bidder.” He jerked a thumb, strap and all, toward her nemesis. “That means Wade here. Don’t you worry none. I’ll keep an eye peeled. See he treats you proper.”
Abigail sighed. What choice did she have? Cecil was right. Hadn’t she said much the same to Seth and Paul? That the highest bidder deserved to share Betty Jo’s lunch. She’d go through the motions, but wouldn’t surrender, wouldn’t eat a bite with the enemy.
She thanked Cecil, assuring him she didn’t need his protection. Then cheeks burning, she marched past smiling onlookers toward a cluster of trees, Wade bringing up the rear.
Once she reached a shady spot, she removed her hat and gloves, an attempt to cool herself and her temper. While he tossed his hat aside and sat leaning against the tree, one booted foot stretching within inches of her skirts. She un-wrapped the lunch, laying out the contents on the checkered cloth, ignoring, or trying to, his long-legged presence. With trembling fingers she loaded his plate then shoved it into his hand.
“Thanks. Looks delicious.” He had the audacity to pat the spot beside him. “Join me.” He scooted over, as if she’d consent.
“You’ll enjoy your own company far better than mine.”
“You underestimate yourself.” He laid his plate aside, rose and filled the other, then handed it to her. “I insist.” That stubborn look in his eye said he wouldn’t tolerate refusal.
Glaring at him, she accepted the food and then sat on the far side of the checkered cloth, as if that scrap of material could provide a barrier between them.
“I hope you get indigestion,” she said, ramming a fork into the mound of potato salad on her plate.
He chuckled. “You’ve changed.”
The accusation scorched her cheeks. If she had changed, the fault could be laid at Cummings’s feet. “Why would you bid on my lunch when half a dozen young ladies would’ve swooned over the privilege of dining with New Harmony’s most eligible bachelor?” She’d laced her tone with sarcasm though her meaning probably had bounced off his inflated ego.
The corners of his mouth slanted up. “Maybe I wanted to save you from that timid beau of yours.”
“Leon is not my beau.” She shot him a blistering look, surely hot enough to ignite green, water-soaked timber. He didn’t flinch.
“I see him squiring you around town. What do you call him then?”
Why did timid ring true?
“It’s none of your business.”
He munched on the chicken leg then licked his fingers like a mannerless child. Yet the sheer power of those broad shoulders, the length of his legs, the sinewy forearms made it abundantly clear, Wade was no child.
“Delicious,” he said then cocked his head, studying her. “I suspect I’m lucky you didn’t know you were cooking for me, instead of Mr. Timid.”
“You know perfectly well that his name is Leon Fitch. He works for the Cummings State Bank.” She arched a brow. “But you’re right about one thing. If I had known you would share my lunch, I’d have been tempted to season the food with a laxative.”
Eyes alight with amusement, even approval, he chuckled. The absurdity of her claim even had her giggling. “That spunky attitude of yours is exactly why I want to talk to you,” he said.
Abigail had no idea what he meant, but whatever Wade Cummings wanted she was having no part of it.
The chuckle died in Wade’s throat. Too much hinged on Abby’s answer. The resentment he read in her eyes and knew he’d caused socked him in the gut. “To answer your question—I had to bid on your lunch to get you to talk to me.”
As he watched, the truth of his words flitted across her face, a most attractive face even dappled with patterns of sunlight and shade. His fingers itched to free her hair, to see her fair tresses cascade over those slender shoulders as they had the day of the school picnic.
Expression wary, she fiddled with a delicate chain she wore. “What on earth would you want to talk to me about?”
This feminine female possessed a forceful attitude—exactly why he required her assistance. “I’m in a bind.”
She gave a snort. A flush climbed her neck, no doubt reacting to what she’d see as unladylike behavior. “As if a Cummings doesn’t have everything he could possibly desire.”
Her erroneous claim gnawed at him. Wade could think of many things in his life he’d like to change, but he merely shrugged. “I’m not the only one in a predicament. To be blunt, your family’s mired in trouble.”
“Yes, along with five other families. The reason for this fundraiser.”
“The fire isn’t your only problem. Everyone in town knows Joe’s up to his neck in gambling debts.”
The sudden flash in her eyes promised she’d support her brother-in-law with her last breath.
“Joe found the Lord and turned his life around. I couldn’t be prouder of anyone.”
Family loyalty, they were both drowning in it.
“So I heard. But his faith in God hasn’t solved his financial mess, has it?”
Her gaze dropped to her hands. “If he had an education, Joe could pay off his debts faster, but all he knows is farming.”
“Joe’s a hard worker. If he were able-bodied, he’d climb out from under that mountain of debt eventually. But he’s banged up and unable to work for what…weeks, maybe months? Add the loss of everything in the fire and money’s got to be a problem.”
Eyes sparking with fresh indignation, she scrambled to her feet. “Do you get some perverse pleasure out of enumerating my family’s troubles?”
In an attempt to point out the gravity of her situation, he’d gone too far and ruffled her feathers. Not an approach that would gain her cooperation. “I couldn’t be happier that Joe’s turned his life around.” He laid his plate aside, his appetite gone. “I’m not the villain you make me out to be.”
Those crystal-blue eyes hardened until they glittered like multifaceted diamonds. “You and your family have—”
“Does everything have to come back to that?”
Her hands fisted on her hips as she bent toward him. “Pretend you’re faultless if you want. Pretend nothing stands between us if you want. Pretend the feud between our families is juvenile if you want. But that doesn’t change the truth.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t care about our relationship. But I do care what your father’s done to my family. Thanks to George Cummings calling our loan we lost our farm, land that had been in my mother’s family for two generations.” Her voice broke. “Losing the farm destroyed my father.”
Abby’s allegations gnawed at Wade. His father maintained he’d done nothing illegal, nothing any good banker wouldn’t have done. Wade had been at the bank long enough to believe his father spoke the truth, but Abigail saw smart business decisions as treachery. To make
