Kiss Me Hello (Sweetest Kisses) by Grace Burrowes Page B

relief.
    “Yes.” He leaned back against the sink, looking incongruously domestic, a linen towel listing Scottish swear words over his shoulder. “The wind taken out of my sails, to see the place had been sold again, to see Daisy and Buttercup, to feel like we’d—like I had let them down by losing track of them. I’m not stupid, but I need time to figure out the things most other people take right in stride. Compared to my brothers, I’m slow.”
    Damn him for being able to put that into words, for being brave enough.
    “But you can cut right through situations that would stop everybody else,” Sid finished for him, because that was the other half of the syllogism of life at the social margins.
    “Pretty much.” Mac studied her, and must have seen the relenting in her eyes. “Truce?” He held out a big, callused, competent hand.
    Sid didn’t want to touch him, because if she did, all her mad would evaporate, and she might even feel some compassion for him.
    Some liking. For him, his hot chocolate, his lectures on proper nutrition, and for the grieving boy he’d been.
    He closed the distance for her, taking her hand and giving it a firm shake. “You’ll let me pay their board?”
    Well. End of sharing time.
    “How much?”
    He named a figure, no hesitation, and the amount was enough to make Sid wish he had eight other horses lurking on the back forty.
    “I’ll ask Adelia if that’s a fair price,” she said. “Luis has a lesson tomorrow, and she and Neils can tell me whether to agree to this.”
    “I understand. They might also be willing to have Luis do some weekend work for them, and reduce or eliminate the price of his lessons accordingly.”
    Of course, Sid had to look the gift horse in the mouth. “Why would they do that?”
    “Because I’ll tell them he works his butt off for the right motivation, and they always need help on weekends.”
    The slight undertone of regret was gone from his voice, and Sid was relieved to hear it go. Whatever the motivation, she did not like to see MacKenzie Knightley at a loss.
    “Luis is already thinking of asking the tenant farmer if he has any work for a teenage boy this summer,” Sid said.
    “You mean the guy who farms your land?”
    “His name is Hiram Inskip, and Luis says he lives over that way.” Sid gestured with her chin. “Who names a kid Hiram on purpose?”
    “I know him. He’s my brother James’s neighbor, and getting on. He also farms James’s land, and his own boys are grown and gone.”
    “Is there anybody you don’t know in this valley?” Sid got up to take her mug to the sink as a funny look crossed Mac’s features, a little amused, a little exasperated.
    “I don’t know the new people.” He shifted a couple of feet to the left, while Sid turned on the spigot. “With the exception of present company.”
    Mac was close enough that she caught a whiff of cinnamon and clove from him again, and had to stop herself from leaning closer. Cinnamon, clove, and something else, something absurdly enticing on a guy who stood nearly six and a half feet, and wore work boots, faded jeans, and a flannel shirt.
    Gay guys typically had the corner on the designer scents. Sid stopped that thought before it could wander any closer to admitting she missed her brother.
    “You get the saddest look in your eyes sometimes.” Knightley’s voice was soft, while he reached over and turned off the water. “Let me know if you’re keeping the horses. Otherwise, I’ll be putting up a load of fencing on James’s property.”
    “What about your own property?”
    “I have some acreage, but James is a horseman. Speaking of horsemen, I thought I’d spend some time with Luis this afternoon. He might enjoy learning to drive a team.”
    Not subtle. “ If I decide they can stay.”
    “Yes, ma’am. If you decide they can stay.”
    Mac’s eyes weren’t exactly dancing, but warmth lurked behind the solemn blue. Sid gave the spigot an extra twist and tried not