The Husband Hunt. Karen Kirst
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and turned toward the lane. “There he is now.” Nathan dusted his hands on his pants and started forward to meet his brother.
Trailing behind him, she spotted Will perched on the seat beside Josh. As if sensing her unspoken question, Nathan tossed an explanation over his shoulder. “Will wanted to help load the wood. I didn’t think you’d mind.”
“No, of course not.”
When the team halted, Will jumped down and joined Nathan at the back. Josh waved and smiled a greeting. “Hey, Sophie.”
“Morning, Josh.”
The eldest son of Sam and Mary O’Malley, Josh was a more laid-back, more outgoing version of Nathan. Only two years apart, they shared similar features. Both were tall, tanned and gorgeous. Josh’s hair was a touch lighter than Nathan’s, his eyes blue instead of silver and he sported a trim mustache and goatee that lent him a distinguished air.
He never looked at her with disapproval. But then, she’d never yearned for Josh’s approval like she did Nathan’s.
“How’s Kate getting along?” she asked.
His smile widened, eyes shining with a deep contentment that made Sophie a little jealous. Okay, more than a little. What she wouldn’t give to inspire such emotions in Nathan!
“She’s feeling a lot better these days—as long as she steers clear of my brother.” He shot Nathan a teasing look, laughing when he scowled in response.
Suppressing a grimace, she gestured toward the wagon. “You’re a good neighbor.”
“And here I thought we were friends.” He winked.
“You know what I meant.” She smirked, following him to the rear of the wagon.
When they had finished unloading the lumber, Josh turned to her. “Sorry I can’t stay and help, but I’ve got to deliver a dining set before lunch.”
“I understand you’ve got a lot to do. It’s no problem.”
He hooked a thumb toward the cabin. “Before I go, I’d like to say hello to Tobias if he’s awake.”
“Yes, please do,” she said, smiling through her worry. “He’d like that.”
As Josh let himself in the cabin, Nathan and Will joined her beneath the wide-limbed oak tree. Even though the sun had a long way yet to climb, the air was thick with humidity and the promise of scorching heat.
“I don’t want beans again for supper,” her brother informed her, sweat glistening on his face, “so I’m going fishing. Will you fry up my catch?”
While they could use his help with the henhouse, beans for the third night in a row didn’t appeal to Sophie, either. Maybe fried fish would tempt Granddad to eat. “Sure thing.” She squelched the urge to smooth his hair. A few years ago, he wouldn’t have minded. Things were different now, though.
She watched as he ambled off to the barn to fetch his fishing pole.
“Are you ready to get started?” Nathan prompted.
She shifted her gaze to his face, shadowed by his Stetson’s black brim. “Not yet.”
“Uh-oh, I’ve seen that look before. What’s on your mind?”
“If you want to help me, you have to allow me to give you something in return.”
Something mysterious slipped through his eyes, something she’d never seen before—a mini-explosion of heat and want immediately contained, hidden from view as if it had never been. Her heart thudded in her hollowed-out chest. What—
“Sausages,” he blurted.
“Huh?”
His entire body stiff, he turned and walked away, jerking up the ends of four long planks and dragging them toward the spot where they would rebuild.
“Everyone knows you make the best-tasting sausages around. If you insist on paying me, I’ll take some of those.”
Sophie stayed where she was, not a little confused by his reaction to a simple statement. “Okay. Sausages it is. If you’re sure that’s what you want.”
He dropped the planks and shot her an enigmatic look. “I’m positive that’s all I want from you.”
She went to help him, certain she was missing something and feeling her mother’s absence more keenly than ever.
Chapter Four
Three hours later, Nathan hammered the last nail into place on the new roof. Despite his fatigue, the thin film of sweat coating his skin and the hunger pangs in his belly, satisfaction brought a smile to his face. He stepped back to admire his and Sophie’s handiwork.
This henhouse was shorter and wider than the original...and all but impossible to tip over. A small ladder led up to the hatch above the man-size door, allowing the chickens to come and go as they pleased during the day.
“What do you think, Soph?” He glanced over to where she was replacing her tools in the box.
She shot him a tired smile over her shoulder. “I think this one will outlast you and me both.” When she stretched out her hand to snag her hammer lying in the grass, he noticed her fingers shaking.
Chucking his own hammer on the ground, he crossed to the elm tree and the basket of food he’d put there. “Can you help me with something?”
Straightening, she flipped her golden braid behind her shoulder and joined him without a word, taking the ends of the red, white and blue pinwheel quilt he held out to her and helping him spread it on the ground.
“Now what?” She looked to him for direction.
“Have a seat.” He knelt on the quilt and withdrew the smoked ham and cheese sandwiches, jar of pickled beets and container of coleslaw.
Eyeing the bounty, she gestured behind her. “I should put my tools in the barn and go check on Granddad.”
“You checked on him fifteen minutes ago.” He lifted two mason jars full of sweet tea and propped them against the trunk. “How about you eat something first? I packed enough for both of us. Will, too. I’m sure he’ll come ’round when he’s hungry.”
She wavered.
Nathan produced a cloth-covered plate. “Aren’t you curious what’s under here?” he teased.
When Sophie sank down on the quilt, the hunger finally showing on her face, he couldn’t suppress a grin.
“Oatmeal cookies?” she asked hopefully.
“Nope.”
Tapping her chin, she mused, “Peach turnovers?”
“Uh-uh.”
She threw up her hands. “Tell me already.”
He lifted the white cloth to reveal thick slices of apple crumb cake.
“Mind if I have my dessert first?” She grinned mischievously and swiped a slice, humming with pleasure as she sank her teeth into the spicy-sweet cake.
Nathan couldn’t tear his gaze away. Her eyes were closed, and he noticed for the first time how her thick lashes lay like fans against her cheeks, how her neat brows arched with an intriguing, sassy tilt above her lids. A breeze stirred the wisps of hair framing her oval face.
She opened her eyes then, caught him staring and flushed. Shrugged self-consciously. “I forgot to eat breakfast.”
He pointed to where stray crumbs clung to her lips. “You, ah, have some, ah...”
Averting her gaze, she brushed them away. He turned his attention to his sandwich, his thoughts flitting around like lightning bugs trapped in a jar. Why all of a sudden was he noticing these things about