frowned and grabbed his hat off the wall hook. “I’ll be in the barn for a while.”
After he’d gone, Sophie lowered the plate. Sighing, she extended her hand to the chair opposite. “Have a seat. Can I get you milk? Coffee?”
“Coffee, please.”
Lowering himself into the chair, he hooked his hat on the back and pushed a hand through his hair, watching as she filled the kettle and stoked the oven fire, her braid swinging side to side with each twist and turn. She really was a dainty thing. No doubt he could span her waist with his hands. She wasn’t skinny, though. Sturdy and well-made with feminine curves in all the right places.
Stop right there, O’Malley.
Forcing his gaze elsewhere, he wondered why he couldn’t be fascinated by Pauline’s appearance. Or some other acceptable young lady. Why was his mind turning traitor of late? Such a waste of energy.
Sophie Tanner was his polar opposite. If he was what was considered a rule-follower, then she was a rule-bender. He saw the world in black and white; she, a riotous rainbow of color. He preferred the sidelines and she naturally attracted attention wherever she went. While he tended to proceed with caution, she rushed headlong into situations without thinking them through.
It was enough to drive him mad.
By the time she placed two steaming mugs of rich-bodied coffee on the table, he had his thoughts back on track. Sophie smoothed a white cloth napkin in her lap and offered him first pick of the tea cakes. “I hope that studied frown means you’ve come up with a plan.”
He sipped the hot brew, wishing he didn’t have to disappoint her. “Not exactly.”
Her fingers worried the mug’s handle. “What does that mean?”
“We need more time.”
Storm clouds brewed in her eyes. “You don’t have a plan, do you?”
With deep regret, he shook his head. Her reaction was what he’d expected. A growing sense of despondency twisted her features. Her posture dipped.
“What am I going to do?” she whispered through colorless lips.
“We’ll think of something.” Lord, let it be so.
“But what?” Pushing away from the table, she began to pace. “Cordelia doesn’t exactly strike me as the patient type. What if she refuses to wait?”
“We’ll involve the sheriff. She can’t kidnap your brother. These things take time.”
“She’s wealthy, Nathan. Wealth equals power. I don’t doubt she could take him anytime she likes and get away with it. Like she said, she holds all the cards. A lifetime of care is nothing compared to what she can give him.”
“Do you think she’s the type to forcibly remove him?”
“I honestly don’t know.”
The sorrow haunting her expression tore at him. “Come and sit down, Soph. Let’s figure this out together.”
Surprisingly, she sat without argument. Deflated. Defeated.
He pushed the plate toward her. “Eat. The sugar will do you good.”
Again, she did as he suggested, nibbling on the round cake, seemingly a million miles away.
“Let’s review the facts. Surely if we think this through and look at all the angles, we’ll come up with a solution. Two heads are better than one, right?”
“I suppose so.”
“Your aunt’s main concern is that Will isn’t getting the guidance she thinks he needs. How can we convince her otherwise?”
“Discipline. You forgot discipline.” Her eyes flashed defiantly.
“Okay. Guidance and discipline. Besides from a guardian, namely you, where would a ten-year-old boy get those things?”
“His schoolteacher?”
He nodded. “And the reverend.”
“We could ask them to speak with her.” She brightened, brushing crumbs from her lap. “They could assure her what a good kid he is.”
“Will that be enough?”
“There’s Mr. Moore, the mercantile owner. And your father.”
All good suggestions. Would their assurances sway Cordelia’s opinion?
“I think,” he said slowly, finger tracing the indentions in the wood, “that having a permanent
After he’d gone, Sophie lowered the plate. Sighing, she extended her hand to the chair opposite. “Have a seat. Can I get you milk? Coffee?”
“Coffee, please.”
Lowering himself into the chair, he hooked his hat on the back and pushed a hand through his hair, watching as she filled the kettle and stoked the oven fire, her braid swinging side to side with each twist and turn. She really was a dainty thing. No doubt he could span her waist with his hands. She wasn’t skinny, though. Sturdy and well-made with feminine curves in all the right places.
Stop right there, O’Malley.
Forcing his gaze elsewhere, he wondered why he couldn’t be fascinated by Pauline’s appearance. Or some other acceptable young lady. Why was his mind turning traitor of late? Such a waste of energy.
Sophie Tanner was his polar opposite. If he was what was considered a rule-follower, then she was a rule-bender. He saw the world in black and white; she, a riotous rainbow of color. He preferred the sidelines and she naturally attracted attention wherever she went. While he tended to proceed with caution, she rushed headlong into situations without thinking them through.
It was enough to drive him mad.
By the time she placed two steaming mugs of rich-bodied coffee on the table, he had his thoughts back on track. Sophie smoothed a white cloth napkin in her lap and offered him first pick of the tea cakes. “I hope that studied frown means you’ve come up with a plan.”
He sipped the hot brew, wishing he didn’t have to disappoint her. “Not exactly.”
Her fingers worried the mug’s handle. “What does that mean?”
“We need more time.”
Storm clouds brewed in her eyes. “You don’t have a plan, do you?”
With deep regret, he shook his head. Her reaction was what he’d expected. A growing sense of despondency twisted her features. Her posture dipped.
“What am I going to do?” she whispered through colorless lips.
“We’ll think of something.” Lord, let it be so.
“But what?” Pushing away from the table, she began to pace. “Cordelia doesn’t exactly strike me as the patient type. What if she refuses to wait?”
“We’ll involve the sheriff. She can’t kidnap your brother. These things take time.”
“She’s wealthy, Nathan. Wealth equals power. I don’t doubt she could take him anytime she likes and get away with it. Like she said, she holds all the cards. A lifetime of care is nothing compared to what she can give him.”
“Do you think she’s the type to forcibly remove him?”
“I honestly don’t know.”
The sorrow haunting her expression tore at him. “Come and sit down, Soph. Let’s figure this out together.”
Surprisingly, she sat without argument. Deflated. Defeated.
He pushed the plate toward her. “Eat. The sugar will do you good.”
Again, she did as he suggested, nibbling on the round cake, seemingly a million miles away.
“Let’s review the facts. Surely if we think this through and look at all the angles, we’ll come up with a solution. Two heads are better than one, right?”
“I suppose so.”
“Your aunt’s main concern is that Will isn’t getting the guidance she thinks he needs. How can we convince her otherwise?”
“Discipline. You forgot discipline.” Her eyes flashed defiantly.
“Okay. Guidance and discipline. Besides from a guardian, namely you, where would a ten-year-old boy get those things?”
“His schoolteacher?”
He nodded. “And the reverend.”
“We could ask them to speak with her.” She brightened, brushing crumbs from her lap. “They could assure her what a good kid he is.”
“Will that be enough?”
“There’s Mr. Moore, the mercantile owner. And your father.”
All good suggestions. Would their assurances sway Cordelia’s opinion?
“I think,” he said slowly, finger tracing the indentions in the wood, “that having a permanent
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