The Husband Hunt (Smoky Mountain Matches)

by Kirst, Karen

  “You know what I mean,” she remarked with studied carelessness. “There are some people you can see yourself with in a romantic relationship, while others simply don’t appeal to you in that way.”

  “I suppose.”

  She angled toward him. “Does Pauline appeal to you in that way?”

  The question stumped him, as did the husky note of vulnerability in her voice. “Pauline and I are friends,” he grumbled with finality. He was not about to discuss this with her.

  “Only friends? You don’t have more serious intentions?” Her sapphire orbs glittered with an odd light. “Because as far as I can tell, she’s perfect for you.”

  Why such a statement should irk him, he had no idea. A dull throb set up behind his eyes. “We’re here to focus on your love life, not mine.”

  The gathering erupted into high-pitched whistles and clapping. April emerged from behind the sheet looking like a cat with a bowl of cream. Landon, who must’ve finally guessed correctly, surged out of his seat and received a fair share of hearty claps on the back.

  “What forfeit shall he pay?” someone demanded.

  Wearing a smug smile, Landon raised his hands to curtail the suggestions. “Since I’m the one who made the right guess, I should name the forfeit.” Holding out his arm, he wiggled his eyebrows. “How about a stroll in the gardens, Miss Littleton?”

  “I’d love to.” Eyelashes fluttering, she placed her hand on his arm and, together, the pair made their way to the exit amid suggestive laughter.

  Nathan scowled. Surely Sophie didn’t think Landon romantic?

  * * *

  Sophie tracked Landon and April’s progress until they disappeared into the hallway, his blond-haired perfection set off by her dark hair and olive skin. They looked entirely too chummy for her peace of mind. Perhaps Nathan was right to ask—make that demand—that she remove the gentleman’s name from her list. There was a self-important air about him, a look in his gorgeous eyes that led her to believe he was very aware of his attributes and how he affected women.

  Still, it annoyed her that Nathan refused to explain himself, instead expected her to follow his directions without question.

  Spying his identical twin cousins, Jessica and Jane, in the arched doorway, she decided to let it slide for the time being.

  Nearly sixteen, the girls were lovely in both appearance and manner, their auburn hair similar to oldest sister Juliana’s and blue eyes the same shape and hue as Megan’s, the second eldest. Sophie and the girls were somewhat close in age, and the twins had occupied the seats in front of her and Kenny at school. They’d been unfailingly kind to her. Since completing her final term a year ago this past spring, she’d missed visiting with them. Oh, she saw them at church every weekend and occasionally at Nathan’s place, but it wasn’t the same.

  Jessica, the more outgoing and spontaneous of the two, spotted them and waved, her heart-shaped face radiating her excitement. She nudged her sister and nodded in their direction. Jane’s reaction was more reserved but no less sincere, her smile widening in genuine pleasure.

  “The twins are here,” she told Nathan, who was staring into his drink as if it held the answers to all his problems.

  His brows lowered. “Aren’t they a little young for this sort of thing?”

  “Their birthday is in two weeks,” she pointed out. “Besides, it appears your aunt Alice approved or they wouldn’t have come.”

  As they made their way across the polished wood floor, their upswept curls shone coppery in the candlelight. Jessica wore a scoop-necked, sea-blue shirtwaist with cap sleeves and dainty silk bows adorning the skirt’s hemline. Jane had chosen a more simple look—a holly-green, short-sleeved dress with a single row of pearl buttons on the bodice. The O’Malley girls were always dressed to impress due to middle sister Nicole’s talent with a needle and thread.

  Sophie became ultra-aware of her appearance, feeling drab and unattractive in her black pants and unadorned button-down shirt, the unsophisticated style of her hair and her lack of polish. How could she hope to snag any man’s attention? Even if she was able to choose an acceptable candidate, what was the likelihood the man in question would be interested? Serious doubts wormed their way into her mind, doubts that she could pull this off, that she could keep Will with her.

  She must have made some sort of noise, because Nathan’s warm fingers grazed her elbow. “Soph?” His intent gaze probed hers.

  “I’m fine.” She drummed up a smile for her friends. “Hey, girls, I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

  Jessica gave her a quick hug. “We convinced Mama to let us come with Nicole.” She motioned over her shoulder to their raven-haired sister staring moodily around, elegant in all black and easily the most beautiful girl in attendance. Her sourpuss attitude marred her features, however.

  Jane took Sophie’s hands in hers, expressive eyes brimming with compassion. “How are you holding up?”

  Sophie fought the sorrow that reared up, the empty hole her granddad’s passing had created threatening to swallow her whole. “I’m okay.” That wasn’t the case, of course, but she wasn’t about to risk a meltdown here in front of everyone.

  Nathan frowned.

  She looked away, unable to bear his concern.

  “Have you heard from Megan recently?” Sophie’s voice was thick as she sought to change the subject. “How are she and Lucian enjoying their wedding trip?”

  “We received a letter just the other day,” Jane said, smiling gently, “and she wrote that they are enjoying their time in New Orleans so much that they are extending their stay another week.”

  “I’m glad. It’s generous of them to allow us to use their house while they’re away.”

  The stately yellow Victorian had belonged to Lucian Beaumont’s late grandfather, Charles Newman, who, along with Megan, had opened it up for the community’s use. Every Friday afternoon, Megan hosted story time for the local children. And once a month people met here for poetry night, musical recitals and plays. Fred and Madge Calhoun were in charge of the property until the couple returned home.

  “Time for Blind Man’s Bluff.” Tanner Norton waved a bunch of white strips above his head. “Who’s in?”

  “I thought only one person played the role of the blind man,” Jessica commented.

  Sophie rolled her eyes. “Tanner is forever changing up the rules. Says it makes things more interesting.”

  As he passed out the blindfolds, the twins voiced their interest. “Let’s play.”

  While Sophie didn’t normally mind joining in the games—they were harmless fun—tonight she had an agenda. “I don’t think so.”

  Jessica linked her arm through Sophie’s. “You have to play! This is our first time at a single’s party and we want to have fun.”

  Oh, what harm could one game do? “All right.”

  “Wonderful. Tanner, over here!” Extending her hand, Jessica caught his attention and snagged three strips, handing one to her sister and one to Sophie.

  Jane looked at Nathan. “You’re playing, too, right?”

  Leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest, corded forearms visible beneath the rolled-up sleeves, he surveyed the proceedings with indifference. “No, thanks,” he drawled. “You girls go ahead. I’ll watch.”

  “You aren’t intimidated by an innocent little game, are you?” Sophie couldn’t help prodding him, irritated when he refused to loosen up and try new things.

  He turned those intense silver eyes on her and she felt their searing heat to the tips of her toes. Boy, was he in a mood tonight. A mood that had started, if she recalled correctly, the day she’d come up with the marriage idea. What she wouldn’t give to get inside that complicated brain of his to see for herself what he was thinking!

  “Intimidated? No. Bored out of my min
d is more like it.”

  Tanner stood in the center of the room and made a slow circle. “Everyone split up and put on your blindfolds.”

  The twins moved away to stand beside the refreshment table before putting theirs on. With a shrug, Sophie tied the cloth around her eyes. Folded into layers, the material completely masked her vision.

  “You all know the drill,” Tanner said. “When you bump into someone, try to guess their identity. The first one to guess correctly gets to remove their blindfold. The other person must move on and continue playing. The last person left wearing their blindfold is the loser.

  “Ready? Hold up. Nathan, I’m the only one who gets to be without a blindfold as I’m the overseer. You either play the game or leave the room.”

  Quiet filled the space. Then Sophie felt the air stirring as he passed her, his spicy aftershave teasing her nose. His boots thudded on the hardwood floor as he left. Disappointment rattled through her. Why couldn’t he at least give it a try? He deserved a little fun now and then. A little laughter.

  Tanner gave the signal to start and immediately the quiet gave way to muted laughter. Putting her hands out in front of her, she trudged along so that she wouldn’t trip and crash into someone or something.

  The first person she encountered was definitely a female, one who smelled of vanilla and cinnamon and whose hair was coarse and straight. But who was it? As she moved around the room, she realized she was at a disadvantage because of her braided hair.

  The chuckles and conversation increased in volume as more and more people unmasked. Sophie got the sinking feeling that she was the last one in the game. Then male hands curved around her upper arms and her mind went blank.

  Unlike the other guys who’d guessed her identity, this one’s touch was confident and sure. She got a sense of his towering height, the muscular bulk of his torso blocking the light and the slow-burning heat his body emitted. Slowly, his hands moved upward, lightly skimming her shoulders until they encountered her neck. The slide of his work-roughened fingers against her sensitive skin discharged sparks along her nerve endings from shoulders to fingertips. Her ears tingled. Her stomach flip-flopped.

  Only one man’s nearness had ever affected her this way.

  She whipped off her mask without a word, forcing his hands to drop. “I thought you weren’t playing,” she accused.

  The sight of Nathan in the blindfold, his lean face partially obscured and the muscle jumping in his square jaw screaming his discomfiture, squeezed her heart. He looked miserable. And...vulnerable. He really did hate to be the center of attention.

  Glancing around, she noticed everyone else had their blindfolds off. They were all staring. At them.

  “Uh, Nathan, you can take it off now.”

  He did. And then he noticed their audience. Dull red crept up his neck.

  Tanner pointed. “Nathan’s the loser. What forfeit shall he pay, folks?”

  Nathan stood stone-still, fingers curled into fists, waiting for the verdict like a man condemned.

  Sophie hurt for her friend. She’d been wrong. This wasn’t his idea of fun. She didn’t mind the attention; she was used to it. But Nathan despised it. Please don’t let it be a poem. Or worse, a song.

  “A kiss!”

  “Yeah, make him kiss Sophie!”

  Horror filled her as Nathan jerked as if slapped. He kept his gaze glued to the floor, refusing to look at her.

  “Good call,” Tanner agreed with a laugh. “You heard them, O’Malley. Get to it.”

  Finally he lifted his head and looked at her. His eyes blazing an apology, his mouth pulled into a grimace as he stepped close. He looked ill.

  No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. As many times as she’d dreamed about this moment, she’d give anything if she could rewind time and insist on sitting this one out. Nathan didn’t want to kiss her. He dreaded it.

  She stood immobile, afraid to blink, afraid to breathe as he dipped his head. What would it be like? His sculpted, generous mouth neared hers. The crowd faded to the edge of her vision, the furniture faded to black and it was just her and Nathan, breaths mingling, her heartbeat loud in her ears.

  At the last second his mouth veered away and landed on her cheek. Warm and fleeting, like the brush of a butterfly’s wings. And then gone.

  Someone gasped.

  “I don’t blame him,” she heard an unidentified male mutter. “I wouldn’t wanna kiss a tomboy like her, either.”

  You’re not gonna cry. You can’t. Not here, not now. Not in front of him. He can’t know....

  She blinked rapidly. Struggled to drag air into her lungs. To remain upright. Humiliation rushed through her like a raging river, crashing over her again and again until she thought she might drown in it. All the taunts, the dismissive glances and the gossip couldn’t compare to what Nathan had just done.

  Chapter Twelve

  What had he done?

  The devastation darkening her eyes to storm-tossed blue kicked him in the sternum. He’d embarrassed her. Hurt her. All because he didn’t trust his ability to hold himself aloof.

  Admit it, you’re scared you might actually like kissing Sophie. What then?

  Amused titters pierced his self-recrimination. Anger pounded at his temples, anger at the insensitive clods who dared laugh and make unkind remarks in her presence and at himself for inciting their reactions in the first place.

  So do something about it.

  Soaking in Sophie’s pallor, the trembling of her lower lip and the moisture clinging to her eyelashes, he made the decision. There was only one way to make this right.

  Reaching up, he framed her face with his hands. Hmm. He’d been up close and personal with her countless times—usually in the heat of an argument—but it had never occurred to him that her skin would have the texture of a rose petal.

  Her gaze shot to his. Confusion furrowed her forehead. Her bee-stung lips parted in surprise, snagging his attention.

  As the reality of what he was about to do sank in, his heart bucked in anticipation.

  He tipped his head. Settled his mouth against hers. He felt a shudder course through her, vaguely registering when she gripped his waist for balance. The room spun. He felt dizzy and out of control, yet somehow grounded at the same time, Sophie acting as his magnet, preventing him from flying apart. Her softness, her sweet sigh of surrender awakened unfamiliar emotions. The need to protect her was nothing new, but there was something else here he didn’t recognize, something needy and wishful, something he was too much of a coward to analyze.

  This is Sophie, remember? Too young and too headstrong. All wrong for you.

  With great reluctance, he lifted his head and dropped his hands. For the first time in his life, he was grateful to be the center of attention. Because if not for their audience, he would have taken the embrace to a whole new level and that would have been a mistake. One of massive proportions.

  He watched as Sophie touched her fingers to her mouth, wonder and longing mingling on her face. Then hot color surged in her cheeks. “I—I have to go.” Pivoting on her heel, she rushed from the room. The front door slammed. Conversation erupted....

  Nathan stood rooted to the spot, attempting to process her reaction. The twins appeared in front of him, mirror images of wide-eyed concern.

  Jessica touched his arm. “Nathan, what was that? You and Sophie looked—”

  “Don’t say it,” he warned. He didn’t want to know. He could pretty well imagine, and it was as much of a shock to him as it must be to those who knew him. Knew them.

  “She seemed really upset.” Jane gave him a steady stare. “Aren’t you going to go after her?”

  He jerked a nod. “Don’t be out too late, okay?”

  Ignoring the stares as he passed by, he grabbed his hat from the entr
ance hallway table and let himself out, all the while scouring his brain for something to say that wouldn’t make him sound like an idiot. But what? “I’m sorry I was such a jerk?” or “That kiss knocked me for a loop. Can we try it again?”

  He groaned. “You’re an adult, O’Malley,” he muttered to himself, “how about you act like one instead of a hormonal teen?”

  Main Street was deserted at this time of night, the shops were closed and a single light was shining in the jail’s window. As he neared the Little Pigeon River, the balmy air stirred with the scent of churning water, the sound as familiar to his ears as his cows bawling or the hush of a scythe cutting through tall grass.

  When his boot contacted with the wide wooden bridge spanning the river, a shadowed form poised near the railing turned. Smothered a gasp. A flash of pale hair as she took off divulged her identity.

  “Sophie, wait!”

  She wasn’t running from him, exactly, but going fast enough to spike his heart rate. He caught up to her in the lane. With endless forest on either side, it was impossible to make out her expression. Neither of them had thought to bring a lamp, but then, they knew these parts like the backs of their hands.

  “Soph, stop.” He seized her wrist. “We need to talk.”

  “What do you want?” The distress roughening her voice gave him pause.

  “Look, I’m sorry about what happened back there. It wasn’t my intention to embarrass you.” Not being able to see her, to read her body language, frustrated him. She was a formless outline, as insubstantial as the shadows cloaking them.

  She jerked out of his grasp. “What did you think would happen after that pity kiss?”

  “What?”

  “Don’t tell me you would’ve kissed Pauline Johnson on the cheek! Or April Littleton. Or any of those other girls!”

  He closed his eyes. “I was trying to be a gentleman.”

  “No, Nathan. You’re forgetting I saw your face right before—” The defeat in her voice had him imagining he could see the fight drain out of her. “You were rushing to my rescue yet again. That kiss was designed to silence the barbs. I’m just sorry doing your perceived duty was so abhorrent to you.”