel Cosgrove. In the next moment, he knew, with that one look, that Trace had been kicked in the gut, too.
We’ll talk about it later.
With perfect timing, Bernice Benedict—Aunt Bernice—appeared and handed him and Trace menus.
“I’m so happy to see you, Brandon. When did you get into town?”
“Last night, Aunt Bernice. It’s good to see you, too.”
It didn’t take long for either him or Trace to make up their minds. His mother used to say he was a growing boy and would eat practically anything and everything. Now he was a man fully grown, and that was still pretty much the way it was.
“I’ll have the pulled pork sandwich, please,” Brandon said. He’d only needed to check the menu to ensure the item was still listed. It was definitely one of his favorites. “With fries and sweet tea.” Kelsey had the best sweet tea. It was hard to believe she hadn’t been born right here in Texas—that was how good it was.
“I’ll have a hamburger, fries, and a Coke, please.” Trace handed back his menu and gave Aunt Bernice that grin he had that Brandon wished he could borrow sometimes.
“Pulled pork and fries and burger and fries it is,” she said. “And a salad, each, to start?” Bernice Benedict held her pen above her pad and waited, right eyebrow cocked.
“Yes, ma’am.” He and Trace answered at the same time. He made a note of the look in Grandma Kate’s eyes just before she looked down. Then she took a sip of her tea and pretended she had not just witnessed the two of them being bested by her daughter-in-law.
The women of this town may be delicate of appearance, but they were mighty.
Aunt Bernice brought their drinks and laid her hand on Brandon’s shoulder. When she brought their salads, it was Trace’s turn to receive that bit of maternal affection.
Amazingly, the woman recalled that he usually preferred Italian dressing while Trace liked ranch. He and his best friend dug in. Salad actually tastes pretty good. He made short work of it then sat back and awaited his sandwich.
“I knew you were coming home,” Kate said to Brandon. “I just wasn’t certain when.”
“My transfer to Goodfellow and appointment as instructor became official yesterday, so here I am. I’ve already checked in at the base, of course. They assigned me my quarters and told me to report for my first classes next Monday. I’ll be able to come home for weekends, which pleases Mom.”
“Yes, it’s too long a drive to attempt it every day,” Kate said. “How do your parents feel about the two of you sharing a house?”
“My mom thought it was a good idea,” Trace said. “One of the reasons I came back home was because Bradley is beginning to give Mom some minor fits. He’s a good kid, but he’s just at that difficult age. When Mom was telling me about his acting out, I remembered myself when I was younger.”
“You were never a kid who acted out,” Brandon teased. “I’d have heard about it.”
One would think, looking at the two of them, that with three years between them, they’d have nothing in common. They’d met when Brandon was twenty-one and Trace eighteen. Brandon had been home on leave and had volunteered to help on a call out to a grassfire. Trace by then was already a seasoned firefighter, and Brandon had gladly bowed to the younger man’s expertise during the event. They’d somehow clicked. The rest of that leave, they’d spent a lot of time together. Brandon didn’t doubt that Trace’s more mature nature sprang from the loss of his father a few years before. Brandon’s parents had divorced, and he’d grown up taking care of his mother, as much as she took care of him. He and Trace had been able to keep in touch and to see each other face to face
