Anything for You Read Free Page B

Gypsy had called Oscar.
    Wiping his sleeve against his eyes, Oscar gave him a weak smile and bent to pick up another onion from the pile next to his stool. With quick, efficient strokes, the boy stripped off the skin, which fell into a basket by his feet. A powerful reek surrounded him.
    â€œHow many of those do you have to do?” Adam asked, looking toward where Gypsy was talking with another of her flunkeys. Flunkey! What a ridiculous term! Not a single man wore livery as a proper flunkey should, unless their aprons were their uniform.
    Oscar interrupted his thoughts. “Just a dozen more. Gypsy doesn’t need more than ten pounds of onions tonight.”
    â€œWhat did you do to rate this punishment?”
    â€œNothing.” His knife did not falter as he sliced through the red-gold skin to leave the white glistening like moonlight on an icy river. “I’m the quickest, so I do this. Bert chops meat from the beef out in the locker. Per does—”
    Adam interrupted, “You like doing this?”
    â€œNot really. It’s just …” He shrugged his thin shoulders. “Gypsy depends on me.” A smile pulled at his narrow cheeks. “I guess that’s why I don’t mind.”
    If Gypsy inspired this loyalty, Adam decided, she must be pretty remarkable.
    â€œGet me a knife,” he said to Oscar, “and I’ll help you.”
    Oscar hesitated, then mumbled, “No, thanks. Gypsy’ll tell you what she wants you to do.”
    â€œSo she really is in charge here?”
    â€œYes. Do you have a problem with that?”
    Astounded by Oscar’s abrupt fury, Adam answered before the lad’s raised voice caught Gypsy’s attention. “No problem. None at all.”
    Adam glanced across the crowded kitchen. For a moment, he thought Gypsy had left. Then he saw her leaning over an open oven door.
    He rested his chin on the heel of his palm and smiled. Without her shapeless black coat, her slender curves were a pleasure to behold. Her pert nose advised him to watch out for the cantankerous nature that contrasted with the honeyed smoothness of her Southern drawl. Her face was flushed with heat as she stood and pushed back her hair, drawing his eyes along her throat. Hank said something to her, and she laughed, her eyes sparkling like dew-washed grass.
    What was a captivating woman like Gypsy Elliott doing in the north woods? He could not think of a single reason why she might be here—unless she was trying to hide from someone. Maybe she had left a lover—or a husband—behind. He knew he would find out eventually. Secrets had a way of not staying secret when he put his mind to them.
    She turned, and her gaze locked with his. Her smile evaporated as she hastily looked away. She was hiding something! He chuckled to himself. This might be more interesting than he had guessed.
    Gypsy tried to ignore Adam Lassiter’s gaze on her. Other jacks had been stupid enough to think she needed someone to fill her leisure hours. First, she had no leisure time. Even if she did, she was not likely to get involved with a jack.
    A tingle coursed through her. Adam was still watching her. Bending to check the biscuits in the second oven, she was glad when Bert came to stand between her and Adam. She was silly, she knew. What she did not know was how to halt the quivers each time his eyes captured hers.
    â€œIt’s a bad idea to bring ’im ’ere,” Bert muttered as he pulled biscuits out of the oven. “Is Farley crazy? You don’t ’ave time to take care of a bumped-up jack.”
    She smiled wryly as she stirred the chicken soup, raising its rich scent. “I tried to convince Farley to let Rose take care of Adam.”
    Instead of laughing as she had expected, Bert glared across the room.
    Hank grumbled, “She’d probably like having him about. He looks like her type. Cheap and flashy.”
    â€œAll the more reason for