Worth the Weight (10 page)

Having gotten some good sun these past few days, she’d been excited about the shorts and ready to show off some thigh, but she couldn’t help envisioning the dough passing through her system in record time to adhere itself directly to her inner thighs and saddlebag area. The shorts were history.

She still looked okay, she surmised, if not a little more conservative than she had planned.

Balancing her offering, she shut the door to the Navigator and headed to the house, her flat sandals choosing the grass rather than the dusty walkway. The noise made
Finn
’s son turn. Though they were over fifty yards away from each other, Lizzie saw the boy’s eyes slowly trail up her body in much the same way his father had done the first night she’d seen him at the
Mine Shaft
.

The boy was lanky, with none of
Finn
’s power in his physique. Knowing zilch about the growth development of boys,
she
wondered if he’d fill out later, or if this was to be his basic build. His hair was lighter than
Finn
’s, almost a towhead blond, so abundant in the Finnish-laced Copper Country.
Finn
’s mother was Finnish, Lizzie remembered
. S
he wondered if his ex-wife was, too. She couldn’t tell the boy’s eye color from here, but his face was all
Finn
. Angles, cheekbones, what seemed hard and masculine in
Finn
seemed almost fragile in the boy.

She
wondered for a moment if she could just pretend she hadn’t seen the boy, but decided to get the inevitable over with. For Pete’s sake, she was acting like an idiot. She could walk into a boardroom
full
of strangers and have them all l
iking
her in minutes, she could certainly handle a teenage boy.

The boy’s eyes, still roaming her body, came to rest.
She
wasn’t sure if it was on the items she clutched, or on her breasts. She lowered her arms holding the wine bottle and the package of cookies to her sides and the kid’s eyes stayed locked where they were. Definitely not on the items she’d brought.
Cheeky little thing
. The idea that
Finn
had probably been exactly the same way at that age made her smile.

She walked toward the field and the kid, setting the wine, cookies and her purse on the veranda as she passed the house. The smile was still on her face as she got to the boy. Oh yeah, she thought, as she noticed his startling blue eyes still staring at her breasts as she neared, he’s gonna be just like his dad.

Knowing this, and knowing nothing about kids, she handled him as she would his father. “Hey. I’m Lizzie,” she said for greeting, raising her chin in salutation.

He raised his chin to her for response. “Stevie.”

The boy’s glance returned to
her
Navigator then back to Lizzie. She could see the pieces
falling into place for him that she was the one his dad had been with when he got out of that vehicle on the bridge. That was something to talk about.

“You get it pretty bad the other night?”

The boy seemed startled by her comment. She probably sounded just like one of his buddies asking the same thing. “Oh yeah, grounded for a week,” he told her, with almost a tinge of pride attached.

“A week, sheesh, that’s tough.”

“It wasn’t that tough, it’s already over, eh?”

That’s right, that had been nearly ten days ago.
Finn
hadn’t wanted to see her for ten days. She was extra glad now that she wore what she did, it felt a little more substantial, more armor-like than her previous choice.
Still, he had invited her here, that had to mean something, didn’t it?

A car pulling into the driveway drew both
of
their attention. Seeing who it was, Stevie walked past her, wiping his dirty hands down the sides of his beat up jeans. “That’s my friend and his dad, they’re picking me up.” He was already beyond her, out of the field and headed to the veranda where Lizzie now noticed a duffel bag and a rolled up sleeping bag.

Stevie picked them both up and headed for the car as the driver waved out the window to Lizzie, obviously mistaking her for someone who was in some way involved with Stevie. “I’ll drop him off tomorrow on our way to church, around ten, okay?”
She
waved in return and that seemed to satisfy the father in the car.

Stevie was nearly at the car when Lizzie called out, “Hey Stevie.” The boy turned to her. “Your dad around?”

He nodded his head toward the dilapidated barn. “He’s in there.”

“Okay, thanks. It was nice meeting you.”

“It was nice to meet you.” His hand was on the car door now, and he stopped and faced her again. “Has Annie
met
you yet?”

“Who’s Annie?”

A chilling, almost devil-like smile crept up his face, “Oh man, she’s gonna have a cow when she finds out about you.” He shoved his stuff in the car in front of him then climbed in. With one last wave, and Stevie still wearing that eerie grin, the car drove away.

The lights were on as
she
entered the barn so it was easy to locate
Finn
. He was halfway down the length of the building. He stood at the gate of one of the horse stalls, his strong thigh raised, his work boot hitched over a low board on the gate entrance. He leaned slightly, his forearms resting on the top of the gate, one wrist on top of the other. The lean muscles of his back were tight against his dusty tee shirt that in another life had been a pristine white. His head was bowed slightly and his eyes were glued to the empty stall, not really seeing it.

He looked...defeated. Like a boxer on the ropes, not wanting to be beaten any longer. Her heart started to go out to him but she quickly slammed on the brakes. Not on
Finn
. Don’t give your newfound emotions to
Finn
. That wasn’t part of the plan.

She may be able to put her heart on hold, but she did nothing to stop the physical yearnings that slammed into her as she watched
Finn
shift his weight and put his other foot on the wooden railing. The movement made his jeans, which were second-skin worn, pull tight across his backside. She involuntarily was licking her lips as
he
noticed her and turned to look at her.

Her gesture didn’t
escape him. “Like what you see
?”

His arrogance was nothing new to her; in fact, it was one of the things she
’d
liked about
him. Arrogance in a life mate would not be desirable, but a cocky guy was just the one you wanted
when looking for a purely down-and-dirty, no-holds-
barred
,
make-sure-you-have-a-safe-
word
, sex partner.

“I do. Hay always makes me hot,” she delivered her line in her best “Happy Birthday, Mr. President” breathy, sexpot voice.

He chuckled and the thought of making him laugh, when only moments ago he had seemed so low, made her smile. The idea that maybe their little interlude would bring him some comfort, or even just a few laughs (though hopefully not when she was naked), made her feel better about the whole thing.

“I thought I was always what made you hot.” He started to walk toward her, covering the distance of half the barn in only a few, lengthy strides.

“That’s what I let you believe, to salvage your fragile ego, but it was always the hay,
Finn
... always the hay.”

He
was now only a step away from
her
, and just when she was about to put her arms out for the coming embrace, he stopped. “Well, I guess there’s one good thing about being a hayseed, you get all the best women. Did I tell you how sexy long hair is on you, Liz?”

Lord, how this man could get to her. She could have been a schoolgirl as she twirled the ends of her hair that she had worn pulled back into a low ponytail.

Sure, she had played business games with adults. There, she was on sure footing. But here, playing flirting games…it seemed like a lifetime ago when she’d last done this. It
was
a lifetime ago.
This was a new life. And this was why she was here…to practice.

Her hand rose and followed her hairline from her scalp all the way down. She swung her ponytail over her shoulder to land on her breast; where she began to smooth it down, almost stroke it. She watched as
his
eyes never left her hands, saw the corners of his mouth turn up in approval. Maybe this flirting stuff is like muscle memory. Even if you think you’ve forgotten it, your body recalls the motions.

“Thanks, it’s relatively new to me.”

“What is?” He was jarred out of his hair-watching reverie.

“My hair. Having long hair. I only started growing it out three years ago. I’d had short hair all my adult life.”

“What made you decide to grow it long?” His gaze now moved to her face.

She hesitated, searched for words. “I just decided it was time to try some things in life that I hadn’t tried yet.”

“A little young to be having a mid-life crisis, aren’t you?”

She chuckled, “Yeah, but growing my hair was so much cheaper than buying a red sports car.” She remembered Stevie. “Oh, by the way, the man who picked up Stevie said he’d drop him off tomorrow at ten.”

His
body seemed to tense, but he just nodded acknowledgement of
her
message. “So, he was still here when you got here? Did you talk to him?”

“Of course I talked to him.” What she really wanted to ask was
who’s Annie
?

“What did he say to you?”

He mentioned Annie if that’s what you’re afraid of. And what’s worse for you,
Finn
, it sounds like he’ll mention me to Annie if he gets a chance
. “Not much, it wasn’t long before his ride showed up.”

She paused, waiting for him to speak. When he didn’t, she said, “Why didn’t you tell me
you had a son?”

It looked like he was going to deny that he’d kept Stevie from her, but then he shrugged. He went to the side of the barn where there were piles of empty quart containers and began to stack them. “I don’t know. It just didn’t come up at first, and then...”

She
walked over to where he worked and began to stack some of the containers herself. He seemed to be putting them in piles of ten, so she followed suit. When he noticed what she was doing, he took her hands and led her away from the piles. “Don’t Liz, these quarts are all stained up, you’ll get yourself dirty.” His eyes swept her body, but this time it was no sexual perusal, but almost a paternal look. “You look so nice and clean. Don’t get that pretty blouse stained with strawberry. Believe me, it’s hell to get out of clothes.”

She wanted to protest, but was pleased at his thoughtfulness. He returned to the pile and kept stacking while
she
watched. Enjoyed watching. He was squatting, balancing on his haunches and once again she watched the muscles in his back ripple as he reached for a discarded container.

“The kids I hire to pick in the mornings do this. They show up with lots of energy, but four or five hours bent over in the field gets them pretty tired, so by the time they put away the unused quarts, they pretty much just throw them in this general direction. They’re good kids, though.”

She
watched as
he
quickly put the work area back together. He was putting the stacks on several tables constructed from wooden planks over sawhorses. The tables held empty quarts and several wooden carriers, designed to carry ten quarts at a time. The side of the barn directly across from him, to Lizzie’s right, contained bales of hay piled high, a pitchfork and three wheelbarrows, their paint chipped and peeling. The hay was to put on the bed of the fields during picking time, and to cover the plants after the season. The rest of the barn was empty, including the eight stalls, and once again
she
wondered what had happened to
Finn
’s horses. She wasn’t about to ask, though
. One
uncomfortable subject at a time.

“Back to Stevie.”

“Right. I don’t know
.” He finished his work and was at her side once again. He stood with his hands on his hips, his fingers just barely entering the tops of the pockets of his jeans. Wranglers,
she
noted. He’d always worn Wranglers and she had always hated it. Only
real
cowboys wore Wranglers. Nobody in the U.P., they all wore tried and true Levi’s.

They sure did fit him well, though. She found herself drawn more to the fit of the jeans across his backside than the label that resided there. That may have been a first for label-conscious Lizzie.

“I’m certainly not hiding Stevie from you, it’s just that, bringing kids into what I took our arrangement to be, didn’t seem…necessary.”