The Husband Hunt. Karen Kirst
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a sigh. She’d long ago given up hoping for approval from Nathan O’Malley.
“Hello, Nathan.”
One dusky eyebrow quirked. “I see you’ve made a new friend.”
She peered down. The animal’s focus had shifted to Nathan, and it was now stamping the ground in warning. “Yeah, well, my friend doesn’t seem to like you very much.”
He eyed the skunk with caution. Sunlight shifting through the trees glinted in his light brown hair, cut short so he wouldn’t have to fool with it, and bathed his classic features in golden light. Features that were branded into her brain. A straight, proud nose flanked by prominent cheekbones. Square jaw. The crease beside his full lips that flashed every time he smiled.
And who could forget those quicksilver eyes? They dominated her daydreams, hovered at the edge of her consciousness as she drifted off to sleep at night. It was downright irritating.
“I really need to get down,” she informed him, scooting closer to the trunk. That jittery feeling was back. If she didn’t eat soon, she chanced tumbling out of this tree in a dead faint. Wouldn’t that impress him.
“Could you try to lure him away?”
He tore his gaze from the irate skunk to stare up at her. “And how do you propose I do that?”
“I don’t know.” She cast around the forest floor for inspiration. When none came, she suggested, “If you move away, maybe he’ll follow. Toss a stick in the direction of the stream. Maybe he’ll get distracted and realize there’s more to eat there.”
“He’s not a dog.”
Frowning, he edged sideways. The skunk hissed. Followed.
“It’s working!” Sophie swung her body around and stretched her foot down to the knotted branch below.
“Sophie, stop,” Nathan ordered. “Wait until he’s gone.”
She chose to ignore his warning. Unfortunately, her boot slipped. Her grip on the trunk slackened. Scrambling for purchase, she whipped her head around in time to see Nathan surge forward as if to catch her.
The skunk reacted as expected. Tail aloft, he sprayed.
Sophie gasped. Nathan attempted to shield his face with his arms, to sidestep, but he was too slow. Because his focus was on rescuing her. Groaning, she shimmied down the trunk and hopped to the ground as the offended animal scampered in the opposite direction.
“Oh, Nathan, I’m so sorry!” She advanced toward him, only to halt in her tracks as noxious fumes assaulted her nose. He smelled like rotten eggs and garlic. Ugh. Wrinkling her nose, she covered the bottom half of her face with one hand. “Did it get in your eyes?”
His lids blinked open, revealing twin chips of forged steel. Uh-oh.
“No.”
Wearing a disgusted expression, he carefully wiped the moisture from his face with his shirtsleeves. He looked down and grimaced. “These were my most comfortable trousers.”
He didn’t have to say it. Those trousers were headed for the burn pile.
Pivoting on his heel, his long strides quickly ate up the distance to the stream. Sophie followed at a reasonable distance, making a point to breathe through her mouth. Oh, this was terrible. Worse than terrible. He would never forgive her.
On the bank, he tugged off his brown leather work boots, tossed them onto the grass and waded into the sluggish water. While the crystal-clear Smoky Mountain stream dissecting her property wasn’t deep enough for diving, it was deep enough to submerge oneself in, and that’s what he did. When he came up for air, he threaded his fingers through his hair to dislodge the moisture. His white shirt molded to thick, ropy shoulders, chiseled chest and flat stomach carved from countless hours milking cows, mucking out stalls and working the fields. A farmer’s physique.
She forced her too-interested gaze elsewhere, forced herself to remember. Nathan is my neighbor. My childhood friend. He probably doesn’t even think of me as a girl.
And why would he when she didn’t have a clue how to act or dress like one?
Brushing bits of dirt from her earth-hued pants, she fiddled with her rolled-up sleeves and mentally shrugged. She may not dress all fancy like other girls her age, but at least her clothes were clean and pressed and, most importantly, comfortable. Farming was backbreaking, sweaty work. It didn’t make sense to wear frilly skirts and fine silk blouses that would only get ruined.
Still...she couldn’t help but wonder sometimes what it might be like to wear a dress, to have her hair done up in a sophisticated style. Would Nathan think her beautiful then?
Get your head out of the clouds, Soph.
“We’ve got canned tomatoes in the springhouse—” she pointed downstream “—I’ll go and get them. Surely that will get the smell out.”
“Forget it.” Not sparing a glance her direction, he sloshed up and onto the bank. “I’ll take a vinegar bath at home.”
Twisting her hands together, she took halting steps forward. She wanted to go closer, but she was standing downwind and the odor was overpowering. “How long are you going to be mad at me?”
Pausing in tugging his boots on, he shot her a hard glance and retorted, “For as long as it takes the smell to wear off.”
“But—”
“No.” He cut her off with a jerk of his hand. “Honestly, Sophie, when are you going to learn to curb your impulses? Think before you act? One of these days you’re going to land yourself in a real heap of trouble and I may not be around to help. Quite frankly, I’m getting kind of tired playing rescuer.”
* * *
Nathan reached his parents’ cabin and was climbing the back porch steps just as Caleb emerged. One whiff had his younger brother backing up and raising his arm to cover his nose.
“What happened to you?”
“Sophie Tanner happened, that’s what,” he muttered, still aggravated with the headstrong tomboy. If she’d only listened to him and stayed put a few more minutes, he wouldn’t smell like a rotten bucket of pig scraps. He unbuttoned his shirt. “Do me a favor. Grab the vinegar from the cabinet. And ask Pa if he’ll help you milk the cows. I doubt they’ll let me near them reeking of polecat.”
“What has Sophie done now?”
Explaining what happened as he undressed, he chucked his shirt, pants and socks into a heap to be burned later. Caleb’s resulting laughter didn’t bother Nathan. His brother laughed so rarely these days that he relished the sound of it, no matter that it was at his expense.
Clad in nothing but his knee-length cotton drawers, he prompted, “The sooner I get that vinegar, the better. Hurry up.”
“I wish I could’ve seen your expression when that ole polecat doused you. And Sophie...I imagine she was fit to be tied.” Brown eyes full of mirth, he was still chuckling and shaking his head as he disappeared inside.
Half sitting on the porch rail, Nathan recalled Sophie’s last expression all too clearly. Her eyes wide and beseeching, her face pale, even distraught, as he stomped off.
He pinched the bridge of his nose to dispel the blossoming ache behind his forehead.
You didn’t handle that very well, did you, O’Malley?
Caleb reappeared, a black handkerchief concealing the lower half of his face. The wicked scar near his eye lent him a sinister air.
“You look like a bank robber.”
“I won’t say what you look like.” Caleb held out the vinegar bottle. “Why the hangdog expression? Oh, wait. Let me guess. You gave Sophie a piece of your mind, and now you’re feeling guilty.”
Grabbing