Part 23 (1/2)
He gave her a lazy smile. ”Morning, Miss Ivey.”
She faltered. She blushed. She fluttered her hands around.
The collar matched the maroon cuffs and was trimmed with the ribbon he'd bought. Tiny little b.u.t.tons marched from her neck to her waist, then disappeared beneath the ap.r.o.n. Her watch pin held its coveted place, resting against the swell of her right breast. She'd even done something different with her hair. It was all gathered to one side and tied with a ribbon, then cascaded in curls over her left shoulder.
”You did a fine job with the fabric, Anna. You look beautiful.”
The sharp sizzle of bacon filled the kitchen. She opened and closed her mouth but said nothing.
His grin deepened as he watched her fret over where to settle her gaze. He was bare from the waist up and bare from the ankles down. That left only his trousers.
Her white, creamy throat exposed by her banded hair revealed the rapid thumpity-thump of her heartbeat. The invitation was almost more than he could resist. But he couldn't kiss her. Couldn't even nuzzle her neck. Not as long as she thought he was betrothed to someone else.
She whirled back around to the stove.
Taking a deep breath, he closed the door, then moved to the washbasin. Picking up his razor, he pulled it back and forth across the strap several times, then tested its edge.
The clinks and clatters that usually accompanied her cooking had ceased. The bacon continued to pop and hiss. It needed turning, but he didn't say a word or glance her way. Simply whipped up his lotion and began to lather his face.
”What are you doing?” she squeaked.
”Shaving.”
”Why?”
”Beards make me itch.”
”No. I mean, why in here?”
He angled the mirror until he caught her reflection. ”Bacon's burning.”
Her gaze flew to the stove. ”Good heavens.”
She busied herself with breakfast, but he could feel her surrept.i.tious looks as he held his jaw with one hand and dragged the razor up his neck with the other.
When he'd finally finished, he ran his fingers across his cheeks, chin, and neck, checking for stubble. Satisfied, he scooped water from the basin and buried his face in it.
He continued with his toilet until he'd washed and rinsed off his chest, his arms, his pits, everything he could reach. By the time he was through drying off, the flimsy little towel he'd used was sopping wet.
He hung it carefully on the rail, then turned around.
Anna leaned against a chair, one hand hovering above the table while holding a platter of fried biscuits.
He winked.
She jerked herself to attention, the platter making a ka-plunk on the table.
”I'm going to grab a s.h.i.+rt. I'll be right back.”
Once in his room, he allowed himself a wide smile. She'd be his by the end of the month, maybe even by the end of the week.
The same rush of accomplishment that came with felling trees coursed through him. He refrained from giving a shout of conquest, though. There'd be time enough for that when the deed was done.
Joe hammered two boards together, making legs for the trellis supporting his log chute. Each strike of the hammer landed harder than the last. He still couldn't believe Anna refused to go fis.h.i.+ng with him. Said she'd rather sew instead.
He shook his head. When he'd given her the fabric, it never occurred to him he'd have to compete with it for her attention. But that's exactly what was required, and not only on Sundays, but every evening after supper.
He formed a T with two boards. Maybe the sewing was just an excuse. She'd not been able to look him in the eye all during breakfast. He'd not been able to keep his eyes off of her in that dress.
Wiping the sweat from his face, he took a deep breath. Could be that if he pushed her any further, she'd think him dishonorable because of Bertha.
He picked up two nails and put one in his mouth. Maybe it was time to tell her the truth-or ease her into it. They'd be sharing some of that veal tonight. Perhaps he ought to bring up marriage again. Tell her he'd been thinking about dissolving his agreement with Bertha.
He pounded the brace into place. At least he had all night to do it, since it would be just the two of them. The men wouldn't be back until late. Of that, he was certain.
Joe had just said the blessing when Red's voice came from the yard. His spirits wilted. So much for a quiet dinner with Anna.
Pus.h.i.+ng her chair back, Anna smoothed down her skirt, then opened the door as Red climbed onto the porch.
”Good evening, Miss Ivey.”
Tamping down his frustration, Joe offered Red a smile, but Red wasn't paying him any attention. Instead, he gave a slow whistle. ”Miss Ivey, you look just beautiful. Did you make a new dress?”
She lowered her gaze. ”I did. Thank you.”
He hooked his hat by the door, leaned back his head, and sniffed the air. ”Mmmmm. Something sure does smell good.”
”It's veal. Joe brought it back from town.”
Red's eyes widened. ”For all of us?”
”Well, actually, there's not enough for the whole crew.” She glanced at the window. ”Are the others here, too?”
”Nope. Just me.”
”Well, there's certainly enough for three. Would you care to join us?”
”Why, thank you, Miss Ivey. I don't mind if I do.”
Joe bit back a groan. ”What are you doing back so early? Is everything all right?”
”Fine, fine.” Red patted his chest. ”Things in town were a bit slow, so I thought I'd come back early and see if you were up for a round of cards.”
Joe brightened at the prospect of a game, then remembered his intent to come clean with Anna. ”Well, I had actually thought to spend the evening reading.”
Red snorted. ”Shoot. You can read any ol' time. Besides, I came all the way back. What will I do tonight if we don't play?”