before bloomed in her mind, and her labored breathing continued. She looked away, down past the healthy bulge in his jeans to the safety of his knees. She realized then that he was carrying the pails.
“What have you been doing?” she asked, raising her eyes to his.
His lopsided smile tunneled into her chest, further shortening her breath. “What does it look like?”
“You … you’ve done the milking and gathered the eggs?” Her heart sank, for she’d hoped he hadn’t been that industrious.
“And fed the chickens and the horses. Anything I’ve missed?” There was a sarcastic quality in his voice, as though he’d read her thoughts.
She turned away and went into the kitchen, anxious to busy herself with breakfast. She pulled out a slab of ham left for her by one of the neighbors and dropped it into a skillet. It hissed, sending steam into the air.
“Those are my chores. You didn’t have to do them.” She didn’t want to be grateful. She wanted a reason to send him packing.
He followed her into the kitchen, stopping to watch Marymae. “I figure I should earn my keep. What other reason would there be for keeping me on?”
She didn’t know whether it was excitement or disappointment that filled her stomach. Both emotions affected her by making her a bit nauseous. “Then … then, you’ll be staying?”
“Isn’t that what you asked me to do last night?” He took a cup off the table and poured himself coffee. “It sounded pretty clear to me.”
“That was before—” She stopped, reluctant to admit how he affected her. She wasn’t even willing to admit that to herself—at least not out loud.
“Before I got your hackles up?” he finished, a wicked grin flashing across his face.
She felt herself flush as she turned the meat. “Don’t be foolish.”
“You mean it didn’t bother you when I told you I slept in only a smile?”
She flipped the first batch of griddle cakes, knowing her blush had deepened because her face felt hot and her ears burned.
“I guess I have to learn that you’re more comfortable when you’re insulting me.” She spooned oatmeal into a dish and poured fresh cream into it.
“Is that what you think I’m doing? Insulting you?” Moving so he could see her, he studied her over the rim of his coffee cup.
She stirred Marymae’s cereal, making sure it was soupy and just lukewarm. “Well, isn’t it?”
An odd look crinkled the corners of his eyes and his lips hardened. He moved toward her, and she took a step back, threatened not only by him, but by her own feelings.
“Maybe I think you need to loosen up a little, Miss Julia. For a widow woman, you’re as tight as the spring on a watch.”
“W-Widow woman?” Julia couldn’t stop her astonished response.
A brief look of surprise crossed his face as well, but he recovered. “You are a widow, aren’t you?”
She swallowed the lump in her throat, attempting to compose herself. “What I am is no concern of yours, Mr. McCloud. From now on, I’m your boss, and that’s all you need to know.”
She watched him out of the corner of her eye, and could almost see the wheels turning in his head. Marymae’s parentage had obviously never been explained to him, and oddly, he hadn’t heard any of the rumors she knew were rampant in every community from Ygnacio to Martinez.
With a quick, nervous motion she flipped the griddle cakes onto a platter and plunked it onto the table. She knew that explaining Marymae would make Josette look bad, but she just didn’t feel like going into the whole, sordid story, even though it would exonerate her.
“What happened to the other two hands who were here before?”
Julia pulled Marymae to the table and tested the milky oatmeal on her tongue before feeding it to the baby. “They both disappeared the day after Papa died. I’ll never understand why, unless it was because Papa died on the mountain and they somehow felt threatened. They’re afraid of the mountain, you know.
“What have you been doing?” she asked, raising her eyes to his.
His lopsided smile tunneled into her chest, further shortening her breath. “What does it look like?”
“You … you’ve done the milking and gathered the eggs?” Her heart sank, for she’d hoped he hadn’t been that industrious.
“And fed the chickens and the horses. Anything I’ve missed?” There was a sarcastic quality in his voice, as though he’d read her thoughts.
She turned away and went into the kitchen, anxious to busy herself with breakfast. She pulled out a slab of ham left for her by one of the neighbors and dropped it into a skillet. It hissed, sending steam into the air.
“Those are my chores. You didn’t have to do them.” She didn’t want to be grateful. She wanted a reason to send him packing.
He followed her into the kitchen, stopping to watch Marymae. “I figure I should earn my keep. What other reason would there be for keeping me on?”
She didn’t know whether it was excitement or disappointment that filled her stomach. Both emotions affected her by making her a bit nauseous. “Then … then, you’ll be staying?”
“Isn’t that what you asked me to do last night?” He took a cup off the table and poured himself coffee. “It sounded pretty clear to me.”
“That was before—” She stopped, reluctant to admit how he affected her. She wasn’t even willing to admit that to herself—at least not out loud.
“Before I got your hackles up?” he finished, a wicked grin flashing across his face.
She felt herself flush as she turned the meat. “Don’t be foolish.”
“You mean it didn’t bother you when I told you I slept in only a smile?”
She flipped the first batch of griddle cakes, knowing her blush had deepened because her face felt hot and her ears burned.
“I guess I have to learn that you’re more comfortable when you’re insulting me.” She spooned oatmeal into a dish and poured fresh cream into it.
“Is that what you think I’m doing? Insulting you?” Moving so he could see her, he studied her over the rim of his coffee cup.
She stirred Marymae’s cereal, making sure it was soupy and just lukewarm. “Well, isn’t it?”
An odd look crinkled the corners of his eyes and his lips hardened. He moved toward her, and she took a step back, threatened not only by him, but by her own feelings.
“Maybe I think you need to loosen up a little, Miss Julia. For a widow woman, you’re as tight as the spring on a watch.”
“W-Widow woman?” Julia couldn’t stop her astonished response.
A brief look of surprise crossed his face as well, but he recovered. “You are a widow, aren’t you?”
She swallowed the lump in her throat, attempting to compose herself. “What I am is no concern of yours, Mr. McCloud. From now on, I’m your boss, and that’s all you need to know.”
She watched him out of the corner of her eye, and could almost see the wheels turning in his head. Marymae’s parentage had obviously never been explained to him, and oddly, he hadn’t heard any of the rumors she knew were rampant in every community from Ygnacio to Martinez.
With a quick, nervous motion she flipped the griddle cakes onto a platter and plunked it onto the table. She knew that explaining Marymae would make Josette look bad, but she just didn’t feel like going into the whole, sordid story, even though it would exonerate her.
“What happened to the other two hands who were here before?”
Julia pulled Marymae to the table and tested the milky oatmeal on her tongue before feeding it to the baby. “They both disappeared the day after Papa died. I’ll never understand why, unless it was because Papa died on the mountain and they somehow felt threatened. They’re afraid of the mountain, you know.
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