The Husband Hunt (Smoky Mountain Matches) (14 page)

Shifting her gaze to the forest and the descending dusk, she nodded. “And who’s probably hungry, too.” With a sigh, she thrust out her hand. “Fine. Truce.”

Nathan wrapped his free hand around hers, unable to resist stroking the soft skin with his thumb. “Fine,” he rasped, struck by an impossible yearning to ease her closer, to caress her nape, her face.

What would it be like to kiss her without an audience?
an irrational voice prompted.
Enough.

This was nothing but age-old physical attraction. He wasn’t blind to the changes in his friend. Of course he would notice and be appreciative. That didn’t mean he could give in to it.

With reluctance, he released her. Cleared his throat. “One more thing. You know how you feel about discussing Lester? That’s how I feel about divulging my history with Landon. Can you understand that?”

Her brows pulled together, her blue eyes churning with speculation. “Something happened between you two. Something bad.”

An understatement. “Yes.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” She wasn’t going to press him?

Her stomach rumbled, and she grinned. Surprised him by linking her arm with his and tugging. “Will’s not the only one who’s starving around here. Let’s get going.”

Lecturing himself all the way, he allowed her to lead him to her cabin.

* * *

Will did not attempt to hide his enthusiasm. He whooped and hollered and did a quick jig.

Chuckling, Nathan ruffled the boy’s hair. Will was bright, sensitive at times, eager to please. As they crouched side by side at the stream, skinning and gutting the fish, it struck him that Sophie’s marriage would change things. He and Will wouldn’t have as much time to spend together. Her new husband would take the boy fishing and hunting, teach him the ways of farming.

He frowned. He didn’t even know if they’d stick around. Maybe they’d go live on her husband’s homestead.

Preoccupied, his knife slipped, slicing deep into his finger. He smothered an oath. Dropping the knife, he jerked his hand back before the blood dripped all over the fish.

“I’ll get Sophie!” Will bolted toward the cabin before he could stop him.

Fumbling for the handkerchief in his pocket, he covered the wound and yanked the material taut. He hoped it wasn’t deep enough to warrant stitches. Needles were for fabric, not human skin. He shivered.

What’s the matter?
a voice from the past taunted.
Not tough enough to handle the sight of blood?

Forehead growing damp, he shoved away the memories. He heard the door slam open, and then Sophie was skidding to a stop in front of him, face white but otherwise calm. Will tripped along behind her.

“What happened?”

“It’s nothing. A small cut, is all.”

She focused on his hand, held steady against his belly. “Let me see.”

As she peeled back the material, he trained his gaze on her hair. No need to risk making himself sick.

“It’s still bleeding,” she said matter-of-factly, replacing the blood-soaked handkerchief. “You’re going to need stitches. Do you want me to do it or would you rather I take you into town to see Doc Owens?”

“Neither.”

She pressed a hand against his lower back. “Come on, big guy,” she cajoled. “Let’s go get this over with. I’m known for my speed and precision. You won’t even have a scar.”

When she had him seated at her table, she flitted around the room gathering supplies. He watched her to keep his mind off the throbbing pain and the looming prospect of more.

“It’s better if you don’t watch,” she warned as she gently cleansed the site.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” he drawled, closing his eyes and homing in on her delicate scent, the whisper of her skirts and the slight pressure of her leg against his thigh as she worked.

When she inserted the needle, a rogue groan escaped. He locked his jaw and held his breath. To her credit, Sophie didn’t pause. She worked quickly and efficiently and had him sewed up in a flash.

His finger ached something fierce, but at least the worst part was over. But then he made the mistake of looking at it, the misshapen, angry-looking flesh. Images from long ago rose up to taunt him. And his stomach revolted. Lunging for the door, he made it to the side yard before casting up his accounts.

Walking back inside, he felt shaky and weak. And foolish.

Sophie watched him with large, compassion-filled eyes. “Are you okay?”

Sinking onto the sofa, he grimaced. “You’d think I’d be able to handle a little blood. I am a farmer, after all. For some weird reason, I can handle animal blood a sight better than human.”

She brought him a peppermint stick. When she smoothed his hair with a tender hand, Nathan’s heart kicked against his ribs. With that simple touch, she was letting him know she cared, that she was worried and hated to see him in pain. Gratitude and longing flooded his chest, confusing him. This wasn’t longing for her specifically...was it?

Were Josh and his sister-in-law right? Was it time he settled down, found himself a wife? Someone suitable. Someone like Pauline?

“Everybody has different tolerance levels. Just because you’re a tad squeamish doesn’t make you weak.” Easing down beside him, affection shone brightly in the sapphire depths of her eyes.

He swallowed hard. Battled against a sudden, crazy need to hold her. “I hope I didn’t ruin supper.”

Cocking her head, she said, “Why don’t I make fish stew instead? That might be easier on your stomach. I’ve already got the potatoes peeled, and it won’t take any time at all to chop up an onion and carrot.”

“That sounds good.” He broke the candy into two sections and popped one in his mouth.

She held up her hands. “I’m not making any promises.”

His stomach slowly settling, he chuckled. “As long as you don’t try to feed me any pie.”

A grin transformed her mouth. “Don’t worry, my pie-making days are behind me.”

Nathan was amazed at her calm demeanor, her take-charge attitude in the face of calamity and the tenderness in her treatment of him. He’d underestimated her, focused always on the things that drove him crazy instead of her strengths—her nurturing nature, her courage and indomitable strength, her loyalty and capacity for love.

Without thinking, he leaned close and cupped her jaw. She stilled, her gaze twining with his, sweet breath fanning across his mouth.

“You’re going to make some lucky man a fine wife, Sophie Tanner,” he murmured, his heart a jumble of confused emotions. Then, because it was all he would allow himself, he pressed his lips to her cheek. “My prayer is that you choose one worthy of you.”

Chapter Sixteen

W
eddings were the pits. Not only did Nathan have to wear a suit—a three-piece getup that hemmed him in and made his neck stiff—but he also had to sit in said suit for what seemed like hours while the preacher waxed poetic about everlasting love and commitment, the married women crying sentimental tears and single misses plotting how to land a groom of their very own.

For the life of him, he could not imagine himself up there, standing in front of God and the townsfolk, and pledging to honor and cherish his chosen bride. Those rogue thoughts he’d had at Sophie’s must have been the result of blood loss.

Today he’d made an exception to his no-wedding rule. Sophie was here somewhere and, despite his warnings, he wasn’t convinced she’d stay away from Landon.

Propped against the base of an elm, arms folded and one foot hooked over the other, he scanned the milling crowd. The reception for newlyweds Dan and Louise Kyker was in full swing. Guests chatted together in groups, eating wedding cake and sipping lemonade, the younger couples dancing to lively fiddle music while the older generation reclined on chairs set up on the lawn. Kids darted around, a few trying to sneak second helpings of cake.

April and her friends strolled past. When she spotted him in the shade, she waved, her smile both saucy and provocative. He nodded a response but didn’t return her smile, hoping it would deter her. He wasn’t in the mood for her games. Thankfully, she moved on.

Surveying the crowd again, he became impatient when he didn’t see Sophie. Where was she? He pushed away from the tree. Looked as though he was going to have to join the merriment if he wanted to find her.

“Nathan!”

A small, warm female launched herself against him, arms wrapping tightly around his neck.

“I’m so happy to see you!” she exclaimed, her words muffled.

White-blond curls tickled his chin. He grinned. “Megan.”

Aware now that it was his cousin accosting him, he wrapped his arms around her middle and lifted her off the ground. It had been at least six weeks since he’d seen her last. Married in July, she and her new husband had visited her eldest sister, Juliana, in Cades Cove before traveling down to New Orleans to spend time in Lucian’s hometown. Relieved she was finally home, safe and sound, he set her down and away from him to get a good look at her.

Aside from the new, stylish clothes and added sparkle in her baby blues, she looked pretty much the same. He tugged on a curl. “How is married life treatin’ ya, Goldilocks?”

Glancing over her shoulder at Lucian, who was deep in conversation with Aunt Alice and the twins, she turned back and flashed him a smile that hinted of secrets. “Fantastic. You should really consider trying it out for yourself.”

He ran a finger beneath his collar. The late-afternoon heat lingered in the air. “I told you before, I’m not in the market for a wife.”

“Someday the right girl will come along and change your mind.” Megan sounded confident. She squinted at the dancers. “Am I seeing things? That can’t be Sophie Tanner. Does she have a cousin we didn’t know about?”

Nathan followed her line of sight to where the musicians played beside the barn. There, standing apart from the dancers, was Sophie—breathtaking in a scoop-necked, two-piece lacy creation of pastel pink, cream and light blue. Frank was right beside her. Nathan had to admit they looked good together, Frank’s dark coloring complementing Sophie’s fair beauty.

“No cousin. Sophie, uh, underwent a transformation a few weeks back. Your sister is the one responsible.”

One pale brow winged up. “Nicole? Why would she—” She tapped her mouth. “Oh. Of course. It all comes back to her determination to get out of town. She’s quite put out with me that I didn’t take her with us to New Orleans.” She studied Frank and Sophie. “While I wouldn’t have paired them together, I must admit they make a handsome couple. Perhaps theirs will be the next wedding we attend.”

His heart squeezed uncomfortably. “Perhaps.”

Her smile faltered. “You don’t look happy. Why—”

She broke off, squealing as Lucian snuck up behind her and slid his arms around her waist. “You shouldn’t sneak up on me,” she chided playfully.

Shooting a grin at Nathan, Lucian bent his head and whispered in her ear. Something that made her blush.

Feeling like an intruder, Nathan averted his gaze, automatically seeking out Sophie. The sun’s rays shimmered in her upswept hair, the slight breeze teasing stray tendrils that framed her face. She looked as though she really wanted to dance.

“Hi, Nathan.” Pauline strolled in his direction, her brother Dex with her.

“Afternoon, O’Malley.”

“Dex.” He shook the other man’s hand. Pauline hung back, her smile a touch uncertain. Nathan nodded and smiled encouragingly. Apparently he’d wrongly attributed her with a practical outlook. Guessing from her manner, she must have construed his prior invitation to mean more than it had. He hated that he’d raised false hopes. “You’re looking well, Pauline.”

Dumb thing to say, O’Malley.

Her dark eyes sparkled anew. “Would you care to dance?” she asked hopefully.

Sensing Dex’s steady stare, Nathan extended his arm. “I’d love to.”

Joining the other dancers midsong, he spotted his cousin Jane dancing with Tom Leighton. The barbershop owner appeared to be cajoling her out of a bad mood. Unusual for sweet-tempered Jane. He hoped she kept Tom too busy to notice Megan and Lucian’s arrival. Seeing the happy couple would surely be hard on the rejected suitor.

Pauline squeezed his hand, pulling his attention back to her. “Megan is practically glowing with happiness. Married life suits her.”

He smiled. “I wasn’t confident in her choice at first, but I’ve since realized Lucian is the right man for her.”

Executing a turn, his gaze connected with Sophie’s. The haunting sadness in her eyes socked him in the gut. What could have caused such wrenching emotion? Quickly, she averted her face to address Frank.

His partner followed his line of sight. “I heard about Sophie’s husband hunt.”

“Who hasn’t?” he grunted, still staring at the couple.

“Who do you think she’ll end up with?” she persisted.

Shrugging, he looked at her with what he hoped was a bland expression. “That’s anybody’s guess.”

Pauline tilted her head to the side, regarding him with frank appraisal. “Some people think you might volunteer for the job.”

“Me?” He accidentally stomped on her toe. “Isn’t it obvious the two of us wouldn’t suit? Besides, I’m not interested in marriage right now. From what I’ve seen, falling in love is a painful, angst-ridden process that doesn’t always end well.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way.” She stared at him in consternation.

“Even so, I’m not interested,” he said firmly. “Not now. Maybe not ever.”

The music died away and he couldn’t be more grateful. She’d bristled, her manner suggesting he’d announced his disgust for small children and pets.

Preston came to his rescue, tapping his shoulder and inviting her to dance the next song, oblivious to her clear upset.

Clearing the group, he saw that his path would take him past Sophie and Frank. Recalling her earlier expression of longing, he couldn’t deny her a chance to dance at least once this day.

“Would you like to dance?”

Her eyes widened at his abrupt request. With a quick glance at Frank, she nodded and accepted his outstretched hand. The music segued into a slow, pensive number and she faltered. “I’m not good at this.”

Settling an arm around her waist, he pulled her as close as he dared. “Let me lead you.”

Lost in her trusting eyes, reveling in the feel of her small hand upon his shoulder, Nathan guided them both in a simple dance. Their first. For the entirety of the song, he would forget about the rumors going ’round about them, forget about everything except chasing away her sadness.

“How is it that you and I have never danced together?”

“I—I don’t know.” Her fingers tightened on his sleeve. She sounded slightly breathless. From the dance? Or something else entirely?

“Well—” he grinned as he maneuvered her in a tight circle that made her lips part in surprise “—you’re a great partner.”

“Thank you, Nathan,” she said quietly, looking as though he’d handed her the moon with that one compliment.

That’s because she’s used to lectures from you, not praise.

He frowned.

“Is something wrong?” she asked. “Did I crush your toes?”

He pulled her closer, a move that earned him a raised eyebrow from the older gentleman sweeping past with his wife. Ignoring him, Nathan gazed down at her. “No. You did nothing wrong. My mind wandered, is all.”

“How’s your finger?”

He unconsciously flexed it, the bandage straining. “Still a little sore but healing nicely thanks to you.”

She smiled. “I’m glad I could help.”

For the remainder of the song, he focused on the moment, the surprisingly pleasant way she fit against him. When it ended, he found himself foolishly wishing for more time. “Can I get you a glass of lemonade?”

“I’d like that.”

But when they separated themselves from the dancers, Frank was there with two drinks in his hand. He offered one to Sophie. With an apologetic look at Nathan, she accepted it and thanked her date. Her
date.
Right. The two of them were here together, which meant it was his cue to get lost.

At least he could boast success in one area—she looked happier than she had a few minutes ago.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you both later. Thanks for the dance, Soph.”

And he walked away, leaving her to her hunt.

* * *

Sophie longed to call him back. To dance with him again. Held in Nathan’s strong, warm embrace, she’d felt as though she were floating in the clouds, a peaceful place far removed from her tumultuous world. His molten silver gaze had thrilled her. Made her believe, for the space of a song, that she was special to him. More than a friend.

But that was wishful thinking. And so far from reality as to be laughable.

Willing her gaze away from his retreating back, Sophie turned to Frank. “I don’t see your mother anywhere. Did she stay home?”

“She’s sitting over there.”

Sophie glimpsed Bonnie’s short brown curls. Craning her neck, she was able to get a fuller view of the woman seated alone. “She doesn’t look like she’s having much fun.”

Frank sighed. “Ma doesn’t like crowds.”

“Or music.”

He gave a wry smile. “Or much of anything, to be honest. She’s the exact opposite of my pa. I’m not sure how they ever ended up together.”

She sipped the tart drink. “She’s missing out, especially with regard to your playing. Will and I enjoyed it immensely.”

He flushed, clearly unused to praise. “I had a good time the other night.”

“So did I,” she said, meaning it. Frank was quickly becoming a friend.

She nodded her head to indicate the musicians. “You should be up there playing.”

“I don’t think so.”

When she laid a hand on his arm, his dark brows lifted an inch. “Don’t let your ma hold you back, Frank. Do what makes you happy. Life is short.”

Her granddad’s face flashed in her mind, and she blinked back moisture. She missed him every moment of every day. Sometimes she’d curl up on his bed simply to try to feel closer to him, dreading the day his familiar scent faded from his pillow.

“I think I’ll go and get a piece of cake.”

“I can get it for you—” Frank offered.

“That’s all right.” She waved him off. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

Heart hurting, Sophie weaved through the throng to the refreshment table. This wasn’t the time or place to give in to her grief. Not truly hungry, she chose a plate with the smallest piece, not noticing the female trio standing nearby.

“Aw, isn’t it sweet, girls?” April drawled. “Sophie’s trying to imitate a lady.”

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from retorting.

“I—I think you look beautiful, Sophie,” Lila offered softly.

Turning to face them, she managed a tight smile for the younger girl. “Thanks, Lila.”

April rolled her eyes. “Beautiful? She looks like a little girl trying to pull off her mother’s clothing. Oh, wait. Your ma isn’t around anymore. Neither is your low-life pa.”

Lila gasped. “April!”

Her sister, Norma Jean, looked uncomfortable, her gaze volleying between them.

Sophie’s temper flared. Setting her plate down, she turned to leave before things got ugly.

But April wasn’t finished. “My ma says your brother will turn out exactly like Lester—a lying, cheating, amoral philanderer.”

“Leave my brother out of this,” she said through clenched teeth, fingers tightening on the glass in her hand. “Say all you like about me. I’m a big girl. I can handle it. But Will hasn’t done a thing to deserve your insults. He’s innocent.”

“I can say whatever I like. Don’t think that because you’ve put on a dress and changed your hair and turned all the men’s heads that you’re better than me. Inside, you’re still a dumb, dirty hick,” she jeered. “And your brother is Tanner filth.”

Cold fury swept through Sophie, too fast to stop her reaction. Lifting her glass, she dumped the contents over April’s head.

The dark-headed girl sputtered and wailed.

Sophie was only vaguely aware of the gathering circle of spectators, her sole focus on shutting April up.

“How dare you!” April raged. Her hand shot out and grabbed a glass, then tossed the liquid on Sophie’s bodice.

The sticky wetness seeped through the material. Oooh! Grabbing a fistful of cake, she smashed it in April’s snooty face. “Now that’s an improvement,” she murmured.

Sophie’s satisfaction was short-lived. A hand clamped down on her arm. “That’s quite enough.”

Glancing up into Nathan’s stern face, her stomach plummeted. Her anger evaporated. Humiliation burned in her cheeks.

He ushered her away from the murmuring crowd, waiting until they were hidden behind a copse of trees to drop her arm as if it burned him. “How could you, Sophie?”

The disappointment in his eyes, which only moments ago had been friendly and full of caring, made her want to disappear. He wore a path in the grass, frustration oozing from his stiff frame.