Broken Wings, Soaring Hearts by Beverly A. Rogers

Author:Beverly A. Rogers
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, contemporary
Publisher: F+W Media
Published: 2013-06-23T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TEN

As intrigued as he was with Miss Hailey Holman, Jack had no intention of letting this excursion go to his head. The open doorway cast just enough light for him to detect the image of a steep set of stairs several feet into the barn. “Is there a light switch around here anywhere?”

“What do you need a light switch for?” She propped the wooden door open with a brick resting just inside the door.

“In case you haven’t noticed, it’s dark in here.”

She disappeared beyond some thin streams of light filtering through the barn and shortly after, the distinctive sound of match striking against wood met his ears. A gentle flickering glow filled the barn and she reappeared, brandishing a kerosene lamp. “Is this enough light for you, Mr. City Boy?” Her voice held good-natured teasing.

“It’s enough if we’re able to see where we’re going.” He walked back into the daylight to retrieve the picnic basket she’d deposited in front of the door. “Even city boys like to see where they’re walking. Hate to run into an unwelcome surprise.”

“I understand. We are in a barn, after all.” She transferred the lamp to one hand and gathered a handful of skirt in the other. “Thanks for getting that other basket. Come on, you’re gonna love this place.”

They made their way across and she started up the steps, stopping to stomp the dusty earth from her bare feet. “And to think the pioneer women wore eighty pounds of clothes every day. This get-up is heavy.”

He chuckled as he halted a step below her. “If they could do it, I have absolutely no doubt that you can, as well.” They proceeded up the stairs. “So you say they serve good food here, huh?”

“The best.” She didn’t look back, but continued making her way up the steps. “When we were growing up, my sisters and I, and our cousins, spent a lot of Sunday afternoons out here. We’d play up here for hours while the grownups played dominoes out under the trees and Uncle Frank barbecued. Pretty much every Sunday after church.” She reached the top step. “I can almost taste that sweet mesquite sauce now.”

His mouth started to water. “That does sound good. I don’t suppose you have any of that barbecue in one of these baskets.” As heavy as his basket was, he figured she must have a little bit of everything in it. It wouldn’t totally surprise him to find all of those sisters and cousins she’d mentioned, waiting beyond the top of these steps to join them. He’d already learned that nothing — absolutely nothing could surprise him where she’s concerned. He climbed the last step and anticipated her next move.

She dropped the folds of material from her full skirt and strode ahead to stand before two enormous windows covered by thick wooded shutters. She extinguished the lamp and set it on the window frame. “I don’t think you’ll be too disappointed about missing Uncle Frank’s barbecue this evening.” She clasped her hands in front of her like a small child readying herself to unwrap a Christmas present.

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