yellow dress she’d described in the mercantile yesterday, bore a plate between her hands as if it held the Queen of England’s crown. The spiteful gleam in her eyes put Sophie on guard.
“Hello, Sophie.” Her smile smacked of gloating superiority. “Nathan.” She completely ignored Pauline.
“Hi, April.” Nathan set aside his empty plate. “How have you been?”
“I’ve been a busy woman of late, I must admit. I made this dress especially for tonight. What do you think?”
“I, ah...” Clearly not expecting such a question, he scrounged for an appropriate response. Shot Sophie a help-me look, which she ignored. What could she do but wait April out? “It’s very nice.”
April batted her lashes, cherry-red lips widening into a wolf-in-sheep’s-clothing smile. “Why, you’re kind to say so. This isn’t all I’ve been busy making, though. This here is a special family recipe—my great-grandmother Bertha’s delicious cinnamon-apple pie. I heard apple was your favorite, so I brought you a slice.”
She extended the plate toward him, which he accepted with a slight nod.
“That’s thoughtful of you, April. Thank you.”
Of course he would be polite. He wouldn’t embarrass her by correcting her. It smarted that he had no such reservations when it came to Sophie.
She stared at the plate, feeling slightly queasy. The slice closest to her was the apple. But what was the other one? Was it too much to hope it wasn’t what she suspected it was?
She craned her neck to get a glimpse.
“I also brought you a piece of Sophie’s pie,” April tacked on with an innocent air. “I haven’t tried it yet, but I sure am eager to see what it tastes like, aren’t you?”
Chapter Seven
Something told him this already dismal outing was about to get worse. Much worse.
Beside him, Sophie fidgeted with nerves, tugging on the sleeves of her brown shirt, fiddling with the collar. And April’s too-cheerful demeanor rang false. By now, Pauline and his family were watching the exchange with interest.
Shooting Sophie a quizzical glance, he kept his voice low. “I didn’t realize you’d made a pie.”
“It was a spur-of-the-moment decision.”
One she regretted, judging by the way she was gnawing on her bottom lip, dread stalking her eyes. The pulse at the base of her slender throat jumped.
“What are you waiting for?” April’s silken voice prompted.
“Right.”
Dreading this almost as much as Sophie, he sank his fork into the fluffy layers of crust and soft apples and lifted it to his mouth. April hadn’t exaggerated. The blend of sweet fruit and spices melted on his tongue.
“I can understand why your family has held on to this recipe. It’s wonderful.”
Pauline leaned forward. “I like apple, too. I wish you’d brought me one, April.”
A flicker of annoyance dimmed her gloating pleasure, and she shot the blonde a look that suggested she get her own. “Now the rhubarb.”
Sophie inhaled sharply, but he didn’t look at her. Couldn’t.
Best to get this over with as quickly as possible. The pie didn’t look half bad, he mused as he forked a bite. Maybe Sophie would surprise them all.
Then again, maybe not.
The crust tasted doughy as if undercooked, and the rhubarb filling was so tart it made his jaw ache. He fought a grimace as he forced himself to chew quickly and swallow the offensive bite, blinking at the tears smarting his eyes.
“Drink,” he choked out.
Kate slapped her tea jar into his outstretched hand and he drank long and deep. He thanked her and she nodded, a line of concern between her brows.
“It doesn’t appear you enjoyed that very much.” Arms crossed, April wore a smug expression.
Without warning, Sophie leaned close and, snagging the fork from his hand, scooped up a piece for herself. He watched her chew once, her eyes growing big, lashes blinking furiously as she choked. Behind him, his ma made a commiserating sound.
“I don’t understand.” Sophie shook her head in consternation, her thick, shimmering braid sliding over her shoulder. “I followed Ma’s recipe very carefully. I did exactly what it said—”
When she clapped her hand over her mouth, he prompted, “What?”
“There was a smudge.” She spoke without removing her hand, muffling her words. “A water stain, actually, right where she’d written the amount of sugar. So I guessed.”
April’s lip curled. “Don’t you know baking is a science? You can’t guess at it or else you’ll have a disaster on your hands.” Whirling around in a swish of skirts, she marched in the direction of the dessert table, waving her hands to get the attention of those within hearing distance. “Do not eat Sophie Tanner’s rhubarb pie, folks! Not if you want to avoid a terrible stomachache.” Scanning the table, she located the pie and deposited it into the nearest waste bin. People stopped and stared. When Nathan caught the triumphant smirk she shot over her shoulder in their direction, his blood burned white-hot.
There was movement beside him, the air stirring and with it the familiar scent of Sophie—dandelions and sunshine and innocence. He pulled back from his anger long enough to see her hurrying away.
“I’ll go talk to her.” Kate started to get up.
“No, I’ll do it.” He waved her off before getting to his feet. “But first, I’m going to have a word with Miss Littleton.”
“Nathan, wait.” Josh pushed up from the tree and laid a hand on his shoulder. “What’s it going to look like if you go marching over there and yell at her? Look around, brother. Everyone’s watching. I think it would be best if you focus on Sophie right now.”
“She didn’t deserve to be humiliated like that,” he grumbled.
“No, she didn’t,” Josh agreed, questions swirling in his blue eyes as he studied him. “It’s not like you to lose it. What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
At least, nothing he could confess. Josh was right. Of the three brothers, he was the calm, controlled one. The quiet one. Some would even say shy.
But for weeks now he’d been wrestling with confusing reactions to a girl he’d always viewed as a pal, an unexpected and unwelcome awareness of her that frustrated him to no end. And his ability to contain that frustration was becoming less and less sure.
Josh squeezed his shoulder. “Whatever it is, you know you can talk to me anytime.”
“I know.” Slowly, he unclenched his hands. Took a calming breath. “I’d better go find her.”
He took a single step, then remembered. With an inward wince, he turned back. “I’m sorry, Pauline, but I have to—”
With a tentative smile, she waved him on. “Go. Your friend needs you right now.”
“Thanks for being understanding.”
Feeling slightly guilty for neglecting his date, he started off in search of Sophie, wondering why his life had suddenly become messy. He didn’t do messy. He preferred things clear-cut. Straightforward. No surprises.
The problem was that Sophie was synonymous with unpredictability. She blurred his thinking. Knocked him off-kilter. He didn’t like that.
He used to be able to ignore it or to simply brush her off, but...they weren’t kids anymore. Things had changed without him wanting or