can you have been sleeping in a tree? Isnât that dangerous?â
The boy dusted off his hands. âNot if you know how.â His grin broadened, his sunburned face busting out in white teeth, practically from ear to ear. âI know how.â
For a minute, when he smiled, he looked kind of cute. He was a few inches taller than she was, and wiry, like boys were when they had too much energy and never stood still. His hair was blond and thick, and his eyes were a sparkly blueâjust about the same color as the sky, now that it was almost evening.
Ellen still thought Greg was cuter, because this guy looked like he might be a hick, with his dirty blue jeans and cowboy boots and flannel shirt with the cuffs rolled back. But he was pretty cute, anyhow. Stephanie would definitely think so. Stephanie had a thing for cowboys.
âSo.â The boy took a Tootsie Roll out of his pocket, unwrapped it, and stuffed it into his mouth. As he started to chew, he paused. He let his hand hover over his pocket, looked at her and raised his eyebrows. âWant one?â
She did. Though she hadnât noticed it before, she was starving. But she thought about the diet chart in her diary. And she thought about how sheâd look like a cow, chewing away at the sticky candy. He certainly did, although he obviously didnât care what she thought. âNo, thanks.â
ââK.â He chewed a little more. âSo what are you looking for?â
The sudden recollection of her awful mistake shot through her like a hot poker. How could she have been thinking about cute guys, or even her diet, when sheâd lost her motherâs earring?
âMy earring. It fell off.â
âYou yanked it off, you mean.â But the kid didnât sound judgmental, just factual. He chewed thoughtfully, his gaze scanning the overgrown grass. âWhat does it look like?â
She held out her hand, opening the palm to show him the match. He walked closer, put his hands on his knees, bent down and studied it without touching, the way he might look at a specimen in science class.
âIs that really yours? It looks kind of grown-up for you.â He tilted his head. âHow old are you?â
âIâm eleven,â she said, lifting her chin to look older, and, she hoped, skinnier. âIâm plenty old enough to wear earrings. Why? How old are you?â
He chewed on his lower lip briefly. âIâm ten,â he said.
âWhat grade?â
âFourth.â
Oh, man. He was a whole grade below her. She felt stupid for having thought he was cute. No wonder he carried Tootsie Roll candy around in his pocket and didnât care if he looked ugly chewing a wad of caramel in front of a girl.
âWell, Iâm going into fifth,â she said. âAnd these earrings are definitely mine. My mother gave them to me. It canât have gone far, but the grass is so high....â
She got back on her knees and started ruffling her palm over the grass, inch by inch. âItâs important.â
She glanced at him over her shoulder. âItâs real,â she said. Then, in case a cowboy kid wouldnât know what that meant, she added, âlike, I mean...real gold.â
He nodded, dropped to his knees and started combing the grass, too. He was working an area much closer to where sheâd been sitting, and she suddenly realized that was smarter. The earring wouldnât have flown this far.
She subtly worked her way back toward him, but her hopes were fading. This was like the old clichéâfinding a needle in a haystack. The thatch of golden-brown dead grass below the new growth was almost exactly the same color as the earring.
And it would be dark soon.
âSo will your mom be super mad? Will you get in trouble if we donât find it?â
She glanced over at the boy. It was nice, him saying we like that, as if they were partners in the hunt. He didnât have to help. He could have walked away and gone home.
âNot trouble from my mom.â She bent her head again. âMy mom died. Almost a year ago.â
âAw. Dang.â The boy paused and looked at her. âIâm sorry about that.â
She didnât respond. If her eyes got blurry with tears, she wouldnât have any chance at all of spotting the circle of gold in the grass.
âGot it!â The boy suddenly jumped to his feet, his fist in the air triumphantly.
Relief washed through her. She stood, too, holding out her hand.
He deposited the earring in her palm with a flourish. âThere you go!â
It felt cold, from lying on the ground. She closed her fingers, as if to chafe warmth back into it. She looked up at him, so grateful she forgot to play cool.
âThank you. Thank you so much....â
âAlec.â The boy grinned. âAlec Garwood, rancher, wrangler and part-time treasure hunter.â
She grinned back. She couldnât help it. She was so happy that she hadnât lost the only thing her mother had given her directly, with her own hands. And his smile was that kind of smile. The kind you could catch, like a cold.
âIâm Ellen Thorpe. We moved in today. Weâre renting the yellow cottage over there.â
âNo kidding!â Alec glanced at the cottage. âThatâs a cool place. So youâve just moved here? Where from?â
âWe havenât exactly moved. Weâre taking a year off while my dad works on a resort heâs building.â She didnât feel the need to mention the shoplifting, the bad grades, the arguments with her dad. âItâs more like a long vacation. But I still live in Chicago.â
He frowned, as if he might quarrel with that way of seeing things, but then he shrugged. âWhatever. Anyhow, those are pierced earrings. No wonder you lost them. Why donât you get your ears pierced, so they wonât fall off?â
She straightened. âMaybe I donât want to get my ears pierced.â
He looked skeptical about that, too. âAll girls want their ears pierced,â he said reasonably. âOh. I see. Youâre scared to?â
âOf course not. Itâs just that my dad wonât let me.â
Alec looked confused. âSo?â
She stared at him. âWhat do you mean, so?â
âI mean...so what? How can he stop you?â Alec grinned. âMy theory is Iâd rather
