Chapter Eight #2
“I probably should be doing that, I’m staying in Webb Francis’s house,” she said, eyeing the lawn mower with some trepidation.
“Have a shot,” he said, stepping back.
He didn’t know if he wanted to drink the tea or pour it over his body. Being near her wasn’t cooling him down.
She met his eyes and nodded.
“Okay. Just push it?”
He nodded. “Never mowed a lawn before?”
She shook her head as she gripped the handle and pushed.
For a second nothing happened, then with a bit more pressure, the lawn mower began to move, spitting out the cut grass as she tried to follow the edge of his last cut.
When clumps of tall grass appeared between her path and his, he knew she found it tougher than anticipated.
It would have been easier if the grass was shorter to start with.
Sipping the tea, he watched her, grinning at the effort—and the missed spots.
Angelica pushed harder. This wasn’t as easy as Kirk made it seem.
Finally reaching the edge, she struggled to turn it back.
Viewing what she’d cut, she was dismayed to see spots where the machine hadn’t cut straight.
There were patches looking like a Mohawk along the edge between Kirk’s cut and her own.
Determined to do better, she pushed again, getting the machine going.
It wasn’t as hard to keep it going as to start.
Still when she reached him, she was burning up with heat—not all attributed to the effort to push the lawn mower.
He handed her the glass and took over without a word.
Stepping to one side, she watched him. The muscles contracted when he pushed.
Sculpted, they testified to the strength of the man.
Working in construction and carving huge pieces of wood required strength.
She was fascinated. Wishing she could touch him, she blinked and looked at the house.
The two children were watching. She smiled and walked to the porch.
He’d made it abundantly clear he wanted nothing to do with her. She needed to remember that.
“You didn’t do so good, Miss Cannon,” Sam said.
She could depend on that child for total honesty.
“It was my first time. I think cutting grass requires practice, like playing the fiddle, don’t you?”
“I guess.”
“My daddy says cutting grass is man’s work. Then Mama takes him iced tea just like you did, Miss Cannon,” Teresa Ann said. “Only they end up kissing and all.”
“Ew, gross,” Sam said.
Angelica looked back at Kirk. She wouldn’t have minded a kiss for her effort. Or one to reward him for his work.
But after yesterday, she was firmly squelching any thoughts in that direction. It was too bad her body didn’t listen to her mind. Her fingers tingled with the desire to touch him. Her mouth yearned for the feel of his. Her heart raced, and not from the effort to propel that machine.
“Thank you for the limonade.”
Teresa Ann handed Angelica her empty glass.
“Tomorrow I won’t be here for practice, we’re going to the fair. But I could come on Saturday.”
“If you want. I’ll be here.”
“Me, too. I want to make sure I’m ready for the festival,” Sam said.
“Okay, then, Saturday it is.”
She watched them run off, wondering how they found the energy in this heat. She took the glasses inside and put them in the sink. Giving in to temptation, she went back to the screen door to watch Kirk. She didn’t think he could see her. She hoped he couldn’t.
How pathetic to be caught staring at the most virile man she knew when he’d told her to go home. He was so not feeling the same attraction she was.
When he finally finished, she realized she’d been watching for almost an hour.
Stepping away, she went to rinse out the glasses and then went to the music room.
It took two seconds to tidy it up after the children’s lesson.
Picking up her violin, she began her own practice.
She wanted to play this song for the festival and it was trickier than originally thought.
She was on her second pass when she caught movement from the corner of her eye. Stopping, she looked at the doorway. Kirk stood there watching her.
“I knocked, but you couldn’t hear me, I guess,” he said.
“What can I do for you?”
She tried to keep her eyes firmly on his and not drop her gaze to the tantalizing expanse of tanned chest that showed off his pecs so well. He held his shirt in one hand. His jeans were riding low, which made her gulp and become desperate not to let her glance waver from his dark eyes.
“I heard you playing, wanted to hear more. Orange Blossom Special, isn’t it?”
She nodded.
“Hard piece to play, so I’ve heard.”
“You’ve heard right. I’m determined, however,” she said.
“Sounds good. I’ll let my granddad know.”
“Why would he care?”
“He’s planning to come to the festival this year. First time in two decades. He wants to hear you play. He said if Webb Francis thought you were good, maybe you are.”
She laughed. “So he wants to verify that himself?”
“I reckon he does.”
“I still want to go back to his farm and hear him sing that song. I found the music and have been practicing that one as well.”
“I expect he’ll be pleased to hear that.”
The phone sounded.
“Who would that be?” she asked, putting down the violin and heading toward the kitchen. Kirk moved out of her way, then followed.
“Mother!”
Angelica was startled to hear her mother on the other end of the line. She’d hoped to have more time before having to talk to her.
“What in the world are you doing in the backwoods of Appalachia, Angelica?” her mother demanded. “I can’t believe you took off and never said a word. What were you thinking?”
“I’m taking a vacation,” she said.
Guilt infiltrated. She tried to rationalize she had the right, but old habits were hard to break.
Kirk stepped closer and watched her. He couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, but she knew he could hear her.
“And you just take off without a word to your father and me? I can’t believe you left so abruptly and didn’t contact us.”
She was staring at Kirk’s bare chest, bronzed by the sun, defined by muscles from his work. None of the men she knew looked so good.
“Angelica!”
“What do you want me to say? I wanted to take a vacation, so I did. I’m entitled.”
She turned halfway away from Kirk to better focus on her mother’s tirade.
“Well, of course you can take a vacation. You should have told us, we would have rented a cottage at the Cape.”
“I didn’t want to go to Cape Cod this year. I wanted a total break and a chance to explore different music. I decided to come here.”
“Now is the time to be scheduling future concerts, renewing your contract with the philharmonic, not hiding away in the woods. Good grief, what were you thinking? You have to keep constantly in the public’s eye to build a following.
Which is the reason I’m calling. Your agent has a marvelous opportunity for you in Europe.
For two months, you’d tour some of the capitals, Paris, Rome, Madrid, Berlin.
It’s a fantastic chance to build recognition abroad as well as enhance your CV here in the states. ”
“As a soloist?” Angelica asked, feeling things closing in on her.
She didn’t want to have to do a tour in Europe. She wanted to stay right here. The thought startled her and she looked at Kirk. He was watching her with the intensity she’d grown used to.
“Yes. Call him today. He’s been calling us for days, frantic to get in touch with you.”
“I’ll call later.”
“Now, Angelica.”
Angelica gripped the phone. She’d left New York to escape the pressure of her life. Her mother was jumping in with both feet and she resented it.
This was her life, not her mother’s.
“You’re needed back in New York.”
“I’ll call later,” she said, infusing her voice with determination.
This was her first vacation ever. She discounted family outings to the Cape. She was not going to cut it short.
“I can’t believe I’m hearing this. You have had the best musical education money can buy. And you choose to go to some backwoods area in Kentucky for your vacation? And now you’re delaying calling your agent. What has come over you?”
“This is what I want for this summer,” she tried to explain.
Already she was feeling the pressure to conform to their plan for her future. They couldn’t understand her desire to break away and learn more than just the classics and modern music. She wanted—
“There was a great program at the Cape this summer. You should have gone there. At least you’d have been closer to home,” her mother said.
“And more available when your agent called. I can’t believe you aren’t jumping at the chance for this tour.
It’s amazing, and to be offered to one so young is simply miraculous.
You need to grasp the chance, these don’t come along all the time. ”
Angelica glanced at Kirk. He was staring intently at her and she wondered how much he could hear. He looked at her quizzically.
Frustration rose.
“Mom, I’ll take care of it.”
She knew her voice was rising, but she was angry her mother kept harping on this when Angelica had been enjoying her break from routine. She was not a child.
Kirk placed his hand over hers holding the phone and pulled it away. “What?” he asked softly.
“She won’t listen.”
“Then hang up,” he said.
She stared at him. Then put the phone back to her ear. Her mother was talking, but she’d missed most of what she’d said.
“I have to go now, Mom. Goodbye.”
Then she hung up the phone. Staring at it in amazement, she couldn’t believe she’d hung up on her mother.
“Angelica,” he said.
She looked up.
“You’ve done nothing wrong. You’re a capable adult, fully able to make your own decisions. Why get upset over a conversation on the phone?”
“They act like I can’t think for myself. Like I have to fulfil some great scheme to be the best violinist ever in the world. And before this summer, I’ve always let them tell me what to do. I’m not sure I can stand up to them.”
“Just say no,” he said.