Henry shoved a dirt clump in his little mouth, then cried in protest.
“Silly rabbit,” Macy cooed while hefting the baby onto her hip. “It might look like nice, brown chocolate, but that dirt’s not quite as sweet, is it?”
She marched toward the cabin. “I hate to be a bother, but would you mind if I used your kitchen sink so I can wash out Henry’s mouth?”
Wiley struggled not to growl. “Help yourself.”
“Thanks. You’re too kind.” Her blown kiss only heightened his frustration.
While Henry roared at the indignity of having his mouth cleaned, Macy sang to the infant and hugged him and assured him everything would soon be all right. And it was. And when all that remained of his ordeal were his tear-stained cheeks and the occasional shuddering huff, the baby’s smile returned.
“He’s a charmer,” Wiley couldn’t help but note.
“Just like his momma?” Macy winked.
“Cocky much?”
“Only with smart-mouthed cowboys.”
Maybe it was the whiskey making him mellow, but he couldn’t hide his half smile. “You are something else. A sassy firecracker of a girl who drove me nuts, and now that you’re all woman, not a damned thing has changed.”
“Language,” she warned. “And thank you—I think.”
“You’re welcome—I think.” The overalls she wore were as kooky as her hair. The red long johns top clashed, yet somehow managed to only make her freckles and ample female curves pop. As a woman, the mischievous girl in her shone through, but she possessed an intriguing, all-grown-up feminine appeal from which he couldn’t look away. “Does your husband approve of you showing up on another man’s land first thing in the morning?”
Her smile faded. “Who said I was married?”
“Sorry,” Wiley said. “Guess since you have a baby, I assumed Henry has a dad nearby.”
“Yeah, well, he doesn’t.” When it came to discussing Macy’s ex, Rex, aside from the cute rhyme, there was nothing amusing about what he’d done. He not only cheated on her during her pregnancy, but left her two months after Henry’s birth. Macy’s best friend, Wendy, had warned her he was no good, but Macy had refused to listen. They hadn’t spoken since.
“Hey, I didn’t mean to start anything.” He bowed his head, and for the first time since their unlikely reunion, seemed genuinely affected by something she’d said. “I was just making conversation.”
“It’s not a problem. Talking about it makes me sad. I’m generally a happy person, and...” Her voice cracked, but she refused to give Rex any more power to darken her life. She swiped tears from her cheeks, then kissed Henry’s dirt-smudged forehead. “Anyway, thanks for letting me use the sink. I’ll finish in the garden and leave you on your own to do whatever it is you do.”
“Macy, wait.” She’d walked past him only to get a jolt when he reached out and touched her arm. Their contact had been fleeting, yet each individual fingerprint scorched through her thin shirt. She’d given him up such a long time ago, but her body remembered what her heart had tried to forget. When he’d left for the Navy, announcing he had no plans of ever coming back, she’d still been in high school and forced herself to move on. “Sorry I’ve been such a hard-ass.”
“It’s okay.” She didn’t want this attraction to him. Moreover, she didn’t understand it. Her father cautioned her to keep her distance from Wiley, but the part of her that had shared seemingly endless summers with him on this very land found it awfully hard to stay away. “Henry’s dad cheated on me. I had had a tough pregnancy, and we weren’t...together...for a while.”
“That doesn’t give a man the excuse to step out.” Was that alcohol on Wiley’s breath? “If anything, you having a rough time should have brought you closer.”
“Please, stop.” For some crazy reason, she found it easier to be with Wiley when he was salty. This new and improved kinder—possibly drunk—version knocked her off balance. “I’m over it and I suppose, in retrospect, if I’d have paid more attention to Rex’s needs, I wouldn’t be a single mom now.”
“You know how when we were kids, I used to razz you about everything from your shortness, to talking too much, to the color of your hair?”
“Yes. But how is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“Hear me out. The point I’m trying to get at is that as annoying as you were, I still had—have—affection for you. You might be a pain in my you-know-what, but you’re mine, you know?”
“Oh, my God, you’re awful.” She left the shadow-filled living room in favor of occupying a rocker on the porch and plopped Henry onto her lap. “You’ve gone from telling me I’m stumpy and have ugly hair to calling me a pain in the rear.”
“You totally misunderstood what I was trying to say.” He’d limped after her, and leaned on the low porch rail in front of her chair. “Even though it’s been years since we’ve seen each other, I have fond memories. You’re the kid sister I never had.”
Yet another low blow. From the first day she’d met him when she’d been six years old, she’d suffered from a serious case of puppy dog adoration. On that day, she’d announced her plan to marry him. But now that she was grown, she realized he was nothing more than a neighbor—not even a particularly good one! If that was the case, why did her pulse quicken just being near him?
“Thank you for your help in the garden. The past few months have been tough. I didn’t mean to take my frustrations out on you. From here on, I guess we’ll just agree to keep our distance, and—”
“Why?” Macy asked.
“Excuse me?”
“Why should we make an effort to stay apart?” For some unfathomable reason, her breaths turned erratic from just asking the question. She’d meant it in a purely platonic way, yet the girl who’d crushed on Wiley as if he’d been a hunk straight off the cover of her coveted Teen magazines didn’t acknowledge that fact. Forging ahead even though her best course would probably be to hush, she said, “Think about it. You, me and Henry are all alone up here. Every day I struggle to care for the animals and garden and cook and still have time to spin my fleece and knit. You’re probably messing with the same chores. Think how much more efficient we’d both be if we did everything together—just like we used to when our grandparents made us muck stalls and weed their gardens.”
For a long time he was quiet, which made her wonder if she’d done the wrong thing in even making the suggestion.
“If you don’t think it’s a good idea,” she finally said, unable to take any more of his stony silence, “that’s okay. I mean, my feelings won’t be hurt.”
“Look, your idea has merit, and if I were in a different—”
“Forget I asked.” Because now that he was turning her down, Macy felt stupid—ridiculous, considering she shouldn’t have even asked him in the first place. But despite the brave front she put up for her parents, the truth about her daily existence was that she often felt starved for adult companionship. She hooked one of Henry’s curls with her pinkie finger. She loved being a mom, but sometimes she caught herself carrying on conversations with an eight-month-old and actually expecting him to answer. “Guess I’ll go ahead and finish planting, then be on my way.”
“I told you I’d do it.”