all. She was sitting on the edge of the strawberry bed, gazing up at the cloudless blue sky, her arms clasped around her bare knees. Daydreaming again.
“Pssst! Phoebe!”
Phoebe caught her breath. She didn’t know what to do. Someone must be nearby, but it was so weird that she couldn’t see anyone at all. Probably a wacko. Out here on the prairie? And how would a wacko know her name? Phoebe considered going into the house to tell her mother, then curiosity got the better of her. Whoever it was had to be hiding in here somewhere.
Probably Trevor. Her brother was a prankster. He could get up to anything.
She set down her pan of berries and moved quietly to the back of the bushes. She began to push her way behind the thicket, where the canes had grown up and intertwined with the fence, when she felt something—or someone—grab her ankle.
Her tiny shriek blended with his, “Shhhht!”
“Lewis!” She looked down and saw a male hand clutching her ankle, and a laughing, darkly handsome face. He was lying flat out in the long grass—no wonder she hadn’t seen him—and had snaked one hand under the fence to grab her as she’d crept along.
He let go and raised himself on one elbow, a finger to his lips and a significant nod in the direction of her sister.
“What are you doing here?” She leaned on the fence, ignoring his invitation to join him on the other side. But she wanted to giggle. Imagine!
“Come on over,” he urged.
She set her jaw stubbornly. “No! I want to know what you’re doing here.”
“Scared of me, huh?”
Phoebe answered by placing one sneaker on the lower rung of the fence and swinging herself over. She tossed her braids back—braids! He must think she was a real kid.
He sat up, grabbed her hand, and first thing she knew, he’d pulled her down beside him. “Careful! Don’t want anyone to see us.”
She did giggle then. She didn’t dare laugh too loudly in case Jilly heard her and came to investigate, but she was pretty sure it would take an earthquake to interrupt her sister’s daydreams, and even then Phoebe wouldn’t count on it.
She stopped laughing abruptly and turned her head to look at him. He was staring straight up at the blue sky, a stem of timothy grass in his teeth, looking very pleased with himself. His hair was too long, but he was so handsome, grown-up and handsome. “What are you doing here?”
“You really want to know?” He shot her a searching glance, then smiled. “Hey, you’re looking good, Phoebe. Real good. I like freckles.”
She wanted to hit him. Her freckles were the bane of her existence. Everyone had told her she’d grow out of them, but they seemed to go with her auburn hair, and so far there was no sign of them fading.
“How did you know my name? How did you know where I lived?”
“Asked Ma and Billy. They know all about you and your ma and your family. Think you’re wonderful folk.” There was a bitter edge to his words. “Wonderful kind folk.”
He was no doubt referring to the good works her mother and aunt carried out on behalf of the parish. Phoebe ignored the comment. She sat up, cross-legged, then remembered that they were supposed to be hiding and ducked down again. The crushed grass sent up a glorious green sweet scent.
“That’s better.” He grinned at her and she felt her heart lurch around unsteadily. He looked so good in his white T-shirt stretched across a man’s chest, his worn jeans. Her breath hurt in her throat. She remembered the last time they’d met—how he’d kissed her. She’d fantasized about that kiss for months, relived every second of it, until finally she’d had a few dates and got a boyfriend of her own and realized that kissing was no big deal.
“So, are you working around here?” She held her breath.
“No, uh…” He poked his head up over the grass and looked around quickly, then lay back down. “I’m still a special guest of Her Majesty.”
“In jail?” Phoebe felt her skin tighten and her hopes crush.
“I left in the laundry truck,” he said, grinning at her again. She did not smile back. Scratch “grown-up,” she thought sadly. He was still acting like a kid running away from home.
“When was that?” She felt sick inside. She didn’t really want to know. And yet she desperately wanted to know. She wanted to know everything about him.
“Four days ago. I know they’re looking for me. That’s why I couldn’t stay out at Ma’s anymore. I suppose I’m ready to go back. But, hey! I wanted to see you while I had the chance.”
He was teasing her. No question of that. She started to get up. “Well, now you’ve seen me. I’ve got some berries to pick and I guess you can just head back to the slammer. Or are you waiting until they catch you?”
“I don’t know,” he said. He plucked a new stem of grass and stuck it in his mouth. “Haven’t made up my mind yet.”
“Why do you do this, Lewis? Don’t you realize it doesn’t do your mother and sister any good? Don’t you want to make something of yourself? Turn your life around? Be somebody?”
He frowned up at her. “For what?”
“For…” She felt angry, really angry. For me. “For them. For yourself. For…oh, I don’t know!” She plucked a stem of grass and stuck the succulent end in her mouth.
“Hey,” he said, reaching for her hand. She shook him off. “You care, don’t you? You care what happens to me?”
“No, I don’t,” she said, throwing down the blade of grass and preparing to get up again. “Most definitely not. I don’t care a damn about you or if you want to throw your life away. I don’t even know you. I just don’t think it’s fair for your sister and your mom, alone up there on the hill.”
He sat up with her, apparently no longer caring if they were seen. He grabbed her hand and held it this time. “That’s not true, Phoebe. It’s me you care about.”
She couldn’t meet his gaze. She glanced down. She felt his free hand caress her cheek, then his fingers under her chin, forcing it up. “Right?”
She nodded mutely, her eyes filling with tears. Damn him anyway!
“Oh, man, you are such a sweet kid…” His voice was hoarse. He bent and kissed her and, heaven help her, she kissed him back, with every ounce of pent-up feeling she’d had for him since that day so many years ago when she’d spied on him and he’d caught her and had tossed her the little wooden frog.
She reached to put her arms around him as his arms were around her, and they tumbled back down and he rolled and shifted his weight onto her. It felt good! She gave herself up to the sensation of Lewis stretched beside and above her and the warm grass and the bright sky and the soothing buzz of grasshoppers nearby. And kissing. Everything was so peaceful. Except this—what was happening between them.
His breath was hot on her face and neck as he kissed her all over,
