A Taste of Leatherwood Creek

“Did you see the Buchanan fellow coming to work?

Megan? Megan? Hello?”

“Oh, sorry.”  Megan smiled at her co-worker and friend, Melinda Graves, hoping she was covering up her embarrassment. She’d been dreaming of Nick Buchanan when Melinda asked. Those tanned, bulging muscles that glistened in the morning sunlight, already layered with a thin layer of sweat, those six-pack abs, tight and hard, and those fabulous blue eyes.

“I asked if you saw that guy this morning.”

“Oh.” Megan wished the burning in her cheeks would stop. She blinked, smiled and fought to regain composure.

“You think he’s hot, don’t you?”

Megan scoffed at the grin spreading across Melinda’s round face. Auburn curls bounced when she laughed. “Honestly, he is hot. Have you seen the guy up close?”

Melinda plopped another gummy worm in her mouth. “Heck, yeah! He almost ran into me at Hank’s Grocery the other day. He has the most gorgeous blue eyes!” She grew serious, frowned and leaned across the table. “But, he didn’t even speak. Not an ‘I’m sorry’ or an ‘Excuse me’. Nothing.”

Megan turned the bag around and swiped a piece of candy. “Yes, I’ve heard that he’s quiet.”

“Quiet. Heck, folks are wondering if the guy can talk.”

The bell rang, signaling break time had ended. Megan eased to her feet. “He talks to his German Shepherd.”

“He has a dog?” Melinda asked after Megan rounded the end of the table.

“Yep.”

“Now there’s a conversation starter.”

Megan shot a glance towards her friend. “Who says I want to talk to him?”

Melinda turned her hefty body sideways as the two walked through the doorway leading into the factories main sewing room and grinned. “I know you, remember? Megan Slater wants to talk to Nick Buchanan.”

 

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