She didn’t know what she looked like. What an idiot he was, not to have realized she’d need to see her face. “There’s no mirror in the bathroom.”
“But when you shave—”
“I don’t need a mirror to shave.” He didn’t need to look at her, either, when he talked to her. So he didn’t. “There’s a mirror in the pickup. I’ll take you out there. But I’ll let you be alone to look. I won’t intrude.”
“Seth,” she said, sounding as if she was about to cry. He felt like more of a fool than ever. He should have anticipated this. “Oh, Seth,” she said again, “do your scars bother you that much?”
His gaze jerked back to her.
Her lips trembled into a smile. “I’m sorry. I guess you don’t like to discuss it, but learning that you don’t have a mirror in your house, well…” She lifted her hand and touched him on the left side of his face.
He couldn’t move. He tried, he could have sworn he tried to move, but her fingers were kitten-soft. Then she moved. Drew closer. And brushed her lips across his cheek in a gentle kiss.
He carried her out to the pickup. As they crossed the porch, Rocky sighed a gusty canine sigh and heaved herself to her feet. She’d assigned herself two jobs when she moved in with Seth last month: chasing deer and rabbits away from his gardens, and accompanying him whenever he went outside. She obviously didn’t consider advanced pregnancy reason enough to shirk her duties.
Sophie gave him a hard time. She wanted to walk, but he pointed out how muddy the ground was, how she might slip, and how he was already carrying her and had no intention of putting her down, so she might as well quit being so bossy and relax.
“Me, bossy? You’ve got to be kidding. You’re the one who’s studying with the Terminator School of Nursing.”
She went on to explain to him exactly how bossy he was as he and the dog skirted the biggest puddle, and he nodded agreeably. Her fingers still clutched at his shirt too tightly, but the hint of panic fluttering around behind her eyes had eased off as soon as she started arguing.
He knew just how frightening it could be, having to face your image in a mirror for the first time. Of course, her situation wasn’t like his had been, but the fear might be similar.
He opened the pickup’s door and slid her onto the seat. “It’s dirty,” he said apologetically. “I use it to haul stuff.”
“That doesn’t matter.” Her tone was as absent as her straight-ahead gaze, and she still clutched his shirt.
“I’ll let you be alone now,” he said, and patted her hand to remind her that he couldn’t leave until she turned him loose.
“I’ve changed my mind,” she said suddenly.
He waited.
“I don’t want you to leave me alone.” She looked at him. “Stay with me?”
In answer he gently scooted her over and sat down behind the steering wheel.
She took a deep breath, reached for the rearview mirror and angled it toward her.
Seth tried not to watch her. She might have changed her mind about doing this alone, but that didn’t mean she wanted to be staied at. He bent and scratched Rocky behind the ears, and he waited. But Sophie was quiet for so long he had to look.
She held her head tipped so she could study the left side of her face, where the scabbed-over scratches made ugly tracks. Her fingers traced those scabs anxiously.
“They’re pretty shallow,” he said gently. “It may take them awhile to fade completely, but they shouldn’t scar.”
Her head jerked toward him. “Seth, I didn’t mean to—”
“No one wants to be scarred. Especially not a beautiful woman.”
Her eyebrows went up in two surprised half circles as if she didn’t believe him when he called her beautiful. She shook her head slightly and looked back into the mirror. “I don’t think I’m forty yet, do you?”
“I don’t think you’re thirty yet,” he said dryly.
She sighed. “I guess I’m finished staring at myself.”
She was quiet while he carried her back inside, not chattering and smiling. He was sure he liked it better that way. If she’d stay quiet he could pretend she wasn’t here.
When he bent to set her back in the bed, her arms tightened around his neck briefly. And she did it again. Kissed him, right on his scarred cheek.
“Thank you, Seth,” she whispered, and turned him loose.
The next day Seth still felt that kiss. Both kisses.
Bright, blue-lit skies shone down on the scrub oaks that staggered up the slopes surrounding his small valley and the cabin he’d built after leaving the hospital almost two years ago. The radio weatherman said another front was moving in, but it was supposed to miss this area. The skies should be clear for days.
Sophie rebelled.
He’d managed to ignore her yesterday by working in the south garden and the drying shed for hours, something he’d needed to do anyway if he didn’t want his harvest to date of seeds to go to waste. She’d pestered him with questions last night. Not that he’d minded telling her about his gardens. They weren’t that big a deal, after all. The world wouldn’t be a different place if he did manage to breed a commercially useful Mexican persimmon. So what if he’d taken a few courses? It was just a hobby, like he told her.
Apparently Sophie had no intention of letting him ignore her that way today. The sun was bright, the sky was blue, and she wanted out.
At lunchtime Seth gave in. The blasted woman wasn’t going to stay still and rest, and he couldn’t have her scaring him again like she had yesterday. So he helped her out onto the porch, where they had sandwiches.
Of course, after they finished eating, she was still convinced she wasn’t sleepy.
Rocky lay on her scrap of blanket at the south end of the porch. Seth sat on one side of the old table he’d found in an abandoned shack near Ridgemore last year. Sophie sat on the other side in the big rocker he’d brought out for her, a pillow beneath her bottom and a smaller one behind her head. A quilt covered her legs, at his insistence. The scabbed-over stripes on her cheek faced him when she glanced at Rocky. This afternoon she wasn’t smiling at Seth. She was grinning.
And winning. “Gin,” she said, laying her cards down on the weathered table, where she had been trouncing Seth at cards for the past two hours.
Fool woman, getting all excited about a game of cards. He made a disgusted noise. “You’re an obnoxious winner. I should have insisted on Scrabble.”
“You didn’t want to take advantage of me,” she said smugly. “I have a head injury, after all. Scrabble might be too hard on me.” She tipped her head, trying to see the scores he was adding up. Sunlight tangled in the different shades of blond in her hair. “How much do you owe me now?”
“Sixty-seven thousand, five hundred dollars,” he said dryly. “But wait until you see the medical bill I’m sending you. I hope your insurance is paid up.”
“No problem.” Her smile tilted some before she got it straightened. “We’ve agreed I’m rolling in money, right? My clothes, my watch, all my possessions look pretty high dollar.” Her hand went to her throat, where the locket gleamed, golden. “Even if my insurance isn’t paid up, I’ll take care of my debts.”
Maybe she wasn’t as unfazed by her lack of memory as she seemed. She kept touching that locket. “I’ve got a clumsy tongue, haven’t I?”
“You