“How’d he do?” Antonio asked, his face full of innocence, though his mustache twitched as if he tried not to smile.
“He did well, as if you didn’t know.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Hmm, I don’t believe that for a moment. I know you were watching. You all were.”
“How can you say that?” Antonio asked. “We’ve been sitting here playing cards.”
Evie cocked an eyebrow and looked directly at Felicity. Unable to bear the direct stare, Felicity lowered her head, though her face glowed pink.
“It would probably be easier to play if Aunt Felicity could actually see the cards in her hand.”
Felicity turned a brighter shade of pink as she quickly flipped the cards so she could see them. A master of intrigue Felicity was not. She wore her emotions on her face for the world to see. She raised her eyes then shrugged her shoulders, her lips moving into a shy smile. “Are you angry, dear?”
“No, I’m not angry.” And that was the truth. She found it to be amusing that her trusted friends had fallen so easily into Lucy’s plan, were so willing to help it along. “I’m surprised you actually stayed inside. Just think how much easier it would have been to watch us if you were outside.” And with those words, she pushed through the swinging kitchen door, smothering the chuckle that built in her chest, and rushed up to her room to splash some cold water on her face.
CHAPTER 10
Jake removed his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow, put his hat back in place and picked up the pitchfork. Out of all the chores he performed, this one was by far the worst. Mucking out the barn was only the first step in this particular job…after loading up the wheelbarrow, he had been instructed to add the straw mixed with manure to the growing compost heap on the other side of the house. It was honest work, but the odor was sometimes unbearable. Even tying a handkerchief around the bottom half of his face didn’t help. The smell didn’t seem to bother the cats—all three of them—and the dog, who sat lined up, just watching him.
He’d much rather be in the riding ring, having his daily lesson. He was enjoying those hours spent in the saddle under Evie’s tutelage. She was patient and kind, her smile lovely as he progressed. He thought he was doing well—he certainly felt more comfortable —and she agreed, though Clementine still made a habit of ignoring his commands every now and then so she could wander over to Evie, watching from the fence.
He scraped the last of the manure from the wheelbarrow and added it to the top of the heap. That part wasn’t so bad. It was the next part that made his stomach roil—mixing the new withthe old. Sweat made his shirt stick to his back and frankly, his arms hurt, the muscles screaming in protest. One of the men he bunked with said the pain would go away…it was just that he’d never used those muscles in that particular way before. Shoveling manure was much different than boxing.
Still, he could see the rewards. The compost fed the vegetable garden. Neat rows of corn, beans, potatoes, melons, bright red tomatoes, and other edibles he couldn’t identify with just a glance extended into the near distance, the leaves and stalks vibrant green against the darkness of the soil. It was the same with the flowers Evie carefully cultivated. The compost did good things for the roses. He’d never seen blooms so bright, or so many, but then, he had little experience with flowers aside from picking out a bouquet from the little stand on the corner near his home in San Francisco.
Done with the smelly task, Jake wiped the sweat from his brow again, then grabbed the empty wheelbarrow by the handles and began pushing it toward the barn on the other side of the house. The animals followed, as they always seemed to do, though the dog moved a bit slowly.
A wonderful aroma wafted by from the open window, tantalizing him. Something was baking in the kitchen. Bread? Pie? He couldn’t tell. His stomach growled. Maybe Grub had something in the ice box, leftovers from supper the night before he could munch on. Supper seemed a long way away at this point.
As he passed by the garden, he heard Evie’s voice—low and throaty—sultry, like a siren’s call. Answering that call, he stopped and glanced over the row of waist-high rose bushes that formed the border between the garden and the barnyard. He smiled as he took in the sight before his eyes.
Evie sat in one of the chairs on the lawn, shaded at this time of day by the awning over the patio. The children—all of them—were spread out on a blanket at her feet, even the youngest, a baby he’d seen before, but didn’t know. She had their complete attention as she read to them. The children didn’t move at all, not even Toughie, who never seemed to sit still. On more than one occasion, he’d caught the toddler running away from his mother, naked as the day he was born, his giggles filling the air, his chubby little legs carrying him much farther than one would think possible.
He didn’t recognize the story, but that didn’t matter. It wasn’t so much the words that enthralled him, as it obviously did the youngsters, but her voice. He took a step closer, slipping through the rose bushes to stand there, listening. The cats and dog followed but didn’t go farther, as if waiting for him, although Flower butted her head against his leg.
She closed the book at what he assumed was the end of the chapter. “All right, upstairs with you. Time for a nap.”
The only girl in the group, Savannah, pouted. He expected nothing less of her. She knew exactly what she wanted, as she’d told him several times. Inquisitive and bright, she had quite a lot of opinions—and even more questions—for a six-year-old. And she adored herTiaEvie. “I’m too old for naps,” she huffed, obviously displeased.
Evie laughed, that low sultry voice filling his head, making his body respond as much as his heart and soul. “One day you’ll wish you had time to take a nap,mi amor. Take them while you can.” She handed the book to the girl. “Now, bring this inside with you, please.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The girl huffed again, but took the book, and scrambled to her feet. The other children followed suit, leaving only the baby still on the blanket. “I’m still too old for naps!” she called out as she led the boys—Toughie by the hand—into the house and slammed the door behind her.
Evie shook her head then stood and reached down to pick up the baby, holding him close. The boy gurgled and the tone of her voice changed as she almost sang to him, like she’d sung for Spitfire not so long ago. “She’s stubborn like herTiaLucy, isn’t she, Ramón?”
The baby laughed, obviously as captivated with her voice as he was. Ramón reached for the gold hoop hanging from her ear. She grabbed his hand and brought it to her mouth, then proceeded to makenum numnoises against his fat fingers. The baby giggled.
The action, as well as the baby’s reaction, made Jake burst out in laughter. He’d never seen anyone do that before, but then, he had no experience with babies. Was that normal? Had his own mother done that so long ago?
Evie swiveled her head in his direction, her face taking on a becoming blush. “Oh, Jake, you startled me.”
“My apologies. That was not my intention.” He took a few steps closer and caught the scent of her perfume. Or was it the roses he smelled? Sometimes, it was difficult to tell. “What were you reading to the children?”
“Around the World in 80 Daysby Jules Verne.”
His attention was diverted by the sight of the baby tugging on the buttons of her blouse, trying hard to manipulate the round pieces of ivory with his pudgy fingers. He snapped his attention back to her face. “I haven’t read that one.”
