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Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

J ake removed his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow, put his hat back in place and picked up the pitchfork. Out of all the chores he performed, this one was by far the worst. Mucking out the barn was only the first step in this particular job…after loading up the wheelbarrow, he had been instructed to add the straw mixed with manure to the growing compost heap on the other side of the house. It was honest work, but the odor was sometimes unbearable. Even tying a handkerchief around the bottom half of his face didn't help. The smell didn't seem to bother the cats—all three of them—and the dog, who sat lined up, just watching him.

He'd much rather be in the riding ring, having his daily lesson. He was enjoying those hours spent in the saddle under Evie's tutelage. She was patient and kind, her smile lovely as he progressed. He thought he was doing well—he certainly felt more comfortable —and she agreed, though Clementine still made a habit of ignoring his commands every now and then so she could wander over to Evie, watching from the fence.

He scraped the last of the manure from the wheelbarrow and added it to the top of the heap. That part wasn't so bad. It was the next part that made his stomach roil—mixing the new with the old. Sweat made his shirt stick to his back and frankly, his arms hurt, the muscles screaming in protest. One of the men he bunked with said the pain would go away…it was just that he'd never used those muscles in that particular way before. Shoveling manure was much different than boxing.

Still, he could see the rewards. The compost fed the vegetable garden. Neat rows of corn, beans, potatoes, melons, bright red tomatoes, and other edibles he couldn't identify with just a glance extended into the near distance, the leaves and stalks vibrant green against the darkness of the soil. It was the same with the flowers Evie carefully cultivated. The compost did good things for the roses. He'd never seen blooms so bright, or so many, but then, he had little experience with flowers aside from picking out a bouquet from the little stand on the corner near his home in San Francisco.

Done with the smelly task, Jake wiped the sweat from his brow again, then grabbed the empty wheelbarrow by the handles and began pushing it toward the barn on the other side of the house. The animals followed, as they always seemed to do, though the dog moved a bit slowly.

A wonderful aroma wafted by from the open window, tantalizing him. Something was baking in the kitchen. Bread? Pie? He couldn't tell. His stomach growled. Maybe Grub had something in the ice box, leftovers from supper the night before he could munch on. Supper seemed a long way away at this point.

As he passed by the garden, he heard Evie's voice—low and throaty—sultry, like a siren's call. Answering that call, he stopped and glanced over the row of waist-high rose bushes that formed the border between the garden and the barnyard. He smiled as he took in the sight before his eyes.

Evie sat in one of the chairs on the lawn, shaded at this time of day by the awning over the patio. The children—all of them —were spread out on a blanket at her feet, even the youngest, a baby he'd seen before, but didn't know. She had their complete attention as she read to them. The children didn't move at all, not even Toughie, who never seemed to sit still. On more than one occasion, he'd caught the toddler running away from his mother, naked as the day he was born, his giggles filling the air, his chubby little legs carrying him much farther than one would think possible.

He didn't recognize the story, but that didn't matter. It wasn't so much the words that enthralled him, as it obviously did the youngsters, but her voice. He took a step closer, slipping through the rose bushes to stand there, listening. The cats and dog followed but didn't go farther, as if waiting for him, although Flower butted her head against his leg.

She closed the book at what he assumed was the end of the chapter. "All right, upstairs with you. Time for a nap."

The only girl in the group, Savannah, pouted. He expected nothing less of her. She knew exactly what she wanted, as she'd told him several times. Inquisitive and bright, she had quite a lot of opinions—and even more questions—for a six-year-old. And she adored her Tia Evie. "I'm too old for naps," she huffed, obviously displeased.

Evie laughed, that low sultry voice filling his head, making his body respond as much as his heart and soul. "One day you'll wish you had time to take a nap, mi amor . Take them while you can." She handed the book to the girl. "Now, bring this inside with you, please."

"Yes, ma'am." The girl huffed again, but took the book, and scrambled to her feet. The other children followed suit, leaving only the baby still on the blanket. "I'm still too old for naps!" she called out as she led the boys—Toughie by the hand—into the house and slammed the door behind her.

Evie shook her head then stood and reached down to pick up the baby, holding him close. The boy gurgled and the tone of her voice changed as she almost sang to him, like she'd sung for Spitfire not so long ago. "She's stubborn like her Tia Lucy, isn't she, Ramón?"

The baby laughed, obviously as captivated with her voice as he was. Ramón reached for the gold hoop hanging from her ear. She grabbed his hand and brought it to her mouth, then proceeded to make num num noises against his fat fingers. The baby giggled.

The action, as well as the baby's reaction, made Jake burst out in laughter. He'd never seen anyone do that before, but then, he had no experience with babies. Was that normal? Had his own mother done that so long ago?

Evie swiveled her head in his direction, her face taking on a becoming blush. "Oh, Jake, you startled me."

"My apologies. That was not my intention." He took a few steps closer and caught the scent of her perfume. Or was it the roses he smelled? Sometimes, it was difficult to tell. "What were you reading to the children?"

" Around the World in 80 Days by Jules Verne."

His attention was diverted by the sight of the baby tugging on the buttons of her blouse, trying hard to manipulate the round pieces of ivory with his pudgy fingers. He snapped his attention back to her face. "I haven't read that one."

"If you like to read, you should take advantage of the books in the bunkhouse."

"I have been. It's quite a collection. I'm currently reacquainting myself with Mary Shelley's Frankenstein ." He took a step closer until he was looking down at her face. And such a lovely face it was, too, especially right now with her cheeks stained pink. "It's always been one of my favorites, though I will admit I'm enjoying the dime novels as well."

"Mine, too." Her voice was almost breathless now, and so much sultrier than before if that were possible. Like the expression in her eyes, it was filled with…what? Anticipation? Longing? He couldn't tell, but he could listen to her all day long…and longer.

"Do you read to the children often?"

"Not as often as I'd like. This was my first opportunity in a long while." She smiled up at him, her eyes glowing with the love she had for the children. "They seem to enjoy it. I do as well."

And why wouldn't they enjoy it? He certainly did, and for a moment, he was a little jealous of the children and the time she spent with them. He wanted to spend more time with her, too. Their mornings in the riding ring didn't seem to be enough. He planned to remedy that. "Do you have any plans for the afternoon?"

"You mean what am I planning to do now?" Once again, she removed the baby's fingers from her earring, pressed her lips against his palm and blew out, making a funny noise that produced giggles from the boy.

Jake watched with fascination, a chuckle building in his chest. He tamped it down as his gaze swept over her. "Well, yes."

"Work on the ranch never stops, as you know." She smiled, and his heart gave a quick lurch, then started pounding again—hard. That had never happened to him before either, and he took a small step back, his mind concentrating on his reaction, instead of her words.

"I have plenty of mending to do. Or I could help Hilde in the kitchen. She's making her famous lebkuchen today."

" Lebkuchen ? Is that what I smell? What is it?"

"It's a honey-sweetened cookie with spices and nuts. Hilde made them for me when I was young, and now she makes them for the children. They love them and she loves making them."

"I'd like to try one." He picked up the blanket from the ground, shook it a bit, then folded it, but didn't know what to do with it, so he just held onto it.

"I'll make sure to send some out to the bunkhouse when they're done." She looked at him, her eyes wide in her face, full of hope and promise, and for a second—a lifetime—he couldn't think of anything else he'd rather see. And then his gaze dropped to her smile, and he changed his mind. He wouldn't mind seeing that smile for the rest of his life.

"What about you? Are you finished with your chores?"

"As it happens, I am. At least, until everyone comes in for the night. I thought I'd take a walk."

"Where to?"

"I heard there's a nice spot where the river bends. My bunkmates tell me it's a good place to fish or just sit beneath the trees and while away an hour or two." He looked down at his sweaty state. "Or wash up."

"I know the place well. It's where Peque?a Casa is."

He didn't know much Spanish, but he was picking up a word or two here and there. "The little house?"

"Yes. It's the original homestead. When the Silva family first came to this valley, that was the house they built. After time, and as the family grew, they built this house." She gestured to the two-story structure beside them. "As long as you're heading that way, you could pick some blackberries for pies."

Flower rubbed up against his legs, her purrs loud, as if she was trying to tell him something—like here is your opportunity to spend a little time with Evie outside of the riding ring. The fanciful thought pleased him. He glanced at the cat then at her. "Would you like to come with me? I don't really know the way."

She drew in her breath and that smile, the one he was so enchanted by, appeared. "That would be lovely."

"I'll meet you back here in fifteen minutes?"

She nodded. "Yes. Fifteen minutes." She hefted the child more securely in her arms then took the blanket from him and headed toward the house. He could hear her talking to the baby as she laid the blanket on the small table on the patio. She had reverted back to that husky sing-song voice, and it filled his head.

Jake waited until the door closed, then left the garden. Grabbing the wheelbarrow, he headed toward the shed behind the barn, the cats and dog following behind him. As he raised his arms to hang the pitchfork on the hook, he caught a whiff of himself. And here, he'd been thinking it was the compost pile that stunk.

It wasn't.

He had fifteen minutes to make himself presentable and remove the stench. He left the tool shed, removed his shirt, and headed toward the bunkhouse and the barrel of water. He dunked his head and came up sputtering then used his discarded shirt to wash himself off, rubbing extra hard under his arms. Too bad he didn't have time to take a proper bath.

"No, you can't come with me," he said quite clearly to the animals as he let himself into the bunkhouse. It was empty at this time of day—his bunkmates, including Grub, were out in the summer pasture with the horses and cattle, though Grub would be returning soon to start supper. He grabbed a clean shirt from his trunk and slipped it on, ran a brush through his wet hair and left the bunkhouse to wait for Evie, anticipation singing through his veins. He smiled as the parade of cats and one old dog followed him to the garden.

"You go to sleep now." The baby reached for her earring as she put him in his crib, babbling to himself as he did so, words he was just beginning to learn. Mama was quite clear. So was Papa and horse. There were other words and phrases he used for what he wanted. At eleven months old, he was learning to speak much sooner than the other children, but that didn't surprise her.

"No, you can't have that," she whispered, as she removed his hand from her earring, then covered him with a light blanket. She handed him a stuffed animal in the shape of a lamb, his favorite. He clutched the fuzzy toy, kicked off the blanket then turned on his side, stuck his thumb in his mouth, and closed his eyes. In moments, he was asleep.

She glanced around the room and smiled. For a girl who'd said she was too old for a nap, Savannah was fast asleep. So was Miguel. She was certain Toughie, in his mother's room on the first floor, was sleeping as well, cuddled up on the big bed.

She quietly crept from the room, closing the door softly behind her. The house, usually a whirlwind of activity with the sound of children laughing and running from room to room, had grown quiet. Nap time was a good thing. She loved the quiet of this time of day, almost as much as she loved the end of the day, when the sun set, and the world breathed a deep sigh.

She walked down the hall to her room and grabbed her hat, then headed downstairs.

She paused with her hand on the banister. Anticipation bubbled through her. Such a small thing—to take a walk—and yet, she looked forward to it. Much more than she probably should. Perhaps it was just because she enjoyed Jake's company. Or maybe it was the opportunity to steal a kiss or two—or ten—from him.

She continued down the hall, picking up one of Miguel's carved horses as she did so and placing it on a side table before entering the kitchen.

Hilde sat at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee in front of her. Steam rose from the brew, lending its fragrance to the air to mix with the batch of lebkuchen baking in the oven. "And where are you going?"

"I thought I'd pick some blackberries." She opened the pantry door and glanced inside but didn't see the basket she looked for. Closing the door, she headed to the cabinets beside the sink and looked in there. Still no basket.

"Alone?"

"Well, no." She closed the cabinet door and stood next to the sink, then pushed the curtain aside and looked behind it. "Where is the basket?"

"In the hall closet." Hilde took a sip of her coffee. "Who are you picking berries with? The children are all napping."

"Jake."

Hilde smiled. "Good. He seems like a nice man. And muy guapo ," she said, using the Spanish words for ‘very handsome,' which sounded funny with her German accent.

"I've watched him with the children. He's very good with them. Kind. Patient, even with Savannah and her million and one questions." Hilde chuckled. "He's good with the animals, too. That menace of a cat seems to adore him. And his riding lessons seem to be coming along very well. It hasn't gone unnoticed. I heard Antonio and Teddy talking about it."

Evie couldn't deny what she was saying. She'd seen these things with her own eyes, including Flower's behavior. "What are you trying to tell me without telling me?"

"I'm not trying to tell you anything."

"Oh yes, you are. Just spit it out." She grabbed one of the lebkuchen from the plate where they were cooling, wrapped it in a napkin then turned. "You've never been known for your subtlety, Hilde, nor have you ever been afraid to express your opinion."

Hilde cocked an eyebrow as her gaze dropped to the napkin in Evie's hand, then rose to her face. "Like I said, I think he's a good man." She didn't blink, but she did smile. Broadly. Like she had a secret—or was about to suggest something just a tiny bit wicked. "There could be wedding bells in your future. Or not. It's really your choice, Evie. You don't have to marry him."

"Why are you pushing me at him?"

"I think you finally deserve to be happy, liebchen , even if it's just for a little while. But you'll do what you want, as you always do."

She took the comments for what they were worth, acknowledging that Hilde was doing what she'd always done, which was look out for her. "I love you, Hilde, but why do you think I'm not happy? Why does everyone assume that?"

"You've been alone for so long, taking care of everyone else, raising Gina's children into fine adults, building this ranch to what it is." Hilde waved her hand to encompass the room. "But there's more to life than this ranch. You have a big heart. A good heart. You should share that with someone special."

"Thank you, Hilde." She pushed through the door, grabbed the basket from the hall closet, and left the house through the front door instead of facing the woman again.

She walked around the side of the house and her heart picked up its pace when she caught sight of Jake. He stood by the chair she'd occupied earlier, hat in hand, and talked to the cats and dog who sat patiently. She couldn't hear what he was saying, but the animals didn't move, obviously listening to every word he said. He patted the dog on the head, then rubbed one of his silky ears. Smokey leaned against his leg, obviously loving the attention.

"They like you," she said, as she approached him.

"I think they do. They're great companions, though they don't say much." He laughed and his soulful amber eyes crinkled at the corners. "I've always liked cats. Their independence speaks to something in me. I've never had much experience with dogs, though." Smoky leaned harder against his leg as Jake continued to rub the dog's ear. "Why doesn't he go out with the men when they leave in the morning? I notice he whines and just sits there, watching. It's obvious he wants to go with them."

"We retired him. He's getting too old to chase cattle, though he wants to." She reached down and scratched the dog's ear, too, then ran her fingers through his soft fur. "The desire is there, and will remain for the rest of his life, I'm sure, but he pays for it. One day out in the summer pasture and he limps for a week. For now, he gets to stay at the homestead and play with the children. Or follow you around."

"Are you ready?" he asked, as he held out his arm.

She held up the basket, slipped her free hand into the crook of his elbow, then glanced at the animals at their feet. "Stay," she commanded, though she knew giving the cats a command like that only worked one out of a hundred times. The dog obeyed, and stretched out on the grass, his muzzle resting on his paws. He whined as they walked away, but never moved from his spot. The cats weren't so obedient and followed for a short distance…until their attention was captured by something moving in the shadows of the barn and they went to investigate.

She and Jake wandered between the bunkhouse and the barn, coming to the gate in the fence that separated the homestead from the grove of tall trees and the river a short distance away. He held the gate open for her.

Once on the path, Evie reached into the basket, pulled out the napkin-wrapped cookie, and handed it to him. "I brought you this."

"Is it that cookie you were telling me about?"

" Lebkuchen . It's still warm."

She watched him take a careful bite, then another, and another. She didn't have to ask if he liked it. That much was obvious by the expression on his face, which was one of pure pleasure.

"That's the best thing I've had in a long time. Thank you."

She liked walking beside him like this. He matched his stride to hers as they ambled along, the basket swinging from her arm. He didn't speak, but then, neither did she. For the moment, there didn't seem to be a need for words, the silence between them comfortable as they traversed the meandering path.

"Do you miss San Francisco?" he asked, breaking the silence.

No."

"Not even a little?"

"Actually, not at all. My life here is so much different, so much better."

"How is it different?" Curiosity danced in his beautiful amber eyes.

"If I had stayed in San Francisco, I would have married the man my father chose for me, whether I wanted to or not. It wouldn't have been for love, but rather standing and accumulated wealth. That's what wealthy young women did. They married to advance their standing in society or to please their fathers."

She paused then looked up at him. "I never wanted that. Even before I was given this—" she searched for the word, "opportunity to come here and take care of my sister's children, I wanted to be free to choose my own…path."

She spread her arm, the one holding the basket, wide to encompass the path and the trees surrounding them. "There's freedom here. Don't you feel it?"

"I do." He nodded in agreement.

"I would never have been able to accomplish there what I have here. This ranch is thriving. Successful. People come from all around to buy our horses, drawn by our reputation." She glanced at him again, loving the attention she clearly saw on his face, knowing that he listened to every word.

"Something else I never found in San Francisco." She gestured to the trees, then raised her hand to the sky above them, seen between the leaves of the trees. "Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?"

"Yes, I have," he said.

There was something in his voice that made her take her attention from the sky and bring it back to him. "Tell me."

He shrugged as if embarrassed, then uttered, "You."

Pleasure at his compliment rushed through her, making her warm all over.

"When you're talking about this ranch, your eyes light up. You become… animated , I guess would be the word, and the love you have for this place shows on your face and in your voice."

"You're right. I do love this ranch. And I'm grateful that I've had a part in making it what it is."

"You have plenty of reason to be proud."

They left the shade of the trees and came into the sunlight in a clearing; blackberry bushes, cultivated over the years, now lined the path. Evie stopped, as she always did in this spot, to gaze upon the little house nestled there, the sound of birdsong and the river rushing filling her ears. "And this is Peque?a Casa . Isn't it beautiful?"

"It is."

She loved this little house. It wasn't abandoned, but it wasn't really used much. No one lived in it anymore. It wasn't very big, but it was sturdy and comfortable. From the front porch, one could sit and listen to the river, which was peaceful and calming. Someday, she might live here. She'd toyed with the idea before, but lately, it seemed to be in her mind more and more often. Perhaps it was time to give the big house over to her nephews' growing families.

She removed her hand from the crook of Jake's elbow as her gaze fell on the blackberry bushes lining the path. "Look at all those blackberries. There's a good crop this year." She moved closer to a bush loaded with ripe, purple fruit, plucked one, and popped it into her mouth, the sweet flavor exploding on her tongue. "These will make an excellent pies." She nodded in another direction. "Over there are apple and walnut trees. A few peach trees. Some pear trees. The apples and pears won't be ripe for another month or so, but there should be some peaches left we can pick if you want." She ate another blackberry, then glanced at him.

She had his full attention, his gaze filled with undisguised warmth. And his smile! Oh, that smile made butterflies dance in her stomach. It looked like he wanted to kiss her. She wished he would. He took a step closer, and she almost closed her eyes in anticipation, but instead of pressing his lips to hers, he simply reached behind her, pulled a blackberry from the bush, and ate it.

"Sweet," he murmured, but she couldn't be sure from his look if he was talking about the fruit. Or her. His gaze never left hers. Her stomach did flips.

Evie cleared her throat and forced herself to stop looking at his mouth. Only then was she able to remember what she'd been saying. "The Silvas, when they first settled here, did everything they could to make this ranch self-sufficient. For flour and sugar and other necessities, of course, they could go into Santa Fe or Serenity, but my understanding is that the Silvas preferred to stay on Monta?a del Trueno as much as possible, though I would hardly know if that's true. They were long gone by the time I came here. The only one left was Serafina, the children's grandmother."

"Come." She led him closer to the house. "Toward the end of her life, her memories had faded quite a bit and she couldn't remember much of anything. There were times when she didn't know who we were. Or thought we were someone else." She let out a sigh of regret. "She passed last year."

"I'm sorry." His voice held sincere sympathy.

"She was a good woman." And as she said the words her throat constricted a little. "I miss her."

"I'm sure you do."

"There's a photograph of her with Savannah in the study. Lucy took it just after Savannah was born." She paused, then added, "I will admit, sometimes I still talk to her."

"Nothing wrong with that."

At the front of the house, she stopped and stepped up to the porch. "Would you like some water? I think there might be a bottle of whiskey if you'd prefer that."

"Don't put yourself to any trouble. Water will be fine, thanks."

"Make yourself comfortable." She gestured to one of the rocking chairs, then let herself into the house. Someone had been there recently. There wasn't any dust on the furnishings and the floor had been swept clean. There were two glasses on the counter beside the sink, washed and left to dry on the drainboard. One of the boys, perhaps, looking for a moment alone with their wives?

She filled two glasses with water from the pump and brought them outside. "I saw you outside the bunkhouse the other night," she said, as she handed him his.

He accepted the glass and frowned as she took her seat next to him and slowly rocked back and forth.

"You were…well, it looked like you were fighting."

"You saw that?" He laughed.

"I did."

"Father O'Malley, at the home, loved boxing, which one would find unusual, I'm sure, given that he's a priest. He loved the mechanics of it, the elegance, the discipline, and yes, even the brutality, though he'd never admit that part to anyone. He taught boxing to all of us boys."

He'd spoken of the priest before, and she loved the way his feelings for the man animated his features. "Clearly you were quite fond of Father O'Malley."

"I was. Still am. In many respects, he was the only father figure I had in my life."

She took a sip of water, watching him over the rim of the glass. "What would you have said if, when we first met, I wanted to get married? If I had written to you? Would you have gone through with it?"

A look passed over his face and his warm amber eyes seemed to be full of secrets. But then he smiled and said, "Yes."

She watched him, wondering if he told the truth or not. "When I asked you why you responded to Lucy's letter, you said you were looking for change, looking for something more. Have you found it?"

He looked out at the river, and for a moment, she didn't think he would answer, and then he spoke, his voice rather hoarse. "I think I have." He cleared his throat. "Perhaps it was fate that Father O'Malley placed the newspaper with Lucy's advertisement in front of my face and told me, in no uncertain terms, that it was time I grew up, became responsible. Respectable. Fall in love, marry, and settle down. Make a life for myself other than what I'd known."

"Oh."

"He was angry at the time, but he was right." He paused, then looked at her. His eyes were bright. "It was time. I was lost, Evie. In so many ways. A man without commitment to anyone or anything aside from myself. And I had been looking for… something. I just didn't know what. Purpose? A reason to keep going? A special person who would be an answer to the prayers I hadn't known I'd been praying? At that point in time, I seemed to have failed at every turn." He smiled a sweet smile, then reached out for her hand.

"Plus I was amused by the advertisement." He recited the beginning of the notice Lucy had placed in the newspaper. "Wanted: Gentleman interested in marriage to a mature, older woman."

She laughed even as her face flamed. "Is that what it said? That's awful!"

He laughed as well. "But effective. The advertisement listed some of the benefits of such an arrangement. I admit, I found it charming and funny. It struck something in me. I wanted to meet the person who wrote such a sweet advertisement, so I responded. I didn't think anything would come of it, but then I got your—I mean Lucy's—letter, inviting me to come here to meet." He rubbed his thumb against her fingers. "I couldn't pass up the opportunity. I took that leap of faith, as Father O'Malley would say."

"Are you sorry?"

He shook his head. "No, not at all. I've learned so much since coming here. A lot about myself. Things I never knew."

"Like what?"

He laughed. "Well, I like the hard work, believe it or not. There's a certain dignity to getting your hands dirty and putting your back into a task for the good of everyone, not just myself. I learned that I love the horses. Their beauty and intelligence speak to something in me." His voice gentled and became serious. "And I met you and your family. That alone was worth the trip."

She hadn't expected such a response and her throat constricted. "Are you happy here?"

"I am. Very. More so than I thought I would ever be. You are right about this place. There is a freedom here, and a chance to be the best person I can be. Thank you for letting me stay."

She cleared her throat. "I'm glad you did." She tore her gaze away from him and looked out at the sunlight playing upon the river's surface. "We should pick those berries if we want pie for dessert tonight. Are you ready?"

"Sure." He handed her the empty glass and rose to his feet. Evie brought the glasses in the house and washed them, leaving them on the drain board to dry. Outside, she grabbed the basket and slipped the handle over her arm.

He gave an exaggerated bow. "After you."

They spent the next half hour picking blackberries…well, she picked. He grinned as he put one berry in his big hand and one in his mouth, repeating the process until he had a handful.

"You're supposed to be putting them in the basket, not eating them."

"But they're delicious." He laughed. He dumped his handful into the basket, then plucked another berry from the bush and ate it. He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing, drawing her attention, and she wanted to place a kiss right there.

He dumped another handful into the basket, but his gaze was on her. She could feel the heat of it all the way to her toes.

He looked in the basket. "What do you think? Do we have enough?"

"I think we have enough for two pies."

He switched his gaze to her. "So that means we have to head back."

"We should."

A look of disappointment passed over his face.

"It has been a lovely afternoon...but there are chores to do. Pies to make."

His expression said he didn't want the afternoon to end. "I suppose if we must." He popped a last blackberry in his mouth, took the basket from her, then extended an arm to her. Evie placed her hand in the crook of his elbow, feeling the warmth of his flesh through his thin shirt and the muscles tightening beneath her fingers. They walked without speaking, though the silence was comfortable. The homestead was just ahead. She didn't want to step through the gate and go back to the chores that awaited her on the other side. She stopped in the middle of the path and blurted out, "You haven't tried to kiss me."

He stopped as well and faced her, warmth making his amber eyes glow. "Well, I can fix that."

Anticipation rushed through her, making every nerve in her body zing. Her heartbeat increased in speed until she could hear it as he slowly placed the basket on the ground then drew her close, wrapping his arms around her, holding her tight.

Evie pressed her hands to his hard, muscled chest as his head dipped and his mouth captured hers. His lips were warm and firm as they pressed against hers, provoking a response, promising so much more. She opened her mouth, allowing his tongue entry, unable and unwilling to resist giving into that promise.

If a kiss could make one burst into flames, she'd be incinerated on the spot.

"I'll thank you to take your hands off my aunt!"

Evie jumped, startled, and stepped out of Jake's arms. Blood rushed to her face as she turned and faced Teddy. Her entire body felt flushed.

Teddy sat atop his horse on the other side of the fence, the expression on his face a mixture of anger…and something else, something she couldn't identify. She turned to Jake, who stood beside her, his body tense, his hands balled into fists.

The last thing she wanted was a fight between them.

She'd seen Teddy go after a former ranch hand who had been inappropriate toward Ana, and there were the normal scrapes between him and his brothers, but she'd also watched Jake when he was boxing his shadowy opponent. The way he moved, the way he maintained complete control, she had no doubts who would come out the victor should they resort to blows.. "I should go."

"Should you?" Jake asked, his voice close to her ear, low and seductive.

"Yes, I should." But she didn't want to. It was time Teddy stopped this ridiculous notion that he was her protector. She thought she had already made that clear.

"Why?"

"I don't want any trouble between you,"

"If that's what you want." He stepped back but he took her hand and brushed his lips against her knuckles. It was a gallant, romantic thing to do. And right in front of Teddy. His eyes held hers for a moment, then he released her hand.

She pulled her gaze away from his. "Thank you for a lovely afternoon." She picked up the basket then passed through the gate, where Teddy still sat on his horse a few feet away. She turned once. Jake was still watching her, his intense gaze making her feel warm and tingly. She gave him a slight nod, then walked over and turned her attention to her nephew. "Were you spying on me?"

"No, but someone has to watch out for you, Tia Evie." He looked down at her, but only briefly as his unrelenting glare returned once more to Jake. The warning was silent, but clear.

"We've had this discussion before," she all but hissed at him. "I am a grown woman. I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions. Up to now, you have agreed with many of them, so what's different?"

"He's a maverick, Tia Evie." Again, another quick glance in her direction and then his intense focus went back to Jake, who started walking toward them in that loose-hipped swagger he had. "I've seen his kind before. Follows his own rules without regard for honor. A man, I suspect, who breaks hearts wherever he goes. I don't want your heart to be among the many."

"You don't know Jake at all. He isn't like that."

"I see he has you fooled." The sarcasm in his voice was thick.

"Teodoro Augustus, you have no right to speak to me that way. I am no fool. Apologize."

"I'm sorry." Even though he said the words, it was obvious to her that he didn't mean them. The expression on his face hadn't changed. There was still anger there.

She paused for a moment to still her own ire. "Why are you here?"

"I was looking for you. I didn't expect to see you…kissing him."

She ignored his comment. "Why were you looking for me?" A sudden thought had apprehension racing through her. "Is someone hurt? Is it one of the children?"

"No one is hurt. You just have a visitor. He's been waiting for quite some time."

Another kind of anxiety rippled through her. "Who is it?"

He shrugged. "Don't know. I was riding up to the house when Antonio flagged me down and asked me to fetch you."

Evie really didn't want to meet whoever had come to see her, probably another ‘husband,' not after the lovely afternoon she'd spent with Jake. Not for the first time, she asked herself why Lucy had started all this ‘mail-order husband' business. She repressed a sigh then focused on her nephew. "This conversation is far from over, Teddy. Go back to the house. I'll be there in a minute."

"Actually, I'd like a word or two with Jake." He tugged on the reins before she could respond, and made his way through the gate, coming up on Jake in a slow walk. Evie watched him, her heart in her throat, waiting for that first punch to be thrown or a kick from his position in the saddle. Neither happened.

Instead, Teddy slipped from the saddle to stand beside Jake, and started talking, their voices low, surprising her. She couldn't hear what they were discussing, but it didn't matter. There were no punches thrown, no sharp angry words. Relieved, she continued toward the house, determined to send her visitor on his way, then tell Teddy exactly what she thought once they could have a moment alone.

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