Читать книгу A Home Of Her Own - Keli Gwyn - Страница 3

“Are you going to show me how you prepare the new trees, or are you going to stand there staring at me?”

“I wasn’t st—” Yes, he probably had been. He couldn’t take his eyes off her lately. “Fine. I was. You’ve got some flour on your face.” He brushed her cheek to remove the powdery white streak, and she shuddered.

An aching hollowness filled his chest. After all this time, Becky was still repulsed by his touch. No matter what he did, he couldn’t seem to break through her defenses. Well, she’d just have to endure being close to him, because it was nearly impossible to teach someone how to graft without making contact. She’d need help making the cuts and fitting the two pieces of wood together correctly.

She picked up a grafted whip and studied it, her back to him. “So is this what a baby tree looks like when you finish?”

Her reluctance to look at him was understandable, but the catch in her voice was puzzling.