Читать книгу Honeymoon with the Rancher / Nanny Next Door: Honeymoon with the Rancher / Nanny Next Door - Michelle Celmer, Donna Alward - Страница 11

“WHAT are you doing?” Tomas asked, stepping into the kitchen. He’d spent a long time in the barns, avoiding Sophia after their kiss. Needing to clear his mind. It hadn’t worked. The taste and feel of her stayed with him until there was no more tack left to polish. He’d put things off a little longer by having a quick shower. Now he’d come to the kitchen to scrounge something to eat, never expecting to find Sophia there. He’d figured she’d be exhausted from her eventful day.

“Making dinner. You were busy in the barn, and I was cleaned up, so.” she broke off the sentence, turning around to face him as she wiped her hands on a towel. “I didn’t know what sort of food you were used to, so I put together a cold meal. I hope that’s okay.”

Tomas stepped forward, just enough to catch the perfumed scent of her skin. She should have been dead on her feet after the extraordinary day they’d had. Instead he found her here looking like an ad in a magazine. She wore a dress that managed to hug her figure yet appear elegant, drawing his gaze to the soft curve of her hips. Her hair was up in some sort of twist that looked simple and casual and that he expected took a great deal of talent to arrange. Silver and amethyst earrings dangled at her ears. And the shoes were back. Lower heels this time, but he raised his eyebrows at the sandals that blended shades of pink, lime green and turquoise. They should have been garish. Instead, they complemented everything, making her look young and stylish.

Like the woman who had arrived yesterday. Tomas knew he should be relieved. It was easier to distance himself from her when she looked like this—foreign and out of his league.

But he missed how her eyes had glittered up at him from beneath her campero and how cuddly she’d appeared in his coveralls. “You didn’t have to make dinner.”

“But you said everyone pitches in. I ditched you earlier—literally. And my bath was very refreshing. I fear today’s activities have left me starving.”

She smiled up at him and he felt his breath catch. This was wrong. It was purely physical. But it was just attraction. Nothing more. He could handle it. Another few days and she’d be gone. Just a blip on the libido radar until things got back to normal.

“How is your hip?” he enquired politely, ignoring the way his pulse had quickened and moving to help with the preparations. She’d already laid out a selection of cold meats from the fridge, as well as cheese and sliced vegetables. The food was placed strategically on a platter, in sections and precise layers that made it a work of art.

“Sore, but the bath helped, and the scented salts, too. They are a lovely addition to the room, Tomas. It should be mentioned to Maria. A nice touch.” She put the last few slices of tomato in place and stood back. “There. All that is missing is slicing the bread.”

“I can do that. You should get off your feet.” Tomas felt off balance at the change in their conversation. In some ways it felt polite and distant, and yet there was a comfortableness to it that made it seem that they’d known each other far longer than a couple of days. And then there was the kiss that neither of them had mentioned. It stood between them, a lump of something that was hard to ignore. They had both retreated to their respective corners since then, looking for solid footing. Had it affected her as strongly as it had him?

He sliced the bread and Sophia laid it on a plate around a small bowl of herbed butter. “Let’s eat outside,” Tomas suggested. He wouldn’t feel so closed in if they ate in the backyard. “I can light a fire. We often do in the evenings.”

“That would be lovely.” Again she smiled, warm and polite, and Tomas got the sneaky suspicion that it was her friendly meet-the-politician smile.

It was no more than he deserved, and he should be glad she’d taken a step back. But he hated it.

They carried the food outdoors, and while Sophia went back into the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of wine and glasses, Tomas began laying a fire.

This formality was exactly what he’d wanted. So why did it feel so awkward?

After the meal he insisted on doing the cleaning up and sent Sophia to rest her hip. When the last dish was dry and back in the cupboard, he found her in the living room, curled into a corner of the sofa, sleeping.

She looked so innocent with her lashes on her cheeks and her lips relaxed in slumber. Her shoes were on the floor and her dress had slid up her thigh, revealing the soft skin to his gaze. Gently, so as not to wake her, he ran his finger up the smooth length, stopping at the hem and drawing back. He didn’t know what to make of her. One moment fragile, the next stubborn as a mule. Today he’d felt he’d let her down. He knew she could have been seriously injured, and he’d expected her to retreat to spoiled form. But instead she’d risen above it and had proved her mettle.

He reached out and touched her shoulder, and as her eyes opened and focused on his he felt the burning start, deep in his gut.

“It’s time for bed,” he said quietly.

For a few moments something hummed between them. The memory of the afternoon’s kiss seemed to sizzle in the air. Her eyes had the same hooded, dazed look now as they’d had then, and he swallowed, resisting the urge to reach out and run his thumb over her cheekbone.

He had the most irrational thought of taking her down the hall to the family quarters and tucking her beneath his sheets before crawling in beside her and holding her close. Her dark eyes showed the slightest hint of alarm as if she understood the direction of his thoughts even though no words had been spoken.

But that was wrong, and crazy, and definitely not what Maria had meant when she’d ordered him to look after their guest. He stepped back and cleared his throat.

“Sleep well, Sophia,” he said, and gathering all his willpower, walked down the hallway alone.

Sophia dug in her pitchfork, wrinkled her nose and, holding her breath, deposited the soiled straw in the wheelbarrow.

When she’d heard Tomas rise this morning, she’d hurriedly hopped out of bed and pulled on the bombachas of yesterday. She would not be late. She was determined not to lag. She put her hand on her still-aching hip. She’d show Tomas she was made of sterner stuff. Last night she’d been exhausted and still reeling from Tomas’s kiss. Putting on the dress and shoes and making dinner was the best way to keep her guard up, to show him a tumble from a horse would not defeat her. And neither would a most heavenly kiss from her sexy gaucho. What she wanted and how far she was prepared to go were two very different things.

The kiss had nearly been repeated before bed last night. She had seen it in his eyes, and for a few seconds she had leaned the slightest bit towards him, her nerve endings on high alert. In the end he’d backed away. She should have been relieved. Would he expect her to be a woman of the world? She knew she was an anomaly—a virgin at her age. The pull to him was undeniable, but her hesitancy was equally strong.

She’d lain awake a long time thinking about it, and this morning she’d awakened tired but more determined than ever to pull her weight. To prove that she was up to any challenge he could throw at her.

But that was before she’d realized that the first chores of the morning were mucking out stalls and feeding the horses. Now Tomas had turned the stock out into a nearby pasture to graze while they shoveled manure. There was no other polite way to put it. She put another forkful in the barrow as Tomas strode up the corridor whistling. It was obscenely early to sound so cheerful. When she saw his boots stop beside her, she turned with a scoop of dirty straw and was deliberately careless so that a bit fell on his boots with a plop.

Then, calm as you please, she deposited the rest in the wheelbarrow.

“Thank you for your help this morning,” Tomas said, shaking off his foot, unconcerned. “You’re really getting into the swing of things now, aren’t you?”

The sun was barely up and Sophia was dying for a first cup of coffee, and the sooner they finished the sooner she could have it. But despite the unpalatable chore, the dew on the grass and the early morning birdsong somehow made everything rosier. “It’s not so bad.”

He took the pitchfork from her hand. “I’ll get rid of this. There’s fresh straw over there to put in the stalls.”

Sophia spent the next fifteen minutes putting down the layer of straw, all the while listening to Tomas’s cheerful whistling. After the hours she’d spent puzzling out what exactly their kiss had meant, Tomas was acting as if nothing had happened at all. She shook out the last of the straw and dusted off her hands.

“Are you ready for breakfast?” Tomas came back around the corner and Sophia straightened, bracing her lower back with both hands. There had been a communion to working with him this morning. A satisfaction of working together, much like that she’d felt yesterday as they’d painted the shed. Her stomach grumbled and Tomas smiled at her. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

She followed him back to the house as the sun peeked over the rolling hills, colouring the pampas with a fresh, warm glow. She inhaled deeply, enjoying the open space that was at once youthful and timeless. Each day started anew, with the flaws of yesterday behind it. As they reached the door she closed her eyes and let out a breath. Antoine, her mom, her friends—they would be appalled at the fact that she’d spent her first daylight hours cleaning a dirty horse barn. And yes, it had been an unusual experience. But not a bad one.

As she and Tomas pulled off their boots, Sophia realized she was perhaps made of more than she was given credit for. Perhaps she simply hadn’t tried because it had been safer that way. Secure. No risk, no loss.

“What’s so funny?” Tomas’s voice broke through her thoughts as he went to the sink to wash up. She joined him there, sharing the soap as they washed their hands beneath the running water.

“Two days ago when I arrived, I didn’t plan on shoveling … well, you know.”

“You did a fine job for a beginner.”

She dried her hands and gave him the towel. “Thank you, but now I want to know what’s to eat. All that fresh air has given me an appetite.” She would kill for bacon and eggs, the sort of breakfast that never passed her lips anymore. Perhaps it was the combination of hard work and fresh air. Perhaps it was knowing that she need not hold to the conventions of the past at Vista del Cielo. Either way, she was famished.

As if he read her mind, Tomas took eggs from the fridge. “I will fry some eggs and there is the bread from yesterday.”

Her mouth watered at the thought of a fried-egg sandwich. “That sounds perfect.”

They worked together to prepare the meal, and once they sat at the table Tomas asked, “How’s the hip?”

Sophia chewed and swallowed. It still pained, but she didn’t want it to keep her from whatever Tomas had planned for the day. Now that she had made a success of something, she wanted to build on the momentum. The sense of accomplishment was addictive. “It’s a little sore, but I’m no worse for the wear.”

“Since the chores are done, I thought you might like a trip into town. You can find some clothes there, perhaps some souvenirs to take back home with you.”

“What about the shed? We still have to put on another coat of paint.” But Tomas shook his head.

“I decided it can wait. We should be back later this afternoon and I can paint it then.”

“Are you sure?”

Tomas swiped his bread across his plate. “Yes, I’m sure. You helped this morning. It is your vacation after all. If Maria were here, she would take you on a day trip to town. In her absence, it’s my job.”

Sophia felt her excitement deflate. This was nothing more than Tomas living up to his responsibilities once again. Making up for yesterday, too, she supposed. It had nothing to do with actually wanting to spend time with her. It was his duty. His job.

Still, a day in town sounded fun. She didn’t want to spend her whole trip on the estancia. She wanted to see new things. And perhaps she could purchase some comfortable clothes. But first she’d have to have a shower to get rid of the barn smell.

“Just give me twenty minutes to clean up.”

Back in Canada, it would have taken her three times that long to be ready for a day out. Sophia smiled as she took her plate to the sink.

In Argentina, nothing was the same.

“Me, too,” Tomas replied. As Sophia went back to her room to gather fresh clothing, she told herself she would not think about Tomas’s dark, lean body beneath the shower spray.

Sophia’s feet were beginning to ache from all the walking, but it had been worth it. She wiped her lips with a paper napkin and then crumpled it, tossing it into a nearby garbage bin. They’d stopped at a sausage cart for lunch, grabbing a snack to tide them over before heading back to the estancia for the afternoon. The chorizo had been suitably spicy and the bread chewy and fresh. Beside her, Tomas gave a satisfied sigh and she smiled.

“That was delicious.”

“Not fancy, but one of my favourites.” He too wiped his mouth and disposed of the napkin.

The afternoon was hot and Sophia soaked in the heat, enjoying the feel of it on her skin. Tomas had proven a better tour guide than she’d expected. They’d spent the morning visiting the Gaucho Museum and browsing the silver shops, admiring the craftsmanship. She’d bought two casual outfits and a pair of silver earrings for her mother as a gift. Meanwhile, Tomas had taken her to a local bodega where he’d picked up several bottles of Malbec, claiming it was Maria’s particular favourite. Once they’d stowed their packages in the estancia’s SUV, he’d suggested a quick lunch of grilled sausage wrapped in a bun. It had been perfect. They had munched while walking along the river. Now, with the shops closing for the afternoon, they ambled along the pathway.

A group of boys were playing soccer ahead, their shouts a happy sound in the peaceful quiet. “This is such a lovely town,” Sophia said. “Honestly, Tomas, the more I see you here the more I understand. I’m a city girl, where things are vibrant and rush, rush, rush. But here, it’s …” She broke off, confused. “It’s hard to explain.”

But Tomas nodded. “That’s what staying at the Vista del Cielo is all about, remember? Maybe sometimes I take the quiet and slower pace for granted.”

He paused and faced her, taking her hands in his. “Sophia …”

He stopped and his jaw tightened. His fingers clasped hers tightly as she looked up into his face, falling under the spell of his dark gaze as her heart began to pound. Did he possibly know how attractive he was, how magnetic? They didn’t even have to be close to one another for her to feel the pull. It had been there yesterday, too, even as they’d shouted at each other.

But now, as he held her hands in his, she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to throw caution to the wind and take things a step further. A holiday romance had been the very last thing on her mind when she’d left Canada. But faced with Tomas. The trouble was that he wasn’t just a sexy, enigmatic gaucho anymore. She knew what it was like to see him smile. Her heart still caught when she remembered the look in his eyes as he’d cradled her head in his hand yesterday, asking if she was all right.

And her body practically sang at the memory of feeling his lips on hers. She couldn’t deny the possibility of a brief romance held a certain allure. But as soon as she thought it, she dismissed it. What if she flirted? Tried to get him to kiss her again? Then what? What would he expect? Maybe nothing. But maybe a whole lot more than she was comfortable with. In some ways, she’d already bitten off more than she could chew with this trip. Tempting Tomas might definitely turn into more than she could handle, and if she were honest with herself, she just wasn’t ready.

“Is there something you want to say?” She gave his fingers a gentle squeeze.

For a long moment his gaze plumbed hers, but then he released her hands. “Just … it seems strange to be saying this, but seeing your view of the town, the pampas.” He paused, then offered a small smile, just a faint curving of his lips that reached out and held her in its grasp. “I had forgotten how to appreciate it,” he said. “Thank you.”

“Me? I’ve done nothing. I know I came across as a bit of a princess, Tomas …”

His warm chuckle sent tingles down her arms.

“I’m really not. Not deep down.”

He looked as if he wanted to say something, but instead merely inclined his head towards the path. “Let’s walk.”

And there he went again, poking his head out of his shell just a little bit before turtling in again. It frustrated her even though she knew it was probably for the best.

They resumed walking along the path. “I’m afraid I haven’t been very good company. I hope Carlos and Maria don’t plan on using me as a tour guide very often.”

“Don’t be silly. I arrived unexpectedly and threw a monkey wrench into your week.”

“You’re our guest, Sophia.”

He’d said our and not my and Sophia felt the difference. She watched the boys kick the ball around, one rushing in to score a victorious goal. Another boy, smaller, scuffed his toe on the ground in frustration. Sophia knew how that felt. It was like trying to gain Tomas’s approval. It was a rare commodity, and somehow she felt it was worth striving for. A romance was out of the question. There was so much potential for things to go wrong. But she somehow wanted to think that they were friends of a sort. Someone who was a friend to the new and improved Sophia.

“I … I’d like to think maybe we’re friends,” she said quietly.

“Friends?” he asked, and she heard the surprise in his voice. Didn’t he have friends? Was it so incomprehensible?

“Sure,” she smiled as their steps slowed even further. “Amigos. I mean, you know more about me than you normally would about a guest, right? Far more than ‘where are you from, what do you do?’”

“I suppose.”

But did friends get that twirling of anticipation from simply knowing they were going to be together? She knew they didn’t. There was more between them. The question was, were they going to ignore it or explore it? Which did she really want? This was supposed to be a simple trip, uncomplicated. And Tomas was one big sexy complication.

They kept on until they reached the Puente Viejo, a gorgeous salmon-pink bridge spanning the river. They stood at the crest of it and rested their arms on the ledge, looking down at the smooth water.

“Sophia,” Tomas began, and she looked up at him, surprised to see his brows pulled together in a pensive frown when they were in one of the most beautiful, relaxing places she could remember.

“What is it?”

“As friends, I feel I should apologize for kissing you yesterday.”

“It has bothered you,” she acknowledged. Was this why he’d spent hours in the barn rather than coming to the house? Was it why he’d brought her to town today? Guilt?

“I was very out of line yesterday, Sophia. You gave me such a scare. I fear my actions made you uncomfortable.”

Oh yes. In the most heart-stopping, glorious way, but there was no way she was going to tell him that. Especially when he clearly didn’t feel the same. With Tomas it was always duty first. She could resent him for that if it weren’t so darned admirable.

“It’s okay, Tomas.” Sophia forced a smile when she felt none. “I know it was just a reaction. The fall scared us both. I know it wasn’t real.”

Tomas didn’t respond and the silence was more awkward than any words might have been. Was there any clearer confirmation? She needed to say something, something to dispel the tense atmosphere. Was Tomas thinking about it as she was? Clearly he regretted it. He was not interested in her. She, on the other hand, was remembering the kiss quite differently. She was feeling quite giddy about it, which wouldn’t do at all.

“I’m afraid I’m not a great host,” Tomas said, relaxing just a little. Sophia supposed clearing the air about the kiss was a relief to him. Tomas linked his fingers together over the railing. “Maria is much better at this sort of thing. She knows how to make people at home.”

What would Maria say if she knew Tomas had held Sophia in his arms? Or that Sophia had kissed him back as though she was dying of thirst and he was cool, reviving water?

“She’d flay me alive,” Tomas continued, almost as if he’d heard Sophia’s question. “For letting you take a fall like that.”

“It sounds like she cares about you. As a mother would.”

He laughed then, quietly, but it was warm and heartfelt, and Sophia loved how it changed his face.

“Maria is the heart and soul that keeps this family together,” he said easily. “I’m afraid of what she’d say if she saw you. She’d be meddling in the first five minutes.”

“Why?”

This time when Tomas met her gaze, he said nothing, but then he didn’t have to. The memory of their kiss was suddenly front and centre again, the diversion shattered. “Do you have experience with meddling mothers?” Tomas said it quietly, his magnetic gaze never leaving hers, with tacit acknowledgement that they were attempting to change the subject.

Which made the attraction they were trying to ignore simmer all the stronger.

Sophia forced a laugh. “Are you kidding? My mother is the biggest meddler of them all. She was the one that introduced me to Antoine. And she pushed me into a country club wedding.”

“Don’t all girls want a fancy wedding?” Tomas stood tall and turned to face her, resting against the bridge.

She shook her head. “Not all girls. I didn’t. Not a big production with two hundred guests, a photographer and a champagne fountain. I would have chosen something far simpler.”

“I still find it hard to believe this Antoine let you get away.”

“Oh, he didn’t. He just thought he could have everything,” she replied. And he had. Antoine had never considered that he would get caught. And even if he had, the expectation was that she’d fall in line just as she always did.

“It’s made me think about my gram a lot,” Sophia admitted. “Gram hated her life on the farm. She’d had a very different childhood in England. But I don’t think she ever got over leaving her husband. He was the right man in the wrong place, you know? She always sort of regretted leaving him, I think.” Sophia touched her finger to one of the amethyst earrings she’d always loved and sighed. “She gave me these when I was a girl. They’d been a gift from him. I think having them caused her more pain that she’d admit. Gram always said she didn’t know what was worse—a love that was impossible or one that was practical and suitable. After what happened with Antoine, I think I realized that practical and suitable really isn’t love at all. It was hard to understand at the time, but now I know that his infidelity broke my spirit, but it didn’t break my heart.”

“I’m glad he wasn’t the great love of your life. You would have been far more hurt if it had been otherwise.”

“Like you were?”

“What makes you say such a thing?” He conjured up a look so innocent Sophia couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I get it. You won’t talk about it. That’s okay.”

“I can’t, that’s all.”

What was so awful he couldn’t bring himself to talk about it? But then, Tomas wasn’t the type to do much talking anyway. What little bits she got from him were too small to let her piece them together to get a complete picture. She traced a finger over the pink stone of the bridge. “Why is it parents—and grandparents, I suppose—think they know best?”

Disappointed by his silence, she pushed away from the bridge. “Well, at least you’re not hiding a mistress somewhere.” Suddenly her gaze narrowed. “Are you?”

He laughed, and relief flooded through her though she couldn’t quite imagine why. “No,” he chuckled, “I’m not hiding a mistress of any sort.” He folded his arms. “Would it truly matter if I were?”

His soft question shattered the silence and she inhaled, held her breath. And then she turned her gaze up to him again and her chest constricted. “Yes,” she murmured. “It would. It would destroy the good opinion I have of you, Tomas.”

“Good opinion?” His mouth dropped open in surprise and then he shut it again just as quickly.

She wanted to tell him why but didn’t know how without feeling like an idiot. How did she tell him what it meant for him to pay her the smallest compliment? How it restored her confidence when he wondered how Antoine could have let her get away? And the kiss aside, she had seen the worry and fear on his face as he’d leapt off his horse and come rushing to her side after she’d fallen off Neva. Yes, good opinion.

And to elaborate would make her look like a girl with a crush—starstruck by her knight in shining armor.

Sophia noticed a small girl standing on tiptoe a few meters away, her hands on the edge of the bridge. She swung her arm and two coins dropped into the water. When they sank to the bottom, the girl ran off, pigtails bobbing, to clasp her mother’s hand and continue across the bridge.

“What’s she doing?” Sophia asked, intrigued.

“Many people stand in this very spot and throw coins in the water,” he said quietly. “They toss them in and make a wish.”

Once again Sophia went to the edge and looked down. She wondered what the little girl had wished for. Tomas came up behind her. She felt his body close to hers, felt as though every place they nearly touched was alive. “What about you?” she asked quietly, trying to still the sensations coursing through her. “Have you made wishes?”

He pulled back, putting space between them and she sighed, shaking her hair back over her neck. Why was it she always seemed to ask the very thing that would break the spell?

She wondered how often he might have stood here in the past. She wondered what he had wished for. Did he believe in wishes at all? Or did he think this was just a tourist trap and a pretty story?

It took a while for him to answer, but when he did, his voice was low and rough from behind her. “I did, a long time ago.”

“What did you wish for?”

Tomas sighed, and moved slowly to stand at the edge of the bridge, looking down into the water. “Things that could never be.”