mouth.
She edged away from him. "Er, no thanks."
"It'll cool you off pretty good, too." And that was all the warning she got before he upended the water over her head.
She stifled a shriek, and with speed that surprised even her, she responded in kind, throwing a handful of water at his chest. Laughter burst out of him, a rich, infectious sound that made her laugh as well.
Her laugh became a shriek, as he scooped her into his arms, holding her just like a baby. Caught utterly off guard, all Sara could do was to throw her arms around him.
Holding her aloft was obviously an effortless feat for him. Strength and heat surrounded her, making her want, irrationally, to melt into him. She glanced toward Kendal, who had stopped to gawk at them. "Put me down," she requested with reluctance.
But Chase still held her captive. His gaze had fallen to her lips, and his smile had been replaced by something far more focused.
"Put me down," she repeated, more seriously.
With a tightening of his jaw, he dropped one arm, and her feet slid back into the water. He removed his other arm from around her back. "I wouldn't hurt you, Sara," he muttered.
"I know that," she reassured him.
But he was already turning away, snatching up the saw he'd left on the shore. He abandoned her with the water swirling coldly around her calves and her heart feeling empty in her chest.
What the hell did I expect? Chase berated himself. He'd gone and told her what he did for a living because he wanted honesty between them. Did he really think she'd just shrug her shoulders and tell him no big deal.
How could she? She'd never been in his shoes. She hadn't traveled the crossroads and byways that had led him to where he was today. God forbid that she ever walk through that valley of death and despair.
But she was drawn to him, in the same inexplicable way that he was drawn to her. He'd been taught that honesty was the best policy between friends, which was what they'd become. Only, in this case, it was serving as a wedge.
Fine. He couldn't balance on the beam of friendship for long, anyway—not when he'd rather have Sara as a lover, which was wishful thinking anyway. Even if she was attracted to him, she was way too much of a lady to have sex for pleasure's sake. And that was the only reason Chase ever had sex.
"Whatcha got, Ken?" he asked, tamping down his frustration.
Kendal rubbed the knob growing out the side of the largest cedar tree. "I want this bump," he said.
"You got it." For the next five minutes, Chase directed his energy toward sawing the bump off the tree. "When you take something from the earth, you need to leave a gift," he said, imparting to Kendal the wisdom of his Creek ancestors.
Kendal patted down his pockets. "All I have is an old Indian penny that I found in the barn."
"Leave it here," Chase instructed.
Kendal left the penny balancing on a knobby root.
With one last glide of his saw, the lump fell into Chase's hand. He passed it to Kendal, not letting go until the boy looked at him. "I want you to handle this wood before you cut into it. Feel it with your eyes closed. Don't whittle at all, until it tells you what it wants to be."
"I won't," Kendal swore, his eyes so similar to Sara's that Chase's stomach tightened.
"And don't whittle on your way to Texas," Chase added, on a sterner note, "or you'll cut yourself again."
The reminder that they were leaving soon cast a shadow over Kendal's face. Chase felt for him. He understood the grip the ranch had on a boy's heart.
"Can I come back and visit?" Kendal inquired.
"I won't be here," Chase reminded him. "I've got a job to get back to." The reality of his reenlistment had never seemed so harsh.
"Come on," he said, catching himself from brushing a twig off Kendal's flattop. "Let's go show your mama what you've got."
Chapter Eight
The familiar crowing of a rooster roused Sara to a sky the color of a ripe persimmon. Beyond the faded curtains at Marileigh's window, a mockingbird
She edged away from him. "Er, no thanks."
"It'll cool you off pretty good, too." And that was all the warning she got before he upended the water over her head.
She stifled a shriek, and with speed that surprised even her, she responded in kind, throwing a handful of water at his chest. Laughter burst out of him, a rich, infectious sound that made her laugh as well.
Her laugh became a shriek, as he scooped her into his arms, holding her just like a baby. Caught utterly off guard, all Sara could do was to throw her arms around him.
Holding her aloft was obviously an effortless feat for him. Strength and heat surrounded her, making her want, irrationally, to melt into him. She glanced toward Kendal, who had stopped to gawk at them. "Put me down," she requested with reluctance.
But Chase still held her captive. His gaze had fallen to her lips, and his smile had been replaced by something far more focused.
"Put me down," she repeated, more seriously.
With a tightening of his jaw, he dropped one arm, and her feet slid back into the water. He removed his other arm from around her back. "I wouldn't hurt you, Sara," he muttered.
"I know that," she reassured him.
But he was already turning away, snatching up the saw he'd left on the shore. He abandoned her with the water swirling coldly around her calves and her heart feeling empty in her chest.
What the hell did I expect? Chase berated himself. He'd gone and told her what he did for a living because he wanted honesty between them. Did he really think she'd just shrug her shoulders and tell him no big deal.
How could she? She'd never been in his shoes. She hadn't traveled the crossroads and byways that had led him to where he was today. God forbid that she ever walk through that valley of death and despair.
But she was drawn to him, in the same inexplicable way that he was drawn to her. He'd been taught that honesty was the best policy between friends, which was what they'd become. Only, in this case, it was serving as a wedge.
Fine. He couldn't balance on the beam of friendship for long, anyway—not when he'd rather have Sara as a lover, which was wishful thinking anyway. Even if she was attracted to him, she was way too much of a lady to have sex for pleasure's sake. And that was the only reason Chase ever had sex.
"Whatcha got, Ken?" he asked, tamping down his frustration.
Kendal rubbed the knob growing out the side of the largest cedar tree. "I want this bump," he said.
"You got it." For the next five minutes, Chase directed his energy toward sawing the bump off the tree. "When you take something from the earth, you need to leave a gift," he said, imparting to Kendal the wisdom of his Creek ancestors.
Kendal patted down his pockets. "All I have is an old Indian penny that I found in the barn."
"Leave it here," Chase instructed.
Kendal left the penny balancing on a knobby root.
With one last glide of his saw, the lump fell into Chase's hand. He passed it to Kendal, not letting go until the boy looked at him. "I want you to handle this wood before you cut into it. Feel it with your eyes closed. Don't whittle at all, until it tells you what it wants to be."
"I won't," Kendal swore, his eyes so similar to Sara's that Chase's stomach tightened.
"And don't whittle on your way to Texas," Chase added, on a sterner note, "or you'll cut yourself again."
The reminder that they were leaving soon cast a shadow over Kendal's face. Chase felt for him. He understood the grip the ranch had on a boy's heart.
"Can I come back and visit?" Kendal inquired.
"I won't be here," Chase reminded him. "I've got a job to get back to." The reality of his reenlistment had never seemed so harsh.
"Come on," he said, catching himself from brushing a twig off Kendal's flattop. "Let's go show your mama what you've got."
Chapter Eight
The familiar crowing of a rooster roused Sara to a sky the color of a ripe persimmon. Beyond the faded curtains at Marileigh's window, a mockingbird
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