Free Weathered Too Young by Marcia Lynn McClure

admitted, the anxious, albeit ridiculous heat of jealousy rising in her again.
    “Yep. Our mama was a singer…had the voice of an angel,” Tom explained. “I suppose that’s why Slater has always been partial to fillies who can sing a pretty song.”
    “Oh . W ell…well then , I’m sure the two of you are bound to enjoy your evening,” Lark said.
     
    Tom’s eyes narrowed with sudden suspicion. Ah ha! At last! He and Slater had both been downright frustrated at their inability to read the thoughts and feelings of their little housekeeper , but the fog was lifting , and Tom was watchful. Lark was uncomfortable . H e could see it in her eyes—the way the sparkle in them dimmed suddenly. He also read it in the way she cast her gaze from him momentarily and by the sudden deepening of the pink in her pretty cheeks.
    “If ya don’t want to be here alone, then one of us would be more than willin’ to stay home with ya, honey,” he offered—for at first he thought she was simply uncomfortable about being left behind.
    “Oh no! No, no, no,” she assured him, smiling and tucking a loose strand of hair behind one ear. “You all go on…have fun. I could use an evening by myself. I’ve so been wanting some quiet moments to read…if that’s all right with you, I mean. Would it be all right if I read one of the books from the shelves in the parlor?”
    “Of course, darlin’,” Tom chuckled. “You can read anything you want in there.”
    “Well, then…I’ll delight in an evening by myself,” she said, smiling.
    Tom studied her a moment, however. She was rattled—indeed she was.
    “You and Slater go on and have a lovely time,” she added. “Maybe the two of you will even get to meet that pretty actress. Oh, you two certainly deserve an evening of entertainment and respite. And what could be more entertaining than a pretty actress with the voice of bird? I’m sure Slater’s bound to be smitten with her.”
    Tom grinned as full understanding washed over him . S he was jealous! Lark was jealous of the actress in town—jealous of the possibility that the actress might win Slater’s admiration.
    “Smitten?” he asked, having decided to further press Lark into revealing her feelings. “Slater don’t get smitten with nobody.”
    “Oh, everybody is smitten at one time or another,” Lark said, waving a hand in a gesture of indifference. “Even Slater.”
    “Nope,” Tom said as the imp in his playful nature perked. “Slater gets to wantin’ after a woman somethin’ powerful now and then…but he never gets smitten.” It was all he could do to keep from bursting into laughter, for instantly Lark’s eyes widened.
    “Well…well , I…” Lark stammered. “I…I wouldn’t know about such things as wanting after a wom a n, as you phrase it.”
    Immediately, Tom was guilt-ridden. He shouldn’t tease her about such things—not when it was apparent Slater had somehow managed to unknowingly weasel his way into her heart. Tom wasn’t at all surprised, however. He’d always suspected Lark’s discomfort in his brother’s presence had more to do with the strange ability Slater had to attract women than it did with his often brooding and cantankerous demeanor. Tom knew he likewise owned a certain something that drew women to him. Yet it seemed where Lark Lawrence was concerned, Slater had prevailed.
    “Oh, I’m just teasin’ ya, honey,” he said, taking one of her hands in his and kissing the back repentantly. “I’m sure ol’ Slater gets as smitten as every other feller.” The imp in his nature was not yet squelched, however, and he added, “Could be you’re right and the pretty little songbird at Pratt’s will be the one to do it.”
    “It could be,” she mumbled, and he didn’t miss the worry on her brow.
    “But more than likely…it’ll be me that finds himself smitten,” he added in an effort to comfort her where Slater was concerned. “Actresses are more my type of wom e n then