Brambleberry House. RaeAnne Thayne

wild. An answering tremble stirred inside her and for a moment she forgot what she was doing, her fingers frozen on his skin.

      His quick intake of breath dragged her back to reality and she quickly dropped her hand, feeling her own face flame.

      “You, um, had a little bit of sawdust on your cheek. I didn’t want it to find its way into your eye.”

      “Thanks.” She wasn’t sure if it was her imagination or not but his voice sounded decidedly hoarse.

      She forced a smile and stepped back, though what she really wanted to do was wrap her arms fiercely around his warm, strong neck and hold on for dear life.

      “You’re welcome,” she managed.

      With nothing left to be said, she turned and hurried into the house.

      * * *

      SHE TRIED HARD to put Will out of her mind as she and Maddie plucked Granny Smith apples off Abigail’s tree. She might have found it a bit easier to forget about him if the ladder didn’t offer a perfect view of the porch steps he was fixing.

      Now she paused, her arm outstretched but the apple she was reaching to grab forgotten as she watched him smile at something Simon said. She couldn’t hear them from here but so far it looked as if Simon wasn’t making too big a pest of himself.

      “Is this enough, Mama?” Maddie asked from below, where she stood waiting by the bushel basket.

      Julia jerked her attention back to her daughter and the task at hand. “Just a moment.” She plucked three more and added them to the glistening green pile in the basket.

      “That ought to do it.”

      “Do we really need that many apples?”

      “Not for one pie but I thought we could make a couple of extras. What do you think?”

      She thought for a moment. “Can we give one to Mr. Garrett?”

      Maddie looked over at the steps where Simon was trying his hand with Will’s big hammer and Julia saw both longing and a sad kind of resignation in her daughter’s blue eyes.

      Maddie could be remarkably perceptive about others. Julia thought perhaps her long months of treatment—enough to make any child grow up far too early—had sensitized her to the subtle behaviors of others toward her. The way adults tried not to stare after she lost her hair, the stilted efforts of nurses and doctors to befriend her, even Julia’s attempts to pretend their world was normal. Maddie seemed to see through them all.

      Could Maddie sense the careful distance Will seemed determined to maintain between them?

      Julia hoped not. Her daughter had endured enough. She didn’t need more rejection in her life right now when she was just beginning to find her way again.

      “That’s a good idea,” she finally answered Maddie, hoping her smile looked more genuine than it felt. “And perhaps we can think of someone else who might need a pie.”

      She lifted the bushel and started to carry it around the front of the house. She hadn’t made it far before Will stepped forward and took the bushel out of her hands.

      “Here, I’ll carry that up the stairs for you.”

      She almost protested that it wasn’t necessary but she could tell by the implacable set of his jaw that he wouldn’t accept any arguments from her on the matter.

      “Thank you,” she said instead.

      She and Maddie followed him up the stairs.

      “Where do you want this?” he asked.

      “The kitchen counter by the sink.”

      “We have to wash every single apple and see if it has a worm,” Maddie informed him. “I hope we don’t find one. That would be gross.”

      “That’s a lot of work,” he said stiffly.

      “It is. But my mama’s pies are the best. Even better than brambleberry. Just wait until you try one.”

      Will’s gaze flashed to Julia’s then away so quickly she wondered if she’d imagined the quick flare of heat there.

      “Good luck with your pies.”

      “Good luck with your stairs,” she responded. “Send Simon up if you need to.”

      He nodded and headed out the door, probably completely oblivious that he was leaving two females to watch wistfully after him.