Allie's Moon by Alexis Harrington Read Free Book Online Page B

he’d wash
before he ate it, or she’d know the reason why. Setting the tray on
a stump, she scanned the roof for him. Oh—there he was, near the
chimney.
    Althea’s breath caught in her throat.
    The low red-gold sun silhouetted Jeff’s
length, outlining his bare upper torso as he stood watching the
western horizon. He studied it the way a ship’s captain might, as
if he were searching for something. The evening breeze blew back
his unkempt hair, revealing his profile. With the haggard lines on
his face burnished by the sun, he looked startlingly handsome
standing up there, in command, as though he were a natural leader
bearing a great responsibility. Overhead, a pair of meadowlarks
winged their way across the darkening blue sky, completing the
tableau.
    Althea realized she was staring at him again,
and this time with more than general curiosity. Shame, she scolded
herself. She had no business noticing anything about Jefferson
Hicks, no business wondering what he was thinking as he stared at
the horizon, or what had turned him into the man he was now.
    “ Mr. Hicks, is the roof finished?” she
called up.
    Jeff turned at the sound of her voice and put
his shirt back on. “I’d say there’s another half a day’s work to be
done on it, ma’am.”
    Oh, dear. She didn’t know if Will Mason would
allow him to return to finish the job. She’d certainly abandoned
all hope of seeing Cooper Matthews out here. “Well, come down, now,
and eat your dinner while it’s hot. Cold soup loses its
flavor.”
    Jeff picked up the hammer and tucked the
handle back into the waistband of his jeans. Stepping carefully
onto the ladder, he worked his way down and crossed the yard.
Watching him, Althea couldn’t mistake the expression of hunger that
crossed his thin face when he saw the tray.
    He reached for the bowl with two dirty hands.
“It sure smells good.” He glanced up, quickly tacking on “Ma’am,”
as if it were an afterthought.
    Blocking his reach, Althea thrust the soap
and towel into his grasp. A thin medicinal odor blended with that
of old sweat, as if alcohol were coming through his pores. “You’ll
pardon me for saying so, Mr. Hicks, but you do not.”
    After gazing for a moment at the rectangular
bar and folded length of linen he found himself holding, he cast a
blank look at her.
    Expounding the point, she continued, “I’m
sure you’d like the opportunity wash up. There’s a water trough
next to the woodshed.”
    Crimson highlighted his sharply cut
cheekbones. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. With his eyes downcast, he
disappeared around the corner of the house.
    Realizing that she had embarrassed him,
Althea caught her lower lip in her teeth. But after this fleeting
sense of remorse, she drew herself up and set her chin. The man
reeked. If he needed prodding to wash every day, then she would
provide the motivation as long as he remained here in her employ.
It was either that or wear a clothespin on her nose every time she
got near him.
    She heard vigorous splashing and when he
returned, his hair, hands, and face, were clean, even if the rest
of him wasn’t. His lashes still held droplets of water and formed
spiky frames around his striking green eyes. As though still
embarrassed, he dropped his gaze from hers again.
    “ Well—you—that’s better,” she said,
feeling an odd little flutter in her stomach. “You can bring that
stool over here from the porch to sit on.”
    As he went after the stool, Althea heard
horses coming down the road to the house. The clatter of their
hooves broke the stillness of the countryside. Turning, she saw
Will Mason returning with the wagon.
    Will brought the conveyance to a stop in
front of the porch, and climbed down. “Miss Althea,” he
acknowledged, touching his hat brim. “How did it go today?”
    “ Mr. Hicks tells me there’s a little
work left to be done on the roof, but I believe he’s got most of it
patched.”
    Will scanned the yard with a slow perusal
that