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smaller bite to go with her small smile.

He chuckled, enjoying that she remembered his description of home. “No, my mom could bake love right into the dough.”

She paused, considering his words. “My mother grows and dries peppermint leaves for our afternoon tea. There is no other flavor like it. Perhaps she too includes love in the process.”

He brushed his fingers across her hand, wondering if she wanted to be a mother one day. He wanted to be a dad. The concept had been so far out there, like the horizon beyond the edges of his home fields. Being shot, watching his lifeblood drain away, had changed him. He could acknowledge that now, because sitting across from Neese, the change didn’t seem so scary. Before, the concept of a home and family was overwhelming. Where does a guy even begin? Having her near made it all seem reachable.

“You don’t like vegan foods?” she asked, sampling a kiwi tart. She shuddered and made a face.

He laughed. “Sour?”

“That is not my favorite.” She pushed the plate to his side of the table.

He laughed. “I don’t want it either.” He pushed it back her way.

She scrunched her nose in response.

Tatum picked up the conversation at her last question. “It’s not that I don’t like vegan foods. I like this.” He swirled his fork above the array of confections. “I don’t live the lifestyle. Why, do you?”

“We raise chickens and eat their eggs and there are a couple pork farms. But there are very few cows on our island.”

He nearly spit his water across the table. “How is that possible?”

She laughed at his antics. “My people do not enjoy the texture of the meat. We prefer fish.”

“So, no milk and cookies?”

“Coconut milk and dates.” She perused the selection before her. “What’s that?”

“That is the infamous cupcake.”

“Infamous?”

“It’s so famous, it’s in-famous.” He grinned.

She used a plastic knife to cut a perfect, one-quarter-sized wedge as if she were cutting a tiny cake. She speared the wedge with a plastic fork. He found the action adorable. “Are you always this proper?”

Her fork stopped in midair. “Did I do something wrong?”

He grabbed the remaining cupcake. “These are finger foods.” He took a large bite, leaving frosting around his lips.

She laughed. “You should call them face foods.” Using her fork, she took a dainty bite of the chocolate and cherry creation with cream cheese frosting, and smiled. “I like this one.”

“Me too.”

She continued to use her silverware to take a bite out of each flavor of cupcake. Tatum hooked his arm behind the back of the chair and settled in, enjoying the show. The peanut butter cupcake had Neese guzzling water and smacking her lips—all in the most ladylike way. The dark chocolate and coconut got a shrug. The lemon made her eyelashes flutter. The vanilla had her moaning. He liked the vanilla.

After the cupcakes were sampled, she swirled a spoon through the chocolate pudding. “Tell me more about this farm of yours.”

“It’s not mine. My parents own it. They raise their own feed and milk the cows—all three hundred and fifty.”

Her eyes widened as she patted a napkin to her lips and swallowed. “By themselves?”

He enjoyed the look of horror on her face. “My two older brothers and their families help. My sister’s kid is fourteen and he drives the tractors and everything. They hire extra help if they need it, but it’s a family operation.”

“How many siblings do you have?”

“Four, two sisters and two brothers. I’m the youngest.”

“Blech—that sounds awful. I have one older brother and he thinks he’s king.” Her cheeks blushed almost red as she busied herself choosing her next bite. “My younger brother is not so bad.” She smiled. “Were you tormented by them all?”

“Just by my oldest sister—she was bossy. The rest of us were the best of friends growing up. I never needed a playdate because I always had someone to run out to the treehouse with or go horseback riding.”

Her eyes sparkled. “I’ve always wanted a horse. I asked for one for my fifth birthday and I got a sea horse.”

Tatum enjoyed the way she talked. Her words were rounded and danced from her lips. “Really?”

“I had the most difficult time naming him.”

“Why?”

She sighed as if it were only yesterday that she was a five-year-old again with a great responsibility. “I wanted to give him a name like Volcano, but he was not the mighty steed I imagined.”

“What was he?”

“He was tan, so I named him Butterscotch.”

Tatum smacked his hand on his knee. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.” Her eyes were all big again. “My older brother teased me for ages.”

Tatum pulled out his phone and found the picture of his twelve-year-old niece and her new barrel racing horse. It was a beautiful palomino with a dark nose and ears. “This is Emily and Butterscotch.”

Neese snatched the phone and held it close as she examined the image. “She’s beautiful.”

“She’s fast too. Emily should go all the way to high school nationals on that horse.”

Neese lifted her face. “I meant Emily. You both have blue eyes.”

Tatum blinked. That tender place in his heart where he locked up all those proud uncle emotions threatened to burst wide open. “She was two days old when I first held her, and now look—she’s so pretty I’m going to have to build a fence to keep the boys away.”

Neese grinned. “My dad said the same thing.” She tilted her head. “Actually, he wanted a moat.” She laughed. “Why do men want to keep us from growing up? Yet they do not care if their boys grow like trees.”

Tatum took her hand, tracing his thumb across her knuckles and then back again. He liked that she said “grow like trees.” His mother used to say he grew like a weed. He smiled. “We fall hard for our girls. They are soft and therefore soften us.” Like you soften me.

Man! He sounded like such a pansy, but for some reason, he didn’t care.

Okay, maybe he cared a little. He was not

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