CHAPTER TEN #2
What was she going to do? That evening, Elisabeth shoved a marionberry pie into the oven and slammed the door closed.
Henry should have been long gone. But he hadn’t left. He hadn’t slunk away in the middle of the night. He hadn’t quit.
Elisabeth twisted the knob on the timer and overshot the time by fifteen minutes. She reset the dial to the correct time.
He was supposed to quit, not dive into whatever task she gave him. Okay, he wasn’t diving. He was drowning. Still, he hadn’t given up. Not even after she’d thrown in chores that hadn’t been done in years like cleaning the barn, washing the equipment, and organizing the tools.
She brushed the flour off the countertop. Too bad she couldn’t get rid of Henry as easily.
Why hadn’t he quit?
That was the only way she could keep Cynthia Sterling’s money and use it to hire someone who knew what they were doing. If any money was left over, she could fix the roof, the plumbing, and a million other things.
But that wasn’t going to happen. Not now.
Elisabeth’s shoulders slumped.
She had nothing left to use to discourage him or try to make him quit. And that left one course of action—to fire him. But thinking about firing him made her feel awful.
Elisabeth sagged against the counter. Not that she wasn’t justified in letting Henry go. He had made mistake after mistake. She still couldn’t believe he’d cut back the wrong row of berries, planted all the vegetable seeds wrong, and let the chickens escape again.
Farming clearly wasn’t his thing. But even though he hadn’t a clue about what he was doing, he was trying hard. That counted for something. She sighed. Twenty-five thousand dollars’ worth of something?
She might be down on her luck, but so was Henry.
Maybe she could convince him to accept Cynthia’s help—even take the money Elisabeth had received. No, he didn’t want charity. That was why she couldn’t ask him to quit. She didn’t want him to know what his friends had done for him.
As she removed the lid from the pot on the stove, the scent of the Mexican stew with cinnamon, oregano, cumin, and jalapeno chilis filled the air. She stirred the simmering broth, added diced chicken, and replaced the lid.
The whine of a lone four-wheeler caught her attention.
She glanced at the clock. Henry had worked later than she expected.
Perhaps she misjudged him. Okay, he’d flirted with her best friend, but he hadn’t destroyed the farm. At least not yet.
Maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he would learn. Maybe he could stay.
Her chest tightened. That reaction alone told her it was time for Henry to pack his bag and go.
She couldn’t afford to have feelings for a charmer like him.
Not that she had feelings. But it could happen, and that would be a huge mistake.
Henry might be here now, but she couldn’t count on him to stay in the long run. Of that, she was certain.
The kitchen door opened, and Henry stepped inside with Ruff panting at his heels.
He had removed his work boots outside and wore white socks on his feet.
Dirt covered his jeans and jacket. A jacket sleeve had been ripped.
His face had smudges, and his hair was damp on the ends.
He smelled like he looked—as if he’d been working hard since dawn.
Attraction slammed into her. Elisabeth swallowed around the blackberry-sized lump in her throat.
“Did you see the sunset?” He stared at her. “Beautiful.”
He was beautiful. Gorgeous. You name it. The simple richness of his voice made her pulse speed up. Another reason to fire him. “I—I didn’t notice.”
“I finished tying the rows you wanted.”
“All of them?”
He nodded.
“That’s good.” Incredible. She thought it would take him longer. A lot longer.
And then it hit her. Henry had done a good job. He hadn’t screwed up. He had been helpful today. Yet the last thing she felt was relief. Not when her insides reacted to his every word, glance, and movement.
Ruff nuzzled his nose against Henry. As he petted the dog, Henry grimaced.
Elisabeth took a step toward him and stopped. “Is something wrong with your hand?”
“A blister. It’s nothing.”
“You’re not used to this kind of work. I’d better check it.” She reached for his hand. A jolt of electricity shocked her at the contact, and she ignored it. He had two small blisters on his left hand and three larger ones on his right. “Why didn’t you stop working? This has to hurt.”
“The canes needed to be tied.” His gaze met hers. “We can’t afford to get behind. Isn’t that what you said?”
She nodded.
“I know I’ve messed up, but I’m finally getting it. I won’t screw up again.” He paused. “At least not intentionally.”
Yes, his hands were a mess, but that hadn’t mattered to him. He’d put the farm first. And her.
She couldn’t fire him.
Henry was staying. For now.
Frustration sped along her spine, followed by a surge of relief. It had to be about the check. There couldn’t be another reason for the tangle of emotions she felt. There just couldn’t be.
“Let’s get your blisters fixed up.”
Elisabeth gathered the supplies, then cleaned the blisters with antibacterial soap. “Does this hurt?”
“No.”
She wondered if he would admit if it hurt. As she rinsed his hands with water, she noticed how large they were. He might not be used to manual labor, but his hands looked strong. And felt warm. She turned off the water. “Better?”
He nodded.
“You have nice hands.”
“So do you.”
What was she doing? Saying? They were just hands. Male hands. They were supposed to be big and strong and warm. She patted his hands dry, placed a dab of ointment on them, and covered them with bandages. Elisabeth put everything back in the first-aid kit. “That should help them heal faster.”
He flexed his fingers. “Thanks.”
“You need to be more careful.” She focused on his blisters. “If you feel any burning or aching, stop what you’re doing and see if a blister is forming. You also don’t want these to get infected.”
“I’ll try to remember that.” His gaze captured hers. “I don’t always think things through like I should.”
“That can get you into trouble.”
“Sometimes it gets me what I want.” He smiled. “Like now. I want to kiss you.”
His words took her by surprise. She didn’t say anything, but she parted her lips slightly.
Henry slowly lowered his lips toward hers as if giving her a chance to say no.
Step back, a voice in her head warned. Except Elisabeth had no room to do that.
One little kiss wouldn’t hurt anything. Wouldn’t hurt her.
Soft. His lips were soft against hers. And warm.
Henry didn’t push. He didn’t do anything except send tingles running all over her body. He cupped the back of her head and wove his fingers through her hair. She soaked up the feel and the taste of his lips. It had been so long since she’d been kissed.
Too long.
And she wanted more.
Elisabeth put her hands on his back and pulled him toward her. Henry took the hint and increased the pressure. Increased…everything.
He tasted. He teased. But most of all, he kissed.
Oh boy, she’d never been kissed like this before.
Her knees had never gone weak before. They were weak now. She’d heard of women swooning but never thought she’d be one of them. Thank goodness her back was against the counter, or she’d be on the floor. Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.
Henry left no part of her mouth untouched. She didn’t want to think about how he got to be such a great kisser. But he was so good. Maybe this was what they taught at Harvard. Maybe he had been born that way.
That had to be it. A natural talent for kissing.
She clung to Henry’s wide shoulders. She didn’t want to let go. She didn’t want this kiss to end. Not ever.
One little kiss wasn’t so little.
Henry’s kiss washed away her loneliness. She felt a sense of security that had been missing for way too long. She was no longer a big sister, a farmer, a server, a stand-in mom. She was simply Elisabeth. A woman. And she liked the feeling a lot.
He pulled her closer, and she went willingly.
The years of wishing things could be different but knowing they couldn’t faded.
At this one moment, her life could be different.
She could be different. She could believe in a happily-ever-after ending.
She could believe in happiness again. She could believe in almost anything.
Henry backed away. His eyes were wide, his breathing as labored as her own. “I’m sorry, Elisabeth.”
She was sorry, too. Sorry his kiss had to end. She touched her throbbing, swollen lips, wishing Henry’s lips were against them, not her fingertip. She glanced up at him. “You’re apologizing?”
“I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
No, he probably shouldn’t have. But he had, and she liked it. A lot. He was ruining it by apologizing. “I didn’t stop you.”
“No, but that doesn’t make it right.”
But it felt right. So very right.
Henry glanced around the kitchen. “I work for you. I shouldn’t take advantage—”
“Would you stop it?” She rose on her tiptoes and kissed him until she couldn’t breathe. Until she couldn’t take it anymore. Elisabeth tore her mouth away. “There.”
He blinked. “Where?”
“You can stop apologizing. Now we’re even.”
But as she said the words, she knew that wasn’t true. Henry might not be the player she imagined he was, but he sure could kiss. Suddenly, the farm wasn’t her only concern. She had a much bigger one—her heart.