basket, and we surely will enjoy those muffins.”
“It’s my special recipe.”
After a pause, Tye asked in a suspicious tone. “Did Claire Donovan provide any of the ingredients?”
“I don’t believe I’ve met Miss Donovan.”
“That’s good. Well, then, I’ll look forward to sampling your baking.”
Claire broke the point on her pencil.
Eliza Ledbetter continued, “Lord McBride—”
“Tye.”
“Tye. And you must call me Eliza.” She twittered then, and Claire rolled her eyes. “My mother has decided to hold a small soiree on Friday night, and we’d be honored if you would attend.”
Again, there was a moment’s pause. “Well, I thank you for the invitation, Eliza, but as you probably know, I’m here caring for my nieces. I don’t feel good leaving them.”
“You’d be welcome to bring the Mena—I mean, your nieces. Perhaps they could assist in the evening’s entertainment. I understand young Katrina has a beautiful voice.”
“Yeah, Kat can sing, but I’m afraid she’s useless when it comes to sitting still. I took the girls with me to supper last night, and I’m afraid it turned out to be a rather unpleasant experience for all. Please, give your mother my thanks and pass along my regrets. Maybe next time.”
“Couldn’t you leave them with your brother’s housekeeper or Mrs. McBride’s mother?”
Tye’s voice sharpened. “Mrs. Wilson is in Dallas and Jenny’s mother, Monique, is in Europe, so neither is available to baby-sit. Besides, I told my brother I’d care for them. That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
“Oh.”
Claire couldn’t tell if Eliza Ledbetter was embarrassed or disappointed. The way she tied up the conversation and hurried off made Claire suspect it was a little of both.
Eliza might have been the first woman Tye disappointed that day, but it soon became obvious she wasn’t to be the last. By the time the girls left for school Claire watched women deliver seven more baskets of muffins, four cakes, three loaves of bread, a roasted turkey, and five proposals of marriage. When she spied the woman toting the roasted bird pass her window, Claire had to peek around the shop’s door to observe Tye’s reaction. His panicked expression when he accepted the turkey had her biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing aloud.
Shortly thereafter she heard the children call their good-byes as they hurried off to school. Tye followed quickly on their heels, ducking out the back door wearing a beat-up straw hat and a hunted expression. “I’d bet a dozen bottles of Magic he’s going somewhere to hide.”
Watching him go, Claire felt torn between sympathy and amusement. Normally she wasn’t the type to hold a grudge, but she couldn’t forget the snotty comment McBride made to Eliza Ledbetter in reference to Claire’s ingredients. What did he have against her cookies, anyway?
She pondered the question for some time without arriving at any answer. Then, shortly before noon, as she prepared to mix up a Snow Cake, a knock sounded at her back door. Tye McBride stood on the stoop, his hands cupped against the glass as he peered inside. The moment she opened the door, he ducked into the kitchen.
“I am so glad you are here. It’s getting dangerous out there.”
Claire took a good look at him and decided the danger factor in her kitchen just hiked up a notch itself. Dressed in a blue chambray shirt, worn denim britches, and a help-me look, Tye McBride appealed to the caretaker in her. It was all she could do not to set him down at the table and ply him with baked goods.
When he flashed her a grin and sank into a chair with a grateful sigh, it was all she could do not to sit in his lap and ply him with kisses.
Why, Claire Donovan. Where did that come from?
Flustered, she walked to the window and threw it open. “It’s getting hot in here,” she muttered inanely.
“You think this is hot you should see it upstairs. It’s wall-to-wall women up
“It’s my special recipe.”
After a pause, Tye asked in a suspicious tone. “Did Claire Donovan provide any of the ingredients?”
“I don’t believe I’ve met Miss Donovan.”
“That’s good. Well, then, I’ll look forward to sampling your baking.”
Claire broke the point on her pencil.
Eliza Ledbetter continued, “Lord McBride—”
“Tye.”
“Tye. And you must call me Eliza.” She twittered then, and Claire rolled her eyes. “My mother has decided to hold a small soiree on Friday night, and we’d be honored if you would attend.”
Again, there was a moment’s pause. “Well, I thank you for the invitation, Eliza, but as you probably know, I’m here caring for my nieces. I don’t feel good leaving them.”
“You’d be welcome to bring the Mena—I mean, your nieces. Perhaps they could assist in the evening’s entertainment. I understand young Katrina has a beautiful voice.”
“Yeah, Kat can sing, but I’m afraid she’s useless when it comes to sitting still. I took the girls with me to supper last night, and I’m afraid it turned out to be a rather unpleasant experience for all. Please, give your mother my thanks and pass along my regrets. Maybe next time.”
“Couldn’t you leave them with your brother’s housekeeper or Mrs. McBride’s mother?”
Tye’s voice sharpened. “Mrs. Wilson is in Dallas and Jenny’s mother, Monique, is in Europe, so neither is available to baby-sit. Besides, I told my brother I’d care for them. That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
“Oh.”
Claire couldn’t tell if Eliza Ledbetter was embarrassed or disappointed. The way she tied up the conversation and hurried off made Claire suspect it was a little of both.
Eliza might have been the first woman Tye disappointed that day, but it soon became obvious she wasn’t to be the last. By the time the girls left for school Claire watched women deliver seven more baskets of muffins, four cakes, three loaves of bread, a roasted turkey, and five proposals of marriage. When she spied the woman toting the roasted bird pass her window, Claire had to peek around the shop’s door to observe Tye’s reaction. His panicked expression when he accepted the turkey had her biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing aloud.
Shortly thereafter she heard the children call their good-byes as they hurried off to school. Tye followed quickly on their heels, ducking out the back door wearing a beat-up straw hat and a hunted expression. “I’d bet a dozen bottles of Magic he’s going somewhere to hide.”
Watching him go, Claire felt torn between sympathy and amusement. Normally she wasn’t the type to hold a grudge, but she couldn’t forget the snotty comment McBride made to Eliza Ledbetter in reference to Claire’s ingredients. What did he have against her cookies, anyway?
She pondered the question for some time without arriving at any answer. Then, shortly before noon, as she prepared to mix up a Snow Cake, a knock sounded at her back door. Tye McBride stood on the stoop, his hands cupped against the glass as he peered inside. The moment she opened the door, he ducked into the kitchen.
“I am so glad you are here. It’s getting dangerous out there.”
Claire took a good look at him and decided the danger factor in her kitchen just hiked up a notch itself. Dressed in a blue chambray shirt, worn denim britches, and a help-me look, Tye McBride appealed to the caretaker in her. It was all she could do not to set him down at the table and ply him with baked goods.
When he flashed her a grin and sank into a chair with a grateful sigh, it was all she could do not to sit in his lap and ply him with kisses.
Why, Claire Donovan. Where did that come from?
Flustered, she walked to the window and threw it open. “It’s getting hot in here,” she muttered inanely.
“You think this is hot you should see it upstairs. It’s wall-to-wall women up
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