“Uh-huh. I believe in hoping. I wasn’t sure…” Landon’s lips were on his throat.
“You do a lot by faith.”
“God walks with me, cher.” Landon stopped, stared right at him. “That ain’t gon’ change. I believe—in the good Lord and in you.”
“I’ll try to live up to it.” He shrugged. “There are a lot of things I can’t explain.”
“You don’ have to.” Landon touched his mouth, then took a long, hard kiss, stealing his breath. That was far better thantalking, and Adam let the kiss go wild, thrusting his tongue into Landon’s mouth.
He could live with that, he guessed. Adam would just have to learn to have faith.
As Landon started stripping him down, he thought maybe that wouldn’t be all that hard.
“Hey,Nutbutter, can you hand me that bowl of eggs?” Beau was in the kitchen, making breakfast for an army, ham and bacon on the stove, grits in an old aluminum pot, a skillet waiting for eggs. Landon had slipped out of bed early, leaving Adam sleeping, not sure what to say or do in the morning light.
“Yessir.” He handed them over and set to chopping onions and peppers for the man.
He’d like to say that him and Adam had torn each other up last night, but they hadn’t. It’d been slow, lazy, like they were both scared to fuck up again, which he reckoned they was. Deep down it did Landon good to see Adam so careful, so worried. Meant Adam gave a shit.
He’d needed the son of a bitch to do just that. He knew the rest of the Taggart boys were showing today and he knew that, no matter what anyone said, blood was thick and the other two didn’t care for him none. He figured if last night was the last time, he’d remember every second of it, from kisses to coming.
“Landon?”
He blinked, then glanced over at Mr. Beau, who was staring, waiting, flipper in hand.
“Yessir?” He’d been all caught up in the maze of his brain.
“Hand me those veggies?”
“You got it.” He handed over the chopped up goodness. “What else you need?”
“Squeeze some of them grapefruits. Jason brought them from Texas.”
“Them pink one’s the best.” There was a twenty-pound bag and he opened it and started squeezing, the glass juicer just like his Maw-Maw’s, who he missed sore these days.
“They are. We’ll have juice and you’ll have muscles.”
Landon flexed playfully, careful to keep the juice out of his tore up hand.
Beau chuckled. “Man, are you sore? I’m about to fall over.”
“Lord, yes. There ain’t an inch of me ain’t noticing that I played bull tag yesterday.”
“I hear you.” The grin on Beau’s face widened. “I bet Jay-Jay is stiff as a board.”
“I bet his shoulder’s screaming Come to Jesus.”
“You know it.” They got breakfast on the table just about the time the other men trickled into the kitchen, sniffing and acting hopeful. Everyone was a little stiff and bruised, too.
“Nutbutter, go out to the kennels and fetch Sammy for me?”
“Sure thing.” He nodded at AJ and Andy when they came in, then went in search of Mr. Sam.
The bloodhounds were all up and wagging, Gramps Pharris’ bassets right there in the pack. “Mr. Sam? Beau says breakfast is ready. You need help feeding?”
“I have some, but always could use it.” Sam grinned and handed him a bag of kibble.
“Good deal.” He started doling out the food, humming under his breath as he did. If they dawdled, they wouldn’t get no sausage. He did love Beau’s spicy sausage.
