Sally: Autumn Storms (F&L Story #4)

Sally: Part 14

Growing up in a ranching family, he often saw women much like Sally. His mother had been such a person. Gritty and hard-working, yet sweeter that a gallon of fresh honey. There were a few things Sally had that his mother didn't – a teasing disposition and a saucy mouth, to name a couple. In Wilson's opinion, that made his boss lady more attractive. From the start, he admired how she tackled tasks bigger than she was and laughed at herself doing it.

Did she really say she only killed one animal a week to be fair to other hunters? If anybody else made that statement, it'd reek of a bloated ego. Not Sally. She sincerely meant to be equitable to her fellow sportsmen out there in the deer woods. And she'd been proud to get the four-point buck. Her eyes practically sparkled with the candid emotion. Wilson only knew a little about deer hunting, having been more of a fisherman in his other life, so he knew that four points on a deer's antler meant the animal to be relatively young and small. Sally hadn't cared. If anything, he expected the new trophy to be hanging in her dining room soon.

When he entered through the back porch, he took a second to strip his boots off. He curled his upper lip at the sight of all that chicken shit on the leather. Great. That meant it was time to clean out the coops again. As often as the birds defecated on the sawdust ground of their homes, Sally and he only mucked out the coops two to three times a week, rotating the job between them. It was currently Wilson’s turn. He wondered how he could bribe Sally to take his turn.

Maybe a kiss or two…

He dropped that thought before it latched too tightly in his mind. Sally’s forgive-and-forget attitude might not be as lenient if he reminded her of what she was supposed to be forgetting. He only wished more people in the world followed that mantra. Namely his brother, Linc. Yet, Wilson refused to accept that his brother ever would, especially since he couldn’t forgive himself.

Shaking his head clear of that thought too, Wilson enter the kitchen, not wanting to think about his troubles with his brother, or about Macie, or even the past two years. Today, he only wanted to focus on Sally, his current life, and those homemade biscuits she promised him.

Damn, the woman could flat out cook! Several times this week, she offered dinner up to him, and mostly, he was smart enough to decline. However, there were those few nights when he walked by the kitchen window and the delicious smells wafting out to him turned his feet in that direction anyway. His favorite by far was her chicken and dumplings. She made them just like his mother used to. On Tuesday night when he accepted her invitation, drool had been coming out of his mouth. He ate four helpings. He remembered walking back to his camper that night thinking he could definitely get used to eating at her place.

Sally stood at the counter with her back to him, and he leaned against the doorjamb for a moment, just watching her. She shed the fleece-lined jacket, wearing only a form-fitting green t-shirt underneath, and her camouflage pants were cinched so tightly around her hips, little folds lined her lower back where the fabric overlapped. The hat was gone, too. Her hair had been repositioned at the very top of her head in a messy knot, and Wilson’s eyes followed the delicate angle of her neck down to her slender waist.

Too old, my ass, he snorted. Granted, she wasn’t a killer beauty, but what she did have punched quite a wallop. Yesterday morning, he caught her frowning at her reflection in a window, tugging at her cheeks and brow, trying to smooth out the lines on her face. Not wrinkles. Laugh lines. Around her eyes, they resembled petals of a daisy, fanning out softly and beautifully. Her soft mouth was bracketed by the same laugh lines, existing only because she rarely went without a smile on her face.

Even now as she peeked over her shoulder, sensing he was staring at her, she had a grin plastered across her pretty features. “Well, come on in,” she laughed at him, white flour smudging her nose. “This will take a few minutes, but I’ve got something for you.”