A Weaver Vow. Allison Leigh

reaction to his wife doing it.

      Obviously recognizing his discomfort, Pam laughed. “Blame your cousin Lucy. She’s the one who hired Isabella. I was talking to Neesa Tanner at church this morning and she was raving over how much little Jenny likes her tap classes with Isabella.” She swiveled her stool around to face him. “You’ve got that boy of hers working out at your place. What do you think of her?” Her nose practically wriggled. “She’s single,” she said in a singsong tone.

      He made a face and turned back toward the television. Pam was the dispatcher, but even when she wasn’t on duty, she seemed compelled to dispatch news concerning the residents of Weaver. After a moment, he stood, dropped some cash on the bar for the beer he’d only partly consumed and headed out.

      His brain could stay preoccupied with a woman just as easily at home.

      “I hear she’s staying at your mom’s old house.” Pam’s voice followed him.

      He stopped cold at that revelation but tried to act nonchalant. “Oh, yeah? Small world.” Then, because something he didn’t want to examine really closely had started zipping through his veins, he sketched a wave and pushed out the entrance.

      Out in the parking lot, however, he raked his fingers through his hair, struggling with disbelief. He almost called his mom right then and there to ask why she had kept that particular nugget to herself, but fortunately a glimmer of common sense remained inside his head. Not that that glimmer kept him from driving right past that very house.

      His mom had grown up there, not moving out until she’d married his dad. But she’d never sold it. Somebody in the family had always seemed to find a use for it at one time or another through the years.

      The grass in the little rectangular yard was a bit overgrown, but otherwise, the place looked pretty much the same as it always had. White paint. Black trim.

      And in the picture window that looked in on the living room, he could see Isabella sitting at a table, her head propped in her hands. Weariness screamed from her hunched shoulders.

      The glimmer of sense faded to black. Winked out completely.

      He pulled next to the curb in front of the house and shut off the engine.

      She hadn’t budged.

      Calling himself ten kinds of fool, he got out of the truck, spotted the covered dish from his mom and grabbed it. It was still warm but no longer hot enough to need the towel. Dish in hand, he headed up the front walk and knocked on the door. From there he couldn’t see through the window, but it was only a few seconds before she pulled open the door.

      Her dark eyes widened and filled with alarm. “What are you doing here? I thought everything went okay yesterday.”

      He wanted to kick himself. “It did,” he assured her quickly. The last thing he wanted was to cause her more worry. “I was just at my folks’ place,” he added, holding out the dish. “And since I was passing this way anyway, figured I’d deliver these leftovers from my mom.” Hell. His ears were burning. “She remembers how much I ate when I was Murph’s age.”

      Her gaze dropped to the dish, then lifted back to his face for a moment before skittering away again. “I don’t know what to say.”

      He’d have been better off staying at Colbys and putting up with Pam. He lifted the lid. “Say you’re not a vegetarian.”

      She let out a sudden, breathy laugh. “This is a very unexpected surprise.” She reached for the dish and her fingers brushed against his as she took it. If she felt the tingling that he did, she showed no sign of it as she lifted the lid again and leaned over a little, inhaling deeply. “Smells wonderful.” She glanced up at him. “But would these leftovers be yours if not for us?”

      “You won’t be taking any food outta my mouth,” he assured her drily. “Every week I get another batch or two from someone. You’re saving my refrigerator from being overloaded.”

      “Well, then.” She smiled. “How can I refuse? I’m sure Murphy will devour it.”

      Erik could easily see over her head into the living room. the furniture was the same furniture that had been there for years, from the squishy, slightly worn couch to the round table in the dining area. “Where is he?” He couldn’t be certain, but the papers spread across the table looked like bills.

      “In his room doing homework.” Her smile turned wry. “Or else just avoiding me as much as he can.” She took a step back. “Would you like to come in?”

      She was wearing a pair of skinny blue jeans and an oversize white shirt that hung down to her thighs. Her white-blond hair was pinned up in a messy sort of knot on top of her head and her feet were bare.

      Everything about her was appealing.

      Except the sparkling diamond on her finger that blinked at him like a flashing stoplight.

      “Thanks, but I gotta head back home.”

      “Okay.” Her lips curved a little, seeming only to accentuate the fullness of her rosy lower lip. “I’ll be sure to get the dish back to your mother the next time I see her.”

      This was what he got for attributing the leftovers to his mom. “Just bring it out next time you drive Murph to the ranch.” He managed not to ask if he’d have to wait until Saturday for that. He had no intention of pushing it.

      “I’ll make sure she gets the dish with all the other stuff I’m collecting from her,” he added. “Now, go on and enjoy the rest of your Sunday,” he said.

      Her eyes turned bright and her dimple flashed. “I will,” she said, clasping the dish to her chest. “Especially now that I won’t even have to cook.”

      He managed a grin and turned to go.

      It was all he could do not to trip over his own two feet as he strode back to his truck.

      Whoever said the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach had it all wrong.

      All it took was a pair of flashing brown-black eyes and a mischievous dimple.