He cocked his head, and she sighed. “Promise.”
“Okay, then.”
She hadn’t noticed his bizarre reaction to her, John thought while he opened the driver’s door and closed it behind her. As he swung onto the tractor and increased the throttle, he counted himself fortunate to escape with his male dignity intact.
No doubt about it, he still had a very soft spot for Amanda Gardner. He’d have to watch his step.
* * *
John came through the door around six the next morning, drawn by the prospect of breakfast. The sun peeking over the hills was all he needed to get him in gear, but he knew Matt, Ridge and their farmhands would appreciate the coffee already brewing. The stainless-steel, commercial-grade coffeemaker was steaming away, filling one pot on the bottom while another waited on top.
Then he realized something was wrong. The smell wasn’t as strong as usual. When he noticed the pot was filled with mostly water, he got up to remedy the problem.
As he was pulling the container from the cupboard, he heard, “What are you doing?”
Without turning, he pressed the pause button and started scooping grounds into the empty filters. “Adding coffee to your coffee.”
Amanda muttered something very unladylike. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Sorry.”
When he turned to face her, he felt his jaw start to drop and had to remind himself to keep his mouth closed. She’d obviously washed her own clothes last night.
Dressed in faded jeans and a pink tank, she looked like she was ready for a picnic, not a day of housework. Her damp, curly hair was pulled up into a bouncy ponytail, a few stray pieces framing those incredible eyes. The war paint was gone, and her face had that fresh-as-a-daisy quality he’d missed yesterday.
He’d known his fair share of blonde, blue-eyed women, preferred them actually. But none of them had ever matched the one standing only a few feet away. He’d thought his imagination had idealized her over the years, making her seem more beautiful than she’d actually been. Seeing her now proved that he’d remembered every detail of her perfectly.
Amanda was watching him, holding the kids’ lunch boxes in her hands. She didn’t look scared, but she didn’t look confident, either. John knew how she felt. Considering their spontaneous embrace last night, he was beginning to have serious doubts about her staying at the farm.
Seeing her this way wasn’t helping any.
“Thanks for the help. I guess I’m not quite awake,” she confided with a dainty yawn.
“No problem.” Backing away to cover his discomfort, he nodded at the coffeemaker. “Some of that will help.”
“Oh, I don’t drink it anymore.”
John couldn’t believe his ears. In high school, she’d been a total caffeine hound. “Since when?”
“It’s been a while now.” She cast a longing look at the filling pot, then turned away to get some plates out of the cupboard. “Waffles are warming in the oven, and there’s fresh strawberries. Would you like some?”
John felt odd having her wait on him as if he was at a restaurant instead of in his sister’s kitchen. “Sure, but I’ll get ’em. You’ve got enough to do getting the kids ready for school.”
“Okay.”
While she pulled lunch supplies out of the cupboard, he heaped a plate with waffles. “This is kinda weird, huh? Your working here, I mean,” he added to be clear. He didn’t want her thinking he was up all night wondering what had brought her here. He hadn’t thought about it. Much.
Shrugging, she started spreading peanut butter onto sandwiches. “A little.”
“Well, don’t feel like you have to wait on us or anything,” he advised as he sat down. “We all know where everything is.”
Glancing over, she narrowed her eyes. “Meaning I don’t?”
Sensing he’d unintentionally touched a nerve, John sat back, hands in the air. “Meaning nothing. We’re just not the type of folks who have a housekeeper is all.”
“And I am, is that it?”
“Well, aren’t you?” Sensing they were headed for an argument they’d both regret, he tried to defuse it with a grin. “I mean, you can’t even make coffee.”
She didn’t even try to zing him back, and started hunting through the cupboards for something. He could have asked what she wanted, but after the slap down he’d gotten, he wasn’t inclined to be helpful just now.
Touchy, John thought as he pawed through the newspaper for the sports section. When he glanced over and caught her observing him, her disapproving frown told him she didn’t like the way he’d fanned the paper out across the table. Well, too bad. He’d done that every morning of his life since his father had taught him how to read the baseball box scores. He wasn’t about to change just because some uptight California girl didn’t like a mess.
As she reached into the fridge for drink boxes, she said, “I’m sorry for jumping down your throat.”
“It’s okay. You’ll feel better once you get the hang of things.”
“I thought my PR job was tough,” she confessed while she plucked grapes and dropped them into small plastic containers. “But I only had to worry about my clients and myself, and I had plenty of help. Keeping a family going is a thousand times harder. I don’t know how Marianne does it.”
“Experience,” John replied. “Don’t forget, she got a lot of practice with me.”
Amanda laughed, and in view of the rocky start their morning had gotten off to, John considered that a major improvement.
“Those pocket doors between the kitchen and living room are really nice,” she went on in a much more pleasant tone. “When did you add those?”
“The slots have always been there, but the doors were in the attic. Matt and I put them up last weekend to give Marianne and Ridge some privacy. They’re solid oak, so they keep out a lot of noise, too. Lets Marianne rest when she needs it.”
Dropping the drinks and grapes into each bag, Amanda glanced over at him. “You’re really worried about her, aren’t you?”
John never mentioned it, since he was supposed to be the optimist in the family. But her sympathetic tone made him nod. “We all are. Twins are tough for anyone, and she’s not twenty anymore. Just don’t tell her I said that.”
Smiling, Amanda gave him a broad wink. “I’m great at keeping secrets.”
She sure was. It was driving him nuts, wondering what was going on. Before his good sense could talk him out of bringing it up, he said, “Speaking of secrets, you need to tell me what’s going on.”
“I drove out here from California and my car broke down,” she answered while she filled the waffle iron with batter.
Cocking his head, he scowled. “And?”
Sighing, she closed the griddle and flashed him a hesitant look. “My parents know, but I’m not sure you want to hear it.”
Folding his hands on the table, he gave her his full attention. “Try me.”
She wet a dishcloth and started cleaning the counter. John knew perfectly well she was trying to avoid looking at him, but he let it go.
“About a year ago,” she began, “this new executive joined our firm. Over drinks one night, he said he was divorced and interested in dating me. We were together about six months before Ted finally told me he was still technically married.”
“Ted who?”
Shaking her head,