LITMIR.BIZ

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had left on Jase, she reflected with regret, noting the devotion with which he gazed down upon his wife and remembering the bitterness of his expression when he’d snapped his fingers, demonstrating the quickness of her passing. That he’d loved his wife was obvious in the gesture. That he still harbored resentment, maybe even anger over her loss was even more obvious.

      Pensive, she moved on to the laundry room, stuffed the dirty linens into the washing machine, then headed outside with a basket loaded with those she’d already washed. The warmth of the sun and the sound of birds singing in the centuries-old oak tree at the corner of the backyard chased her concerns for Jase and his family from her mind and drew a cheerful smile. Humming an accompaniment to the birds’ warbled songs she drew a sheet from the basket, caught it by its corners and clipped it to the clothesline, then reached inside the basket for another.

      “We have a clothes dryer.”

      Annie jumped, then sagged weakly, clutching the damp sheet against her chest as she turned to frown at Jase. “You’ve got to quit doing that,” she scolded.

      “Doing what?”

      “Sneaking up on me like that.”

      He lifted a shoulder. “Wasn’t sneaking. Was on my way to the house.” He gestured to the sheet she still held against her chest. “Thought I ought to let you know we have a clothes dryer and save you the trouble of hanging the sheets on the line.”

      She huffed a breath as she turned. “I know there’s a clothes dryer,” she replied, thinking of the mountains of dirty laundry she’d washed since her arrival in his home. She plucked a clothespin from the line and clipped it over the sheet, securing it in place. “I just happen to prefer sun-dried linens.”

      He lifted an indifferent shoulder. “It’s your back.”

      “Yes, it is,” she agreed and squatted down beside the basket to dig through the remaining linens for the matching pillowcases to hang. “And speaking of my back, would you mind if I strained it a little more by cleaning out the garden and planting a few vegetables?”

      When he didn’t respond immediately, she glanced up and found that he’d turned and was staring at the garden plot, his eyes narrowed, his jaw set in a hard line. Seeing the slow bob of his Adam’s apple, she quickly rose. “If you’d rather I didn’t—”

      He shook his head and walked away. “Do what you want with it,” he muttered.

      She stared after him, wondering what it was about her request that he found so upsetting.

      Still puzzling over Jase’s strange reaction to her request to plant a garden, Annie whacked at the weeds choking the small piece of ground. She’d cleared a space about three feet by three feet when the hairs on the back of her neck prickled. Sensing that she was being watched, she glanced up and saw Jase standing in the opening of the barn’s loft, shirtless, his hands braced high on the opening’s frame. Sweat gleamed on his muscled arms and chest and darkened the waist of his jeans.

      Though his hat shadowed his face, she felt the intensity of his gaze, the unmistakable heat in it. As he continued to stare, she drew a hand to the hollow of her throat, suddenly feeling exposed, as if he’d somehow managed to strip her of her clothing and left her standing naked in the garden.

      An awareness passed between them, something primitive and sexual that had Annie’s pulse pummeling her palm, her mouth going dry as dust. She wanted to look away…but found she couldn’t. She could only stare in slack-jawed fascination at the virile image he created standing high in the loft, one knee slightly bent, one hip cocked a little higher than the other. He looked so commanding, so utterly masculine, so bone-meltingly sexual. And when he dropped a hand to rub it lazily across the dark, damp hair on his chest, she closed her eyes, suddenly feeling weak, sure that she could feel the damp heat on her lips, taste on her tongue the salt from his skin.

      Anxious for another look, she opened her eyes, but he was already turning away. Stifling the moan of disappointment that rose, the sense of loss, she slowly caught up the hoe and began to chop half-heartedly at the weeds again, her movements sluggish now, her strength drained by the attraction that churned low in her belly.

      Her thoughts were so scattered, her senses so dulled, it took a moment for her to become aware of the rumble of the school bus. Straightening, she drew the hoe up, propped her hands on its handle and inhaled a deep, steadying breath, pushing back her lustful thoughts of Jase as she watched the bus near.

      It stopped in front of the house and the door folded back. Rachel, always seated at the front of the bus, came tumbling down the steps, dragging her book bag behind her, and headed straight for the house.

      “Hey, Rachel!” she called, lifting a hand in greeting. “Over here. How was school?”

      A grin spreading from ear to ear, Rachel raced toward the garden, waving a paper above her head. “Annie! Look! I made a hundred on my spelling test!”

      “Why, that’s wonderful, sweetheart!” Annie stepped from the garden and leaned the hoe against the low fence, then knelt and wrapped an arm around the girl’s waist, drawing her to her side. “And look,” she said pointing, “your teacher gave you a gold star, too.”

      “That’s ’cause my penmanship was so good.”

      “And it is,” Annie agreed, hugging the girl to her.

      “What’s for dinner?”

      Annie glanced up at the question and saw Tara headed her way, followed closely by Clay. She widened her smile to include the twins. “Dinner isn’t for a couple of hours, yet, but there are fresh vegetables in the refrigerator and some dip, if you’d like a snack.”

      Tara rolled her eyes and did a neat U-turn, heading for the house. “Rabbit food,” she muttered under her breath.

      Surprised by the teenager’s sour expression, Annie rose, staring after her.

      “Ignore her,” Clay said. “She’s in one of her moods.”

      “It certainly appears that way,” Annie replied, wondering if the mood was a carryover from the teenager’s brief but heated confrontation with her father that morning. “And how was your day?” she asked, turning to smile at Clay.

      “Okay.”

      “Kiss any girls?” she teased.

      He ducked his head, blushing, and chipped the toe of a boot against the ground. “Nah.”

      Annie laughed. “Well, there’s always tomorrow.”

      He glanced up at her, then quickly away, his blush deepening, then shifted his gaze to the garden. “What are you doing out here?”

      “Getting the soil ready to plant.” She glanced at the garden and sighed wearily, disappointed by the small amount of progress she’d made. “But it’s turning out to be a much bigger chore than I anticipated.”

      “Does Dad know you’re working in here?”

      “Well, yes,” Annie replied, puzzled by his question. “Why do you ask?”

      He shrugged and hitched his backpack higher on his shoulder. “No reason. It’s just that…well, nobody’s planted a garden since Mom died.”

      “Oh,” she murmured, understanding now why Jase had seemed so upset when she’d asked his permission to plant a garden. “I didn’t know.”

      Clay shrugged again. “No big deal. It’s just dirt.”

      Annie stared at the weed-clogged clods she’d managed to overturn, suspecting that, though the garden might be nothing more than dirt to Clay, it represented a great deal more to the boy’s father.

      Feeling the guilt nudging at her for the painful memories her request must have drawn for Jase, she shrugged it off and forced a smile as she turned to Clay. “Are you hungry?”

      He reared back and patted his stomach, grinning. “Starving.”

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