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“It’s also customary to offer a word of gratitude when a neighbor shows you a kindness.”
“Now what the hell are you talkin’ about?”
“That language is not welcome in my schoolhouse.”
“We’re not in the schoolhouse, missy.”
“We’re right outside the door, and you may refer to me as Miss Blackburn or ma’am. Not missy.”
Mackenzie blew out a breath and shook his head. “I mean it, ma’am. Stay out of my business.”
He placed his hat firmly on his head and turned to leave. A waft of spicy male scent drifted over Ruth. Clean and woodsy, fresh and manly. She exhaled, clearing her mind. So he smelled good. He wasn’t the first man to ever smell good.
“Tell me, Mr. Mackenzie,” she said to his retreating back, “did you enjoy the chicken pie?”
* * *
Did he enjoy the chicken pie? The words pounded into Garth’s ears. Best damned chicken pie he’d ever tasted. Better than Lizzie’s. Even better than his ma’s. How was it some man hadn’t snatched up Miss Ruth Blackburn? The lady was wasting her talents in a schoolhouse. She should be cooking for a family, keeping a husband’s bed warm at night.
The thought sliced through his belly as he turned around and faced her solid stance. She sure was pretty. Those eyes sparkled as vibrantly up close as he’d imagined, with dark lashes as long as he’d seen. And that slender body. Damnation, she was the perfect length to press against him in all the right places. When his groin tightened, he erased the image from his mind.
Enticing though she was, Ruth Blackburn hadn’t had any business coming into his home, taking over his daughter’s chores. And she sure as hell didn’t have any business telling him he was neglecting his daughter.
He ought to tell her he’d fed the damned pie to his pigs. He was a lot of things, but he was no liar. Grudgingly, he opened his mouth to speak. “Yes, we liked the pie.”
Her pretty pink lips curved into a saucy grin. There went his groin again.
“I’m pleased you enjoyed it. Truly I am.”
Garth sucked in a breath. Her smile was something out of heaven itself. “We are obliged, ma’am.”
“Now that wasn’t so difficult, was it?”
Difficult? He’d had to force the words from his throat. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d uttered them. Of course, he hadn’t had reason to. Nothing had happened in the recent past that was worthy of his thanks. Luckily, he didn’t have to answer, because she started talking again. Confound it, the woman liked the sound of her own voice.
“Will I see Mary Alice in school today?”
“Mary Alice is done with school for the year. She’s needed at the farm.”
“Oh. I see. Well, why don’t you come in for a moment, then. I’ll write down a few things to keep her busy over the summer. I don’t want her falling behind when school starts up again in the fall.”
Before he could reply, she turned and whisked into the schoolhouse. He had no choice but to follow.
By the time he reached her desk, she had donned a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles and was scribbling notes on a piece of linen stationery. Expensive linen stationery. A gift from a suitor? Of course, it had to be. A schoolteacher couldn’t afford such a luxury, and neither could Garth. Good thing he didn’t plan on courting a woman any time soon.
She stood and handed him the cream-colored paper. “I’ve written down some work Mary Alice should do in her speller and reader. I’ve also taken the liberty of recommending a few books she might like. I have them all in my personal library, so she’s welcome to borrow them any time.”
Garth perused the list. Charles Dickens. Jules Verne. Louisa May Alcott. Who were these people?
“You’ll see I’ve recommended Little Men. I’m assuming she’s already read Little Women. My fourth reader class read it earlier this year. But since Mary Alice
is fairly new to my classroom, she may not have read it yet. In which case, she should read Little Women before Little Men. Dickens may be a little difficult for her yet, but she’s a fine reader, Mr. Mackenzie. You should encourage her gift. All other learning is dependent on reading, and she has a true aptitude for it.”
Mary Alice liked to read? And she was good at it? News to him. Of course, the only book he had at home was the Bible, and he never opened that one. It was Lizzie’s.
“I hope you don’t think I’m sticking my nose in where it doesn’t belong, Mr. Mackenzie, but I’m worried about Mary Alice. You know she nearly fainted the other day, and yesterday when I stopped by your house—”
“It’s the heat,” Garth said.
