Karen Kirst - The Husband Hunt

“That’s right, I am,” she huffed. “And just because you don’t happen to agree with my decisions doesn’t mean they’re wrong.”

“While I agree we have different opinions about things, you can’t argue the fact that you’re flaunting clear-cut societal rules. Look around you—” he waved an impatient hand “—do you see any other young women arm wrestling? Engaging in spitting contests or tug-of-war games? Wrestling with grown men?”

Sophie lowered her gaze to the grass beneath her boot soles. She’d done all he’d said and more at one time or another. Not only did she enjoy a little friendly competition, she felt more comfortable around the guys. They didn’t judge her based on her appearance. Nor did they expect her to discuss the latest fashions and recipes or know how to quilt and then make fun of her when she didn’t.

“You don’t understand. You never have.”

“There you are.” Josh rounded the tree closest to them, his astute gaze bouncing between them. “Nathan, Pauline is wondering what happened to her escort.”

His expression shuttered. “I’m coming.”

Kate appeared a couple of steps behind, stylish in a forest-green outfit that made her skin appear dewy fresh. Today, her chocolate-brown mane had been tamed in a simple twist. “Sophie, how are you?”

“Just swell.”

“Nathan let me sample one of your sausages at lunch,” she said, her smile encompassing the two of them, “and it hit the spot. Your recipe is delicious. I have to have it.”

“Only one?” Josh winked at his wife. “Are you sure about that?”

Her cheeks pinked. “Well, maybe two. Or three. I wasn’t able to eat much breakfast, so I had to make up for the lack.”

Of their own accord, Sophie’s eyes slid to Kate’s midsection. Was that a slight bump? The dark material made it difficult to tell. When the happy couple announced last month that they were expecting, Sophie had wondered for the first time what it might be like to have a baby of her own. The prospect simultaneously intrigued and frightened the daylights out of her.

“The bacon didn’t sit well with her,” Josh explained.

“Maybe the baby doesn’t like bacon,” Sophie ventured, then blushed furiously when Nathan returned his attention to her. What an absurd thing to say. Muzzle, remember?

But Kate just laughed in delight and linked her arm through Sophie’s. “I think you may be right, dear Sophie. Why don’t you come sit with us? There’s ample space.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude.” Just what she’d envisioned for today—observing Nathan’s courting efforts up close.

“Nonsense.” Kate waved off her resistance “You’re practically family.”

With a sinking stomach, Sophie allowed herself to be led to where the O’Malleys had gathered. As Pauline watched their approach, a tiny crease appeared between her fine brows. Of course, she had a right to wonder what had taken Nathan from her side. Her greeting smile held a hint of bravery, however, and she pulled him into the conversation with his parents with ease.

Sophie held back. Where to sit?

Kate pointed to Nathan’s blanket. “There’s space there, Sophie. We’ve loaded up extra plates of food, so help yourself.”

Reluctantly she lowered herself on his other side, as close to the edge as possible without actually sitting on the grass. Although he was concentrating on Pauline’s words, tension bracketed his mouth. Unlike all the times before when she’d joined the O’Malleys, she now felt like an intruder. An interloper. Oh, this was a nightmare! But she couldn’t very well be rude and abandon Kate after she’d gone out of her way to include her, could she?

Grabbing a plate without taking stock of its contents, she ate quickly, not really tasting any one flavor. It could have been liver and onions, for all she noticed. Conversation swirled around her. Nathan shot her a couple of furtive glances, but he didn’t speak directly to her. As if she wasn’t worth talking to. That hurt.

They were just finishing up their meal when a shadow fell across their legs. Sophie lifted her head and promptly dropped her fork.

April Littleton, looking sweetly feminine in the flowing yellow dress she’d described in the mercantile yesterday, bore a plate between her hands as if it held the Queen of England’s crown. The spiteful gleam in her eyes put Sophie on guard.

“Hello, Sophie.” Her smile smacked of gloating superiority. “Nathan.” She completely ignored Pauline.

“Hi, April.” Nathan set aside his empty plate. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been a busy woman of late, I must admit. I made this dress especially for tonight. What do you think?”

“I, ah...” Clearly not expecting such a question, he scrounged for an appropriate response. Shot Sophie a help-me look, which she ignored. What could she do but wait April out? “It’s very nice.”

April batted her lashes, cherry-red lips widening into a wolf-in-sheep’s-clothing smile. “Why, you’re kind to say so. This isn’t all I’ve been busy making, though. This here is a special family recipe—my great-grandmother Bertha’s delicious cinnamon-apple pie. I heard apple was your favorite, so I brought you a slice.”

She extended the plate toward him, which he accepted with a slight nod.

“That’s thoughtful of you, April. Thank you.”

Of course he would be polite. He wouldn’t embarrass her by correcting her. It smarted that he had no such reservations when it came to Sophie.

She stared at the plate, feeling slightly queasy. The slice closest to her was the apple. But what was the other one? Was it too much to hope it wasn’t what she suspected it was?

She craned her neck to get a glimpse.

“I also brought you a piece of Sophie’s pie,” April tacked on with an innocent air. “I haven’t tried it yet, but I sure am eager to see what it tastes like, aren’t you?”

Chapter Seven

Something told him this already dismal outing was about to get worse. Much worse.

Beside him, Sophie fidgeted with nerves, tugging on the sleeves of her brown shirt, fiddling with the collar. And April’s too-cheerful demeanor rang false. By now, Pauline and his family were watching the exchange with interest.

Shooting Sophie a quizzical glance, he kept his voice low. “I didn’t realize you’d made a pie.”

“It was a spur-of-the-moment decision.”

One she regretted, judging by the way she was gnawing on her bottom lip, dread stalking her eyes. The pulse at the base of her slender throat jumped.

“What are you waiting for?” April’s silken voice prompted.

“Right.”

Dreading this almost as much as Sophie, he sank his fork into the fluffy layers of crust and soft apples and lifted it to his mouth. April hadn’t exaggerated. The blend of sweet fruit and spices melted on his tongue.

“I can understand why your family has held on to this recipe. It’s wonderful.”

Pauline leaned forward. “I like apple, too. I wish you’d brought me one, April.”

A flicker of annoyance dimmed her gloating pleasure, and she shot the blonde a look that suggested she get her own. “Now the rhubarb.”

Sophie inhaled sharply, but he didn’t look at her. Couldn’t.

Best to get this over with as quickly as possible. The pie didn’t look half bad, he mused as he forked a bite. Maybe Sophie would surprise them all.

Then again, maybe not.

The crust tasted doughy as if undercooked, and the rhubarb filling was so tart it made his jaw ache. He fought a grimace as he forced himself to chew quickly and swallow the offensive bite, blinking at the tears smarting his eyes.

“Drink,” he choked out.

Kate slapped her tea jar into his outstretched hand and he drank long and deep. He thanked her and she nodded, a line of concern between her brows.