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“You think you know everything, don’t you?” Emily shot back. She reached into Sheila’s backpack and extracted two tubes; within each was an expandable fly rod.
“You need more than a pole to catch a fish!’
Emily shot him a look that said more clearly than words,Any idiot knows that much. Instead she said, “Give me a break, will ya?” Once again she reached into the open backpack and pulled out a small metal box full of hand-tied flies. She flipped open the lid and held it proudly open for Sean’s inspection. “Anything else?”
Sean smiled, exposing large dimples as he held his palms outward in mock surrender. “Okay, okay-so you know all about fishing. My mistake. Let’s go.” He looked toward Noah and Sheila sitting near the blanket to see if he had parental approval.
Sheila, who had been witnessing the ongoing discussion with quiet amusement, grinned at the blond youth. “Sure you can go. Your dad and I can handle the dishes-such as they are. Emily knows how to get to the creek; she and her grandpa used to go up there every evening.” Sheila’s smile turned wistful. “Just be sure to be back at the house before it gets too dark.”
Emily was already racing down the opposite side of the hill, her small hand wrapped tightly around the fly rod. “Come on, Sean. Get a move on. We haven’t got all day,” she sang out over her shoulder.
Sean took his cue and picked up the remaining pole and the box of flies before heading out after Emily.
Sheila began to put the leftover fruit and sandwiches into the basket. “You can help, you know,” she pointed out, glancing at Noah through a veil of dark lashes.
“Why should I when I can lie here and enjoy the view?” His blue eyes slid lazily up her body. He was lying on his side, his body propped up on one elbow as he studied her. As she placed the blanket into her backpack, his hand reached out to capture her wrist. “Explain something to me.”
The corners of her mouth twitched. “If I can.”
His dark brows blunted, as if he were curiously tossing a problem over in his mind, but his thumb began to trace lazy, erotic circles on the inside of her forearm. “Why is it that you and that precocious daughter of yours can handle my son when I can’t even begin to understand him?”
“Maybe you’re trying too hard,” Sheila answered. She bit into an apple and paused when she had swallowed. “Do you really think that Emily’s precocious?”
“Only when she has to be.”
“And when is that?”
“When she’s dealing with Sean. He’s a handful.”
Sheila rotated the apple in her hand and studied it. “She’s never had to deal with anyone like Sean before.”
Noah seemed surprised. “Why not?”
Sheila shrugged dismissively. “All of my friends have children just about Emily’s age. Some are older, some younger, but only by a few years. The winery’s pretty remote and she hasn’t run into many teenagers. That might be because they tend to avoid younger kids.”
“Certainly you’ve had baby-sitters.”
Sheila shook her head, and the sunlight glinted in reddish streaks on her burnished curls. “Not many,” she explained, tossing the apple core into the trash. “I usually trade off with my friends, and when that doesn’t work out, there’s always Marian.”
“Marian?”
“Jeff’s mother. Emily’s grandmother.”
Noah’s thumb ceased its seductive motion on her inner wrist. “Right,” he agreed, as if he really didn’t understand. He stood up abruptly and dusted his hands on the knees of his jeans. A dark scowl creased his forehead. As if dismissing an unpleasant thought, he shook his head and let out a long gust of wind. “You’re still very attached to your ex-mother-in-law, aren’t you?” he observed.
Sheila jammed the cork back in the wine bottle and stashed it in the backpack. “I suppose so,” she said. “She’s Emily’s only living grandparent.”
“And that makes her special?”
“Yes.”
Noah snorted his disagreement as he picked up his pack and the light basket.
“Marian Coleridge is very good to Emily and to me. She adores the child, and just because Jeff and I split up doesn’t mean that Emily should have to sacrifice a good relationship with her grandmother.”
“Of course not,” was Noah’s clipped reply.
“Then why does it bother you?”
