The Bachelor's Homecoming. Karen KirstЧитать онлайн книгу.
tipped the entirety over his head. He laughed when he caught her staring. “Feels amazing.” Finger combing the excess water from the wet strands, he extended the hat with a grin. “Want a turn?”
“No, thank you.”
Trailing his right hand through the water, he approached and flung tiny droplets on her exposed neck. “You sure? Won’t hurt to unwind every now and then.”
Jane shook her head, even though the cool moisture did feel wonderful. Somehow, she’d forgotten Tom’s playful side. All this time she’d remembered him as he’d been after Megan’s refusal. Somber. Disappointed. A man whose life plans had been thwarted.
“Why haven’t you asked about Megan?” she blurted, cheeks burning when his eyebrows hit his hairline.
“No particular reason. I’ve had a lot on my mind, what with Clara and the farm. Yesterday, my mind was too full of your predicament to give anything else much thought.”
Right. Her spectacular nonwedding.
“So?” he prompted. “How is she?”
“Happy. Not only are she and Lucian the guardians of two adolescent siblings, but they recently adopted a three-year-old girl from New Orleans.”
“She always talked about having a large family. I’m happy for her.”
Jane studied him closely. He struck her as genuine, his interest in her sister casual. There was nothing to indicate he yet nursed a broken heart.
Propping a hand on the branch above her head, he leaned in, bringing a whiff of his distinctive woodsy scent. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Not sure exactly. Do you suspect I came home with the intention of making things difficult for your sister?”
Jane gasped. “Of course not.”
“I respected Megan’s decision. I didn’t like it, but I learned to accept it.”
Mouth dry, heart beating frantically at his proximity, Jane desperately wanted to ask if he still loved her. Her lips refused to form the words.
His brow creased, and he pushed off the branch to pace. “If you think me capable of such behavior, other people might, too. Maybe even Megan herself.” He slapped his hat against his thigh. “I have to see her. Make sure she understands I harbor no ill will. No grand illusions about us.”
Jane stepped into his path, forcing him to stop. “I don’t think that. I know you’d never do such a thing. Megan knows it, too.”
He closed his hands over hers. “Even so, it would be best if she and I had our first encounter in private. Will you go with me? Having you there would put her at ease.”
Tom had no idea what he was asking. No idea how difficult it would be for her to witness their reunion. What excuse, then, could she possibly give?
Caught in his imploring gaze, his touch both wonderful and torturous, she pulled free. Sidestepping him, she sank onto the bank, blindly seizing the nearest dish and soap sliver. She should’ve stayed away. Although it wasn’t in her nature to refuse her ma anything, she should’ve invented a chore that needed immediate attention.
He followed and, taking up the spot beside her, began to wash without a word. She sensed his quiet perusal.
“When would you like to visit her?” she said at last.
“In a few days, once I’ve had a chance to clean out the cabin and round up a milk cow and several hens. But, Jane, I get the feeling you’d rather not go. Has something happened? Have you two had a falling-out?”
“Nothing like that.”
She recalled the day all those years ago when she’d confessed her feelings to Megan. Her sensitive sister had been heartbroken. Megan had known there was no hope Tom would ever love Jane. Not that she would ever voice such a hurtful truth, of course. She hadn’t had to. The evidence was in the way she’d gently tried to reason with Jane, reminding her of their age difference. Back then, seven years had seemed an impossible chasm.
All these years later, he in his late twenties and she of marriageable age, she didn’t register the gap any longer. But while the age factor wasn’t an issue, something Megan never would’ve admitted made a future between them impossible—Jane didn’t possess the qualities Tom desired in a wife. She couldn’t measure up to Megan.
“You and Lucian get along, right? If he isn’t treating you well, I’ll—”
“No.” Surprised by the promise of retribution in his voice, Jane jerked her head up. “Lucian is a wonderful man. He’s good to my sister. To all of us.”
The tension in his shoulders eased somewhat, and he returned his attention to his task.
Studying his profile, she placed the clean dish on the quilt behind her. “We can visit her any day this week. I’m free in the mornings.”
“That’s right. You bake in the afternoons.” Reaching across her, he snagged an extra washcloth for drying. “The townspeople must love that. I often dreamed about your ribbon fruitcake.”
Their desserts were indeed popular with the locals. She used to take such joy from making Tom his favorite treat. That particular item had been off the menu for quite some time. Too many memories.
“Any chance I might get to purchase a slice soon?”
“Right now, we’re taking advantage of the fresh berries for pies and strudels. Perhaps in the fall.”
“I’ll have to be patient, then.” He moved into her space. “Hold still. You have a stray eyelash.”
His fingertips lightly stroked the tender skin beneath her eye. He was close enough that she could feel the cool fan of his breath across her nose. Her pulse rate tripled, and her head felt too light. What Jane wanted was to erase the scant inches separating them, wanted his arms around her, his chest beneath her cheek.
It wasn’t fair that she should possess these feelings for him, suffer these reactions when he wasn’t the least bit affected. She was nothing but a friend to him. Worse, actually. She was the little sister of the woman he’d wanted for his wife.
“There,” he murmured huskily. “I think I got it.”
Tom pulled away slightly, confusion tugging his brows together as his gaze roamed her face as if seeing her for the very first time. As if she were a stranger to him. His eyes flared with surprise just before he turned away and resumed washing without a word.
The creak of wagon wheels had them both twisting to see the new arrival.
“Josh.” Jane wasn’t surprised to see her cousin. He and Tom had been close friends since childhood.
A second wagon pulled onto the lane behind it, driven by Josh’s younger brother, Nathan. The blond hair glinting in the light belonged to his pretty spitfire of a wife, Sophie.
“Looks like an official O’Malley family welcome.” He flashed her a quick smile that struck her as a bit strained. Helping her up, he quickly stepped away.
“Nathan’s brought you a milk cow.”
“Yes, I see.”
Jane wondered at his distant manner. Was he worried her family would hold a grudge because of his lack of correspondence? Was it her? Hanging back while he strode ahead, she surreptitiously sniffed at her blouse, relieved when the lilac-infused washing soap was the only scent she detected. It was a rather humid day, after all, and he’d been very close.
If it wasn’t an offending odor, was it something she’d said?
Oh, no. She stopped in her tracks. Had he glimpsed the truth in her eyes? The secret she worked so hard to keep hidden?
* * *
Tom