You actually made pie?” Sue Ellen stuck her nose in the air. “I better warn the neighbors.”
Thea wanted to simultaneously smack Sue Ellen and sink into the ground for shame. Her plan had been to slink over to the dessert table, remove her baking fiasco and then chuck the contents into the Murdock pig trough before anyone was the wiser.
But that afternoon, Sue Ellen beat Thea to the dessert table. As usual, the Murdock nephew hovered close by, under the shade of the pecan tree.
“Cage Cooper will take one bite and probably break the engagement.” Sue Ellen’s gaze flickered over Thea’s shoulder. “Oh.”
Sue Ellen’s mouth flattened. “Hey, Cage.”
Cage placed his hand at the small of Thea’s back. “Is that the pie you were telling me about yesterday, Sugar Plum?”
Thea blinked at him.
Sue Ellen elbowed the Murdock man out of the way. “Try my caramel pie, Cage.”
Murdock’s nephew cleared his throat. “I’d like to try your caramel pie, Miss Oberheimer.”
Sue Ellen held the pie plate out to Cage.
He ignored Sue Ellen and her plate. “Plum is my favorite.” He lifted Thea’s pie off the table.
Thea, for the life of her, couldn’t speak.
“I hardly got a wink of sleep last night just thinking about your pie, Thea.” He held the pie to his nose and inhaled. “Mmm-mm.”
Sue Ellen frowned. “You aren’t actually going to eat that thing?”
He gave Sue Ellen a half-lidded smile. “What else would I do with it, Miss Oberheimer?”
Actually … Thea had some ideas. Including pushing it into Sue Ellen’s gloating face. But Thea reminded herself she was a Christian woman.
“You’re going to take the whole thing?” Sue Ellen’s eyes widened. “Glutton for punishment, aren’t you?”
Cage stiffened. “I’m not in a sharing mood today. I’m selfish when it comes to Thea.”
The Murdock nephew grabbed for Sue Ellen’s pie.
“Wait!” Sue Ellen lunged a second too late.
Murdock hugged the plate to his chest. “Sounds like a great idea to me.”
Sue Ellen’s perplexed consternation was a sight to behold.
Armed with a fork, Cage dug into the crust, and thrust a bite into his mouth. He chewed. Swallowed and brandished the fork in Sue Ellen’s direction. “Great stuff.”
Sue Ellen huffed.
The Murdock nephew took a careful bite of the caramel pie. His rather forgettable countenance transformed as he rolled the flavors in his mouth. “Why, Miss Oberheimer, tales of your baking have not been exaggerated.”
He stabbed the fork in the air. “This is possibly the best pie I’ve ever had occasion to enjoy. Better than my dear mother’s.”
Sue Ellen’s brow puckered as the man continued to wax eloquent about the flakiness of her piecrust.
Cage nudged Thea. “Would you grab me a lemonade, Sugar Plum?”
Struck dumb, she poured him a glass and followed Cage to the edge of the Murdock yard. Plopping down, he rested his back against a fence post and scooped more pie onto his fork.
Her heart thudded. “Stop!”
Cage paused, fork halfway to his mouth. “What?”
“You’ve proven your point and saved my honor.” She fluttered her hand. “But this is taking things too far.”
“It’s not that bad.”
She hung her head. “Yes. It is.”
He inserted the slice into his mouth.
“Greater love hath no man than this …,” she whispered. “I’ll have it engraved on your headstone, I promise.”
He swallowed with effort. “I’ve got to clean the plate or Sue Ellen will want to know why.” He loaded his fork with less enthusiasm this time, though.
“You and your big mouth.” Her eyes darted. “Maybe we can dump it under the bush. Or in the creek. Or—”
“And endanger the wildlife?”
She laughed and eased down beside him, careful to set the glass on a level patch of ground.
“Besides”—he eyed the fork with trepidation—“I believe I owe you for a certain dare involving plums a long time ago.”
She smoothed her skirt and arranged it around her ankles. He’d saved her from humiliation today. She could at least keep him company while he suffered through the ordeal. “True.”
He took another bite. Like taking cod-liver oil, he closed his eyes shut and forcibly swallowed.
Cage took a breath. “With the great cook your dad hired, I’ve never understood how a smart girl like you could so thoroughly botch cooking.”
She pursed her lips. “It’s because of that great cook, I don’t know how. She never let me into her precious kitchen, especially after Mother died.”
“Cooking is nothing but reading and math, Thea.”
She rested her chin on her up-drawn knees. She tucked her shoes underneath her skirt. “It’s boring following the rules.”
Cage snorted. “Spoken like a true suffragette.”
He forked a smaller amount this time. And gulped past the apparent boulder lodged in his throat.
She handed him the lemonade. “You may be the bravest man I’ve ever known, Cage Cooper.”
He clapped a quick hand over his mouth. “Don’t make me laugh, Thea. I’m having enough trouble trying not to choke as it is.”
“Drink something.”
He took a long swallow. Against her will, she found herself admiring the corded muscles of his throat. As he lowered the glass, he caught her staring.
She blushed. Fiddled with the grass ring on her finger. “What’s the real reason you don’t want to get hitched, Cage? Sue Ellen’s more than willing.”
He scowled. “I don’t love Sue Ellen, and she’s not in love with me. She thinks I’m her last chance.” His eyes flashed. “I don’t want to be anyone’s last chance. She ought to take a closer look at her admirer.”
“Murdock?”
Cage laid aside the fork. “Murdock’s nephew. You really don’t know who he is? I figured you both being from such high society in Cheyenne—”
Thea shoulder-butted him. “Will you stop trying to make me out to be a snob? Who is he?”
“I’ll tell you who he is—he’s Frederic Tierney.”
At her blank look, Cage cocked his head. “Heir to the Gallagher restaurant fortune.”
“The finest eatery in Cheyenne?”
Cage’s brows drew together. “In San Fran and Chicago, too. Supposedly Frederic Tierney is a financial genius.”
“And he likes Sue Ellen’s pie?”
“From his moonstruck look, he likes more than her pie. If her pie is better than his mother’s, high praise indeed.”
Thea frowned. “Why hasn’t someone told Sue Ellen who he is?”
Cage dropped his gaze. “I suspect he prefers to be liked for his own merits rather than his bank account.”
“I think he’s on to something, though. The way to Sue Ellen’s heart may be through her crust.” Thea fingered the hem of her skirt. “You still haven’t explained why you remain unmarried.”
He gave her that lopsided smile of his. “Why would anyone want to marry me and I quote, ‘the most aggravating man on earth.’ End quote.”
She folded her hands in her lap. “I’m not blind. You’re not without a certain charm, Cage. I got off the train figuring you’d have a wife and at least three kids in tow.”
He grunted.
She tilted her head. “Isn’t that what every farmer wants? A wife and a passel of children for exactly this kind of thing?” She motioned toward the fields. “For planting and harvesting.”
A muscle ticked in his cheek. “What would any woman in her right mind want with me, son of the town drunk?”
She knotted her fingers. “I think you’re wrong about how people in this town see you, Cage. The other men regard you with respect and friendship. The matrons of Possum Trot wouldn’t be throwing their daughters at you otherwise.”
He hunkered against the post. “What I don’t get is why the Hollands ever allowed their children to spend time with the likes of me, the no-good Cooper boy.”
She touched his sleeve. “You’re not the no-good Cooper boy.”
His eyes fell to her hand.
She squeezed his arm. “I don’t know which is worst. Poor George trying to live up to our father’s reputation. Or you trying to live down your father’s. I don’t think either of you need to do anything but be yourself.”
He wouldn’t look at her.
“Are you hearing me, Cage?”
She took hold of his chin with her thumb and forefinger, forcing him to meet her gaze. His eyes were troubled. She hated seeing him doubt himself.
“Cage Cooper is a good man, a good farmer, and a good neighbor. And don’t you forget it.”
He tried to pull away. She was having none of it. He shrugged off her words.
“You have always been my good friend.” She took the pie tin from him and set it on the ground. “And as it turns out, a very good fiancé.”
His lips twisted. “Not good enough for a Holland.”
“Not true. My mother liked you.” Thea rested against the post, her shoulder pressing his. “She said only someone as intelligent as you could create such chaos.”
“There’s a compliment in there, I think …” His mouth quirked. “And besides, most of our escapades were your doing, Thea.”
She smiled. “But you took the blame so I wouldn’t get into trouble.”
Thea brushed her cheek against his sleeve. “I think underneath the bravado you’re scared. Scared to trust yourself, scared to trust others, and most of all, scared to trust God.”
He jabbed the fork into the grass. “I learned early not to trust people. Every time things were good, the other shoe always dropped.”
Cage scanned the sky. “Maybe it’s an occupational hazard for a farmer to fear the worst. This is the best crop I’ve harvested in five years. The house and barn are in great shape. Friends—the best of friends like you and George—are home again.”
He raked the dirt with the fork. “It’s too good to last. Story of my life.”
She captured the fork in his hand. “You need to take another look at yourself, Cage Cooper. And see what God sees in you. A person of much value.”
“Is that how you see me, Thea?”
Before she could frame a reply, a hint of merriment—and the customary mischief—returned to his eyes. “I thought I was the most conceited, annoying person you knew?”
Trust Cage to deflect when the conversation became too personal.
She blew out a breath. “How do you do it, Cage?”
“Do what?”
She cut her eyes at him. “Be both arrogant and insecure at the same time.”
He grinned. “I’m talented, I guess.”
“You’re something all right.”
His eyes darkened. “Something bad? Or something good?”
Only a few inches separated them from each other. Thea became aware of the pounding of her heart. What was happening?
She willed her heartbeat to steady. “You’re en-Cage-ing, that’s for sure.”
If anything, he leaned closer. His breath warmed her cheek. There was an intensity in his eyes …
“Were you as glad to see me as I was glad to see you when you stepped off the train last week, Thea?”
“I—I—”
She moistened her lip with her tongue. It was getting harder to breathe. Harder to think of anything besides her brother’s best friend. Would Cage kiss her?
Where had that come from? Did she want him to kiss her? Yes—her heart stutter-stepped—she wanted him to kiss her.
But he edged away. “I’m dirty.” His face shadowed. “Too dirty for the likes of Theadosia Holland.”
He scrambled to his feet. “My part is done for the day. I’ll tie my horse to your buggy and make sure you get home.”
Disappointment surged. She flushed. And wanted to kick something. Someone, namely Cage Cooper.
For treating her like a fragile porcelain vase. But mainly for not—she sucked in a breath. For not kissing her?
Somehow the boundary between fiction and reality had blurred. They were only supposed to pretend. Suddenly, she didn’t feel like pretending.
He put his hand to his stomach. “I’ll get the buggy.”
Headed toward the Holland farm on the dusty road, Cage pulled the buggy reins short. His stomach roiled. Oh, no. He wasn’t going to make it.
Thea glanced at him. “Why are we stopping?”
He practiced taking deep, even breaths. “I don’t feel so good.”
Cage willed his gut to settle. Please, God, not in front of Thea.
His stomach heaved. Panic rocketed through him. Breaking into a cold sweat, he thrust the reins at Thea. Clutching his abdomen, he leaned over and vomited into the bush. His humiliation was complete.
Laying aside the reins, she rubbed his back. “Oh, Cage, honey.”
Could he do nothing involving Thea without making a total idiot of himself?
When he finally straightened, his belly was blessedly serene again. She handed him the reins and fished a handkerchief out of her skirt pocket.
Cage shrank back. “I can’t use your fancy—”
She blotted his mouth. “Stop being such a big baby, Micajah Cooper.”
He could feel the flush creeping up his neck. “We seem to bring out the worst in each other, don’t we, Thea?”
Nobody had taken care of him in a long time. He steeled himself not to get used to it. Good things—at least for him—never lasted long.
She placed the soiled handkerchief on the floorboard. “I wouldn’t say that.” She brushed a lock of hair off his forehead.
He fought the urge to press into the coolness of her fingers.
“Does your stomach still hurt, darlin’?”
His eyes cut to hers. “A little bit.”
She reddened at the realization of what she’d said. “I brought a blue bottle of this milky magnesium stuff with me from Cheyenne. It’ll fix you right up.”
He made a face.
She twined her arm through the crook in his elbow. “Outside of Jesus, you eating my pie may be the single most wonderful, heroic thing anyone’s ever done for me.”
With a tiny smile, he slapped the reins. The horses once again set off at a trot. Thea’s hero. Someone he’d always aspired to be.
She nestled against his side. “Think we’ll win the three-legged footrace tomorrow?”
He could get used to Thea hanging on to his arm. “Sure I do. We make a great team.”
She nodded. “A formidable combination. My brains coupled with—”
“My good looks.”
She laughed as he meant her to. He enjoyed hearing her laugh.
“You must be feeling better if you’ve reverted to your overlarge ego.” She ran her hand down his arm. “After the dance on Saturday, you can consider yourself forever free of me and from matrimony.”
The thought did not give Cage the comfort he’d envisioned earlier in the week.
She sighed. “Then like you said, everybody will be happy.”
Would he be happy? Cage wasn’t so sure. Not anymore.