I’ll leave you to it. And don’t worry. It’s not deep on this end, and it’s entirely private.” He took a step back. “I’ll be up the trail just a little ways, close enough to hear if you call. Take whatever time you need.”
Ivy watched him until he rounded a turn. Then she began unbraiding her hair. If she had to be stuck somewhere while Jubal healed, this was not a bad place to be.
And the company was quite nice, as well.
In fact, if she weren’t in such a hurry to get back and check on Nana Dovie, she wouldn’t mind the delay at all.
* * *
Mitch found a comfortable spot and settled on the ground with his back against a tree. He heard her break out in song and smiled at her slightly off-key but enthusiastic rendition of “Shall We Gather at the River?” as he opened his sketchbook.
Even injured, she was the most attack-life-head-on woman he’d ever met. Now that she was feeling better, she was definitely a force to be reckoned with. It was exhausting just being around her.
And strangely exhilarating, as well.
Did she really think him a fusspot? He wasn’t exactly certain what that was, but it definitely didn’t sound flattering. He had to admit, if only to himself, that it had been her name-calling that had made him give in on the subject of using first names. Was he so easily manipulated?
But the smile she’d given him when he capitulated had seemed strangely compelling. It had been quite some time since anyone had looked at him with such unabashed approval.
Shaking off the thought, Mitch took up his pencil and waited for inspiration. Normally he had no trouble finding a subject, but for some reason today was different. He finally settled on the image of the turtles sunning down by the lake.
Forty-five minutes later, Mitch looked up to see Ivy approaching. Her still-damp hair was loosely braided and she carried a load of wet laundry. The smile on her face reflected satisfaction and her eyes sparkled.
Her pleasure was infectious.
Closing his sketchbook, he stood and moved to meet her.
“Sorry I took so long,” she said, “but the water felt absolutely wonderful and I didn’t want to get out.” She nodded toward his sketchbook. “Did you get any drawing done?”
“I did.” He set his pad and pencil down. “Here, let’s swap. I’ll take those wet things from you and you take my sketch pad.”
To his surprise, she didn’t argue, but merely said thank you as she surrendered her load of soggy laundry.
Then he discovered why. As soon as she retrieved his pad, she opened it and studied the image inside. “It’s beautiful. You have such a wonderful God-given talent.”
Ivy certainly had a way about her.
“I see why you like coming here,” she said, interrupting his thoughts. “It’s such a marvelous place.”
“It’s only my second visit, but I’m enjoying this visit more than the first.” He was definitely enjoying the company more than he had that first time.
She gave him a questioning look. Then her gaze sharpened. “Aren’t those blackberries?”
Mitch followed the line of her gaze. “What do you know, a few end-of-season stragglers.”
She was already moving toward the brambly vines, and before he could so much as blink, she had popped one in her mouth. She closed her eyes and tilted her chin up. “Mmm.”
He watched, captivated by her expression of pure bliss. He couldn’t have moved if his boots were on fire.
She opened her eyes again.
“You should try some of these. They’re really good.” Then she looked contrite. “Oh, your hands are full. Allow me.”
She plucked a couple of berries and held them up to him. Without a word, he opened his mouth. Their eyes locked and she froze with her hand inches from his lips. Her eyes widened and her breath hitched. They were so close, he could count the freckles on her nose if he tried. He knew he should step back, but for the life of him he couldn’t do it. But closer, oh, yes, he could move closer with very little effort.
Then Rufus returned and Ivy took a step back.
Mitch silently berated himself. The temptation to kiss her had caught him unawares, surprising him with its swift intensity. But that was no excuse. He should have had tighter control of himself. What would have happened if Rufus hadn’t interrupted them?
He’d assured her he was an honorable man, that she had nothing to fear from him. Did she still believe it?
Did he?
His earlier thoughts about enjoying her company had come back to haunt him. For the first time since Gretchen’s death he’d let his guard down enough to take pleasure in a woman’s company. And look what had happened.
What was it about Ivy that she could get under his skin so easily?
Then he focused on her again.
Her cheeks were a becoming shade of pink, her expression reflected confusion. He felt a cad for having done that to her.
She turned to greet her dog, giving them both an opportunity to gather their composure.
He knew offering an apology would only make matters worse. His best course of action was to get things back on an easy, comfortable footing.
He cleared his throat. “What do you say we try out those cane poles? I’ve a hankering for some fried fish for lunch.”
“That sounds like fun.” She stood. “I seem to recall I’m supposed to show you how it’s done.”
He was relieved to see she’d already recovered some of her spirit. “Is that a challenge?”
“Yes, sir, I do believe it is.”
* * *
Ivy arranged the wet laundry on the porch railings. As soon as they’d made it back to the cabin, Mitch had disappeared around back to fetch the poles.
She wasn’t sure what had happened back there, but she was fairly certain it had been her fault. And she’d hate to think she’d done anything to make him think less of her. What on earth had she been thinking, offering to feed him those berries?
Mitch reappeared carrying a pair of cane poles and leading his horse.
She nodded toward Seeley. “Are you going somewhere?”
“Since we’re headed to the lake, I thought I’d refill the water barrel.”
She frowned. “You use your horse for that?”
“Yep.”
Puzzled, she watched as he maneuvered Seeley so the animal was backed up to the barrel. She moved closer and discovered the barrel sat on a low wooden
