A Weaver Proposal

Sydney sent him a sideways look as his mother moved away to take her place adjacent to her husband’s. But instead of looking cowed by his mother, he was just eyeing Sydney with that vaguely challenging, amused look. She was beginning to wonder if he had it all the time, or if he’d reserved it just for her.

But then, when Maggie clasped her hand and she noticed that everyone around the table was doing the same, she realized what “grace” meant to these people.

She reluctantly set her palm into the upturned one that Derek had rested on the table between their two plates and it took all of her willpower not to jerk it back when his long fingers closed over hers, capturing it but good.

He, she noted, didn’t close his eyes or bow his head even a fraction, as his father gave a brief blessing for the meal.

And when the amen was said and everyone turned their attention to the meal, and pizza boxes were thrown open and passed hither and yon, Sydney spread her napkin on her lap and eyed him. “Not showing a lot of reverence there, were you?” She kept her voice low, even though she doubted her words would be carried beyond his ears, since everyone’s mouths—if they weren’t already occupied with eating—were running a mile a minute. She couldn’t even begin to unravel the half-dozen conversations that seemed to be running concurrently.

“Neither were you,” he countered. A few lines radiated from the corners of the green eyes that he’d clearly inherited from his mother. “Or you wouldn’t have noticed what I was doing.”

The fact that he was right didn’t comfort her any. She managed not to snatch the pizza box he was holding aloft for her as she passed it smoothly to Maggie on her other side.

“Pizza too common-folk for you?” He jerked his chin at her empty plate.

“Not at all,” she returned truthfully. She loved the stuff. But the smell of the pepperoni was luring the threatening tide inside her as surely as the moon lured the ocean. Instead, she reached for the enormous salad bowl that was sitting almost directly in front of her, and put some on her plate.

Even that, though, wasn’t exactly nirvana for her senses, because there was a plentiful amount of chopped black olives among the lettuce and tomatoes.

She’d always liked black olives.

But right now, they looked as appetizing as an infestation of little black bugs.

Her fork dropped on the plate with a clatter as she hurriedly grabbed her filled water glass and, with an appalling lack of dignity, chugged half of its contents before she set it down.

Derek was watching her, the corners of his lips turned down. “What do you do? Maintain a rabbit’s diet just so you can fit into look-at-me dresses like that?” His gaze dropped from her face to the dress in question and she was certain it was only irritation that made her skin beneath the garment feel hot.

“Stop teasing,” Jaimie said from down the table. She was pinching off pieces of her pizza crust and setting them in front of the fat-cheeked baby occupying a high chair next to her. “As I was starting to say before, Sydney’s hardly seen a fraction of the Double-C. Derek, you ought to show her around after dinner.”

“Tramping through snow and cow piles with those boots of hers?” Derek shook his head as he reached out a long arm and grabbed a slice of plain cheese pizza from another box. “Probably not a good idea.” He plopped the slice on Sydney’s plate and pointedly moved the box as if he feared she’d be rude enough to put the slice back.

“Don’t be silly.” Jaimie’s face was wreathed in a smile. If she recognized her son’s obvious reluctance, she was ignoring it. “You can borrow something more suitable,” she told Sydney. “It’s worth the trouble,” she promised. “Even covered in snow, the Double-C is impressive.”

Sydney knew that Jake had been impressed, which was no mean feat. “I’m sure it is,” she said. “But I don’t want to put anyone out.”

“Face it, Mom,” Derek said with just enough dry humor not to sound as odious as Sydney knew he really was. “She was raised at Forrest’s Crossing. She might not be that interested in our little cow operation here considering she grew up around prize-winning Thoroughbreds.”

Her jaw was tightening again. She was well aware that there was nothing “little” about the Double-C. It was the largest cattle operation in the state. She also could feel the look that Matthew was sending their way and knew, without question, that he at least was picking up on something between them.

Jake would never forgive her if she managed to alienate a single one of his beloved J.D.’s family.

She forced a smile toward Derek. “But I am interested,” she assured him brightly. “I just don’t want to be an imposition.”

She hoped to heaven she was the only one who heard the faint snort he gave.

“Don’t be silly,” Jaimie said again. “You’re family now, darling. Don’t ever forget that.”

“Cousins, remember?” Derek was smiling, too, though it looked a little thin around the edges as far as Sydney could tell.

“Right.” She didn’t even realize she’d picked up the slice of pizza until it was in her fingers and the aroma—thankfully tantalizing this time—reached her. She bit off the narrow point of the slice and nearly closed her eyes with glee as the chewy, cheesy mess practically melted on her tongue.

She heard Derek make a strangled sound and looked his way. “Are you all right?”

“Peachy.” He dumped a load of salad on his own plate, jabbed his fork viciously into a tomato slice and shoved it into his mouth.

She glanced down the table toward Tabby. The girl was laughing and looking particularly animated as she talked with the good-looking young guy sitting next to her. “You have competition,” she murmured to Derek. “Is that what’s making you crankier than usual?”

He gave her a strange look. “What the hell are you going on about?”

She nodded toward Tabby. “Not that it’s any business of mine, but he seems more suited to her. Age-wise, that is.”

“You think Tabby and I are—”

“Aren’t you?”

The corner of his lips jerked a little, then settled into a curl. “I’ve known her since she was in diapers.”

Sydney gave him a derisive look. “Is that supposed to excuse robbing the cradle?”

He gave a bark of laughter. “Tab is Evan’s little sister. Evan’s married to my cousin, Leandra. They’re not here today.” He jabbed his fork in the direction of his mother and the high chair–corralled baby beside her. “But that’s their youngest kid, Katie. And Justin—” his fork air-jabbed the young man next to Tabby “—and Tabby have been friends since their sandbox days.”

Then he lowered his fork and ran his gaze over her in a way that had her nerve endings heating up all over again. “Trust me, cupcake.” His voice dropped a notch. “I like my women all grown-up.”

The pizza she’d swallowed seemed suddenly stuck like a lump in her throat. It took every inch of effort she possessed to smile casually. “I guess I misunderstood.”

His eyebrow peaked, making him look devilish. “You think?”

She grabbed her water glass and downed the remainder of its contents. “I’m not going to apologize again,” she said under her breath. “You deliberately misled me yesterday. And you’ve been needling me since.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, you’re carrying around a pincushion of needles of your own, though God knows where you have the room in that dress you’re wearing.” He looked over at his mother when she called his name and asked him to bring in the rest of the pizza.

Startled, Sydney looked over the long tabletop. “There’s more?”

Maggie laughed outright. “There’s always more, Sydney. One thing this family has learned how to do right together is eat.” Then she asked, “Tara, do you still need me to help out at the shop tomorrow?”

Sydney tried not to pay too much notice as Derek left the table, but it was hard considering his arm brushed against hers as he did so. She was positive he’d done it deliberately.

“If it’s not too much trouble,” Tara was saying. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to hire more help whether I want to or not.”

“You have that much business?” The second the question left her lips, Sydney realized how it might sound.

But Tara was just smiling ruefully. “Surprising, I know. But Weaver draws more people than you would think just from driving down our little old Main Street. I’m open seven days a week now, and—”

“And it’s too damn many hours,” her husband, Axel, said flatly. He was holding a squirming little boy who was clearly anxious to get down from his daddy’s lap.

“So speaks the King.” Tara held out her hands. “Give me Aidan.” Her husband immediately handed over the tot.

“Well, darling,” Jaimie inserted, “you are pregnant again. And getting more so by the day.”

Derek had returned and dumped three more enormous pizza boxes on top of the empties. Sydney watched with some amazement as eager hands reached out and threw them open, passing the food all over again.

“Thought you already ran an advertisement for some help,” Jaimie said.

Tara shrugged. “I did a few months ago. No takers, though.”

“Hire Sydney,” Derek said, sitting down once more beside her. “She was just telling Mom she needed something to fill her time.”

Sydney’s jaw loosened a little.

He gave a little frown that she didn’t buy for a second. “But then working in a local shop might be too tame for you, with your love of racehorses and ahhht.”

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