Wolf Creek Father (Wolf Creek, Arkansas Book 3) by Penny Richards Page A

said. Allison watched wide-eyed as he ran out onto the porch and spit the candy onto the grass. He came back inside wearing a look of reproach and shoved the bag at her. “It’s
maple.
I hate maple.”
    “I’m sorry,” Allison said, appalled by his actions. She felt as if she’d taken one step forward and two back. “It was always a favorite of mine, and most children like pancakes with maple syrup, so I just thought— Well, never mind what I thought. What do you like? I’ll bring it next time, even though it was rude of you to reject my gift the way you did.”
    “Sorry,” he quipped. “Next time? Are you gonna make a habit of coming over?”
    It was clear that he had no notion what to think about the recent changes in the status quo. That made two of them, she thought, curbing a sigh. “I’ll come sometimes. You and Cilla are welcome at my house, too.”
    The plan must have been acceptable because he nodded his shaggy brown head. “Butterscotch.”
    “Butterscotch next time, then,” she said, summoning a slight smile. She turned her attention to Cilla, who had untied the twine around the package and spread the paper wide. “I saw the ribbon and remembered that you have a blue gingham dress. I thought the color would be pretty with your eyes and your dark hair.”
    Surprised, Cilla looked from the contents of the package to Allison, disbelief in her eyes. “It’s thread and embroidery stuff.”
    “Your father mentioned that you might like to learn, and my sister does fine needlework. She’s agreed to teach you the stitches.”
    “You don’t embroider?”
    “Actually, I do, just not very well. I always make a mess of something and have to pick it out. I can sew, though, if you’d like to learn. I have a new treadle sewing machine.”
    Afraid to give away too much of the excitement Allison saw in her eyes, Cilla said, “That might be nice. When can I start the embroidery?”
    “Ellie said for you to come over tomorrow after she closes the café.”
    “Will Bethany be there?”
    “Of course. She lives there.” For convenience sake, Ellie and Bethany lived in rooms above the eating establishment.
    “Cilla says Bethany’s a dummy,” Brady offered.
    A sharp pang of sorrow pricked Allison’s heart.
    Cilla’s face flamed red. “I did not!”
    “You said she was dumb. Same thing.”
    “Don’t quarrel,” Allison said in her best teacher voice. “Bethany is not dumb.”
    “What’s wrong with her, then?” Brady asked.
    “She was born with a learning disability.”
    “Why?”
    “No one knows why, Brady. She can learn, but what she can learn is limited, and some things will always be beyond her comprehension. But she cooks, and sews and plays the pianoforte rather well. She’s also a fairly accomplished artist.”
    “She plays the piano?” Cilla asked.
    Allison nodded. “She takes lessons from Hattie—Mrs. Carson. I think that if you got to know Bethany, you’d like her. She’s very sweet and she loves doing all the usual things young girls like.”
    Cilla looked thoughtful.
    “Your father said you might be interested in learning to play the piano,” Allison said.
    “I might,” she said with studied nonchalance.
    “Well, I spoke to Mrs. Carson and she has room for another student, but you must understand that if you agree to study under her, you must work hard. She doesn’t care much for slackers who just take up her time.”
    The sound of boots on the porch snagged everyone’s attention. The screen door swung open, and Colt filled the aperture. The sunlight at his back glinted gold on his streaky hair, creating a portrait of masculine planes and shadows of his face. Standing there with his feet spread apart as if he were bracing for a storm, his broad shoulders filling the doorway and an unreadable expression in his eyes, he looked more than a little dangerous and very exciting.
    His posture relaxed when he saw there were no fireworks going off in the room.
    “Hello, Miss