Read Online Carol Ritten Smith by Stubborn Hearts - Free Book Online Page B

lunch to her other arm. “How was your harvest?” she asked, leaning ever so slightly to the right to center herself in his view.
    “Ah, da harvest vas gewd.”
    She liked the way he spoke. His accent had a sing song quality to it.
    “And yewr teaching? Dat is going vell?”
    “Yes,” Beth answered as her arm started to go numb. “The children are wonderful.”
    Lars nodded.
    One more minute and Beth would have no feeling at all in her arm. “I’d better put this inside now,” she said reluctantly, wishing she could get one more gaze into those blue pools of his, but Lars had moved to open the door.
    “Maybe you’ll buy my lunch and we can continue our conversation?” She blushed slightly, never having been so bold with a man before. Oh, but it would be wonderful to sit across from him as they ate!
    “Yah, I vood like dat.”
    • • •
    Tom sat with his back against the old maple in the schoolyard and watched with amusement as Miss Patterson ran back and forth between her place and the school. Sometimes she seemed more like one of her students than the teacher. But what could one expect considering she was so young.
    He peered up at the branches and studied the way the sunlight filtered through the canopy of coppery autumn leaves. He closed his eyelids, happily remembering the day he caught her trying to retrieve that fool hat. Hmm, all those ruffles under her skirt . They sort of reminded him of a huge bouquet of carnations.
    “I’ve been looking for you,” a soft feminine voice said.
    Tom opened his eyes. He scowled as Miranda Parsons settled herself beside him.
    “Brrr, it’s chilly today.” She hugged herself tightly and in doing so, squeezed her breasts together to enhance her already abundant cleavage. “I should have worn my cardigan.”
    A gentleman would have offered the lady his jacket, but Tom didn’t consider Miranda a lady so he felt no need to be a gentleman. Let her go inside if she was so cold.
    “Momma didn’t want me to come today. She says box socials are nonsense.” Miranda twirled her hair around her finger and brushed the ends against her cheek. “She’s so old fashioned. I think she was born in the wrong century. I mean, Papa died three years ago and she still wears black. Well, not me. I didn’t die. Don’t you think my crimson dress is pretty?”
    Tom said nothing, hoping she’d leave if he ignored her.
    She spread the flounces of her dress around her in a wide circle. “It would be tragic if some old pig farmer bought my lunch. He’d probably stink to high heaven and my delicious lunch would be ruined!” She pouted. “And I baked all my specialties. Why, even Widow Craig’s cooking won’t be as fine as mine this year.”
    Tom gritted his teeth.
    “Wouldn’t it be amazing if you bought my lunch? I wrapped it in a red checkered tablecloth so we could spread it under this tree and — oh my, I’ve let you know which one is mine. Shame on me!”
    Tom could see if anyone was going to leave, it would have to be him. As he stood, he said, “Actually, it is a shame you let that information slip, Miss Parsons. I wouldn’t feel right about bidding on your lunch now. Besides, I’m sure you’d rather share your food with some youngster closer to your own age.”
    • • •
    Inside, Beth set the Pickard lunch behind the curtained area and rubbed the feeling back into her arms. She whisked off the blanket just as Earl Betner, this year’s auctioneer, declared it was time to start the bidding. The adults were called in from outside, and the curtain opened.
    The men crowded forward, and the women moved to the back. Beth immediately spotted Tom among the men. He was taller and broader in the shoulders. She noted his dark hair had been freshly trimmed, all except for a small ducktail that curled over his starched white collar. He was likely the best-looking man here today.
    She gave herself a shake. What on earth was she doing, comparing him to other men? He could be the