by Jillian Hart
“Millie, that would do fine.” Sarah took charge in a gentle way, clearly taking pity on him, the poor man who had no idea what cornflower-blue was.
Gage watched in amazement as Sarah took a yellow dress from the table and held it up to Lucy’s shoulders—a dress with lace and ribbon trim.
Wait a minute, wasn’t Lucy opposed to such frills? Why was Lucy nodding earnestly and gazing up at Sarah as if they’d discovered the perfect dress for Lucy’s first day of school?
“If you’d like to take a stroll down to the tavern, Mr. Gatlin—” the shopkeeper’s mouth was a straight, tight line “—we may be a while.”
No glimmer of interest lit her up as she turned her back, carrying a few dresses toward a back room.
Whew. He released a deep breath he didn’t know he was holding and felt a hundred times better. Whatever had made Millie the Seamstress decide he wasn’t a suitable candidate for a husband, he was grateful. He’d head down to the feed store and escape while he could.
“Isn’t that just the cutest thing?” the matronly woman at the pattern books whispered to another, but her words carried all the way to the door. “Who knew those two would take a sparking to one another? A widow and a widower with girls the same ages. A match made in heaven, no doubt.”
They were talking about him. About him and Sarah. Gage lost control of the door and it smacked him in the knee. Overhead the tiny bells jangled crazily and pain shot up his leg.
What the blazes were those women thinking? He opened his mouth to deny it, but Sarah was chuckling.
“Is it true, Sarah?” Lucy demanded, tugging on the woman’s sleeve. “Are you taking a spark to my pa?”
“Look at him. Too tall, too muscular, too unkempt.” Sarah selected another dress from the table with the ease of a woman made to shop. “Do you think I could take interest in a man like that?”
“You see my troubles.” Lucy sighed as if she carried overwhelming burdens on her shoulders. “He didn’t shave today. I told him to brush his hair.”
“There’s nothing to be done about that.” Sarah looked as though she were enjoying herself, her cheeks pink and mirth lightning her up like a midnight star. “It’s called hat hair—”
“Hey, I’ve taken about all the insults a man can stand.” Hat hair. Is that what Sarah really thought about him?
Her eyes glittered with suppressed laughter as he managed to yank the door wide enough for it to smack against the wood wall and those little frail bells sounded like a flock of squawking birds.
He just wanted out of there and fast. “I’ll be down the street.”
Sarah’s hand covered her mouth, probably to hide how hard she was laughing at him. Women, he muttered as he pulled the door shut behind him. See what a good thing it was he knew to stay the heck away from them?
“What should I do about Pa’s hat hair?” Lucy asked as the door clicked shut and he was on the outside, looking in.
Sarah was bent over laughing—what a tiny waist she had; why hadn’t he noticed that earlier?—and she brushed away Lucy’s concern with a gentle hand to the girl’s brow. Lucy gazed up at her as if Sarah Redding had hung the moon, and he didn’t blame her one bit.
He caught his reflection in the barber’s front window and stopped to take a quick look. There was no flat mat of sweaty hair clinging to his head. I do not have hat hair. His dark locks were windblown, like always. What was wrong with that woman? One thing was clear, Sarah was going to have to pay for humiliating him. The question was, how?
“Pa, look! I got dresses.” Lucy skipped beside Ella down the boardwalk, pointing behind her. Sarah was trailing behind, the prized garments slung over her arm.
“Only one has lace on it, and it ain’t too frilly.”
Gage froze stock-still in front of the mercantile. His little girl looked the happiest he’d ever seen her. “I guess that means you’re ready for your first day of school.”
“Yep. Sarah even got me some new shoes, but only if you say so. We picked ’em out just in case. Ella helped.”
The pale, thin girl nodded, apparently too shy to add her two cent’s worth.
“I was about to take this into the hotel.” Sarah lifted her other hand, showing him the shopping bag stuffed full. “We started an account. Millie said it was no problem to bill you. And to return anything you wanted.”
“Didn’t have trouble spending my money, did you?”
“It’s a woman’s duty. I think it’s written in the Constitution, probably in the Bill of Rights.”
“You mean the part about the pursuit of happiness?”
“What else?” She bustled past him, her petticoats rustling and her step light. “Are you going to stand there or help me with these packages?”
“Sorry, I’m overwhelmed by so many lovely ladies in my presence,” he said by way of excuse for having been so rude.
He rectified that by lifting the package from Sarah’s hand without touching her fingers. Her hair brushed his jaw as he lifted the dresses slung over her forearm.
Her scent of roses clung to the fabric and made it impossible not to think about the woman, and about his reaction to her. She fell into an easy gait at his side.
“I hope you didn’t take to heart what Mrs. Walters said in the dress shop.” Sarah quirked a slim brow, and he couldn’t help noticing the way her light blue sunbonnet framed her face.
“What?”
“You know, about us taking a sparking to one another.”
“I do recall that particular comment.”
“Then you know how ridiculous it is.” The last thing Sarah wanted was for Gage—or anyone else—to think she was harboring romantic notions toward him. “Just because we have children the same age doesn’t mean a thing.”
“I agree.”
“And we’re clearly looking for different paths, you and I.”
“Absolutely.” Gage tugged open the hotel’s etched-glass door. “Besides, why would Mrs. Walters or anyone think that you’d lower your standards so far as to be seen with the likes of me?”
“I agree. You are a disreputable character.”
His baritone chuckle rumbled like midnight. Too bad he was so disillusioned. Too bad he wasn’t looking for love. He looked like a fantasy come true. He’d forgone his morning shave, and dark stubble clung to his rugged jaw. Her fingers itched to know the texture and feel of him.
And there she went again, thinking of the impossible. How could she help it when she had such inspiration?
He began speaking with the doorman and handed over the dresses and packages. She wanted to say goodbye to Gage, but since he was busy, she decided to stop staring at him and headed to the front window instead. The girls were outside, swinging on the empty hitching post.
Ella’s sunbonnet had slipped down her back, and fine white-blond strands had loosened from her braid to fly around her. She pulled one leg over the post and sat alongside Lucy. Lucy leaned to whisper in Ella’s ear, and Ella’s hand flew to her mouth as she giggled.
Seeing how happy and healthy her little girl was made Sarah believe anything was possible. Maybe the future was about to change for the best. Perhaps, if heaven smiled upon them, she would have a full-time position by this time next month. It was so much to hope for—
“Why, Sarah Redding, what are you doing here?” Louisa Montgomery emerged from the hotel dining room, parasol in one hand, regal as always in her fashionable bonnet and tailored brocaded-silk dress. “I didn’t know you started working during the day.”
It had been loud enough for Gage to hear. Sarah watched as he glanced over his shoulder at the lady who waltzed into the lobby, a vision in lilac sateen.
Sarah straightened, hating that many pairs of eyes were looking at her, both through the doorway to the hotel’s busy dining room and in the lobby. “How is your mother?”
“Wanting to hire you again to do the canning. What a touch you have with kitchen work.”
“Give my regards to her, please.” Sarah h
eaded for the door.
“I’m sure she’ll be delighted. Why, Mr. Gatlin, have you hired Sarah, too? She’s a real help when it comes to tasks such as spring cleaning.”
Heavy bootsteps thudded on the floor hard enough to shake the floorboards beneath Sarah’s feet as she reached for the brass doorknob. Firm fingers curled around her arm, burning through her cotton sleeve to the skin beneath. Gage caught hold of the door, refusing to let her open it.
“Sarah is my dining companion.” His warm baritone rumbled like cello strings. “And a finer one I couldn’t have.”
He thought he was charming. Or did he think he was doing her a favor? Everyone was looking at her, or at least it seemed everyone was, the poor relation who’d asked at every home in the county and every business in town for extra work, the kind that could be done around a sick child’s uncertain schedule and her duties for her demanding relatives.
“Gage, I have to run to the post office.”
“The mail doesn’t leave for hours.”
“My aunt is expecting me—”
“You were detained. It was unavoidable.” He leaned close so that his mouth brushed her hair. “Please, save me. That woman is going to talk with me and try to charm me. I don’t think I can survive it.”
“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
“Heartlessness. I didn’t expect that from you, Sarah.” His mouth crooked into that grin that took her breath away. “I expect that you’d be nice to me. Think of the damage you brought on me today.”
“Damage? You don’t mean the bill at the dress shop—”
“No. The harm caused to my feelings. Your criticism cut me to the quick. The least you can do is to let me be seen with a beautiful woman. Repair my wounded pride.”
“What are you talking about?” Truly, he amazed her. Was it all men that failed to make sense, even one so finely made?
“The ‘hat hair’ comment. It pains me deep, Sarah. Rectify your mistake by protecting me from Louisa. She’s likely to follow me into the dining room and where will I be?” His hand remained banded around her wrist, solid and scorching. “Please?”
The kindness beneath his lightly spoken words twisted like a vise around her chest. He felt sorry for her! That’s why he was doing this. Why he was standing so true and tall, pretending as if she would be doing him a favor. When the truth was that he was simply being polite to a poor widow.
“Sorry, but I am otherwise engaged.” She yanked her hand free and spoke low so that her words would not carry. “I’m certain you’re tough enough to handle Louisa on your own.”
“Wait—”
She wasn’t about to be the center of attention. Sitting in the hotel’s fancy dining room and being served with the best of the township’s citizens. Alongside the dashing new man in town. In her gray calico work dress? Next, folks would think she’d set her sights for Gage, and she’d had enough humiliation.
“Ma!” Ella hopped from the hitching post. “Can I—”
“Sorry, baby, but we’re going home.”
“But—”
“You and Lucy can play later.” Sarah charged down the boardwalk, not at all surprised to hear the boom of a man’s step behind her. “Come, now. We have letters to mail.”
“’Bye, Lucy.” Long-faced, Ella waved solemnly to her new friend. “You could bring Scout by if you want—”
“Now, Ella.” Sarah rushed past, not daring to stop. “I hope you enjoy your dresses, Lucy.”
“Hold up there.” Gage fell into stride beside her. “What other previous engagement did you have?”
“You think a woman like me doesn’t have somewhere else to be?”
“What do you mean? You said you had errands, sure, but you had time to help Lucy—”
“Which I thoroughly enjoyed. You have a very likable child, Mr. Gatlin. She is so unlike you.”
He froze, apparently contemplating that remark. “You mean, you don’t like me?”
“No, I don’t.”
He came after her, all power and might. “I thought we were friends.”
“You and I can never be friends.”
“Why not? What do you have against me?” He knuckled back his hat and flashed her the smile that could melt steel.
“What do I have against you? Why, the list would be too long to discuss. We only have seven hours of daylight left.”
“Did I do something and that’s why you’re angry with me?”
Wasn’t that just like a man? Well, the last thing she had time for was to enlighten him. Angry? Of course she was angry. And she was going to stay that way. She marched into the post office, determined to leave him behind.
She wasn’t interested in him, anyway. A man who didn’t believe in love—he probably wasn’t aware of other emotions, either—probably why he was so surprised to hear she was angry.
Perfect. There had to be a line when she was in a hurry. With any luck, she’d left Mr. Gage Gatlin on the sidewalk where he belonged. Maybe providence was smiling on her and he was storming back to the hotel to ask Louisa Montgomery to share a meal with him. Sarah would wager her mother’s gold watch that he wouldn’t buy Louisa dinner out of a misplaced sense of pity.
She might not have a lot, but one thing she didn’t need was Gage Gatlin’s pity.
Is that why he’d plowed the garden patch for her? She slipped into the back of the line, surprised by the harsh knell of her heels on the floor. Heads turned to look her up and down. Mrs. O’Malley lifted one curious eyebrow. Mrs. Lockwood’s face wreathed with clear disapproval.
Heat stained her face and she dug her correspondence out of her reticule. Had she made a spectacle of herself? She hadn’t even considered that other people might have noticed how she’d argued with the handsome widower. Argued. In public. What had she been thinking?
“Saw you in the hotel window with that horseman.” Elderly Mr. Lukens turned around in line and winked. “Don’t you worry none. You’re more than pretty enough to catch the likes of him.”
“You know I’m saving my heart for you, Mr. Lukens.”
“Don’t I know it. All the pretty girls want to court me, but I’m remaining true to my Ann.”
“His Ann” had been buried for five years. “There are a lot of broken hearts in this town because of it. Including mine.”
He chuckled as he glanced past her shoulder to the door as it flew open. “Looks like I’m about to have more competition than an old goat like me can stand.”
Gage. He eased into line behind her.
What should she do? Mrs. O’Malley hid a smirk behind her gloved hand. People were noticing and likely to form the wrong conclusion.
What she had to do was to keep it proper and formal. Act as if she and Gage were nothing more than acquaintances, which was only the truth.
She faced him with as much dignity as she could manage. “Good day, Mr. Gatlin. I was unaware you had business here.”
“My business is with you.”
Sarah took one look at the tight clamp of his jaw, where muscles quivered beneath the sun-browned skin and rogue’s stubble. “We have no more business, Mr. Gatlin.”
“Is that right?” His gray eyes glowed as dark as a winter storm and he snatched the envelopes from her grip and handed them to Mr. Luckens along with a five-dollar gold piece. “Would you mind, sir?”
“Never was one to stand in the way of two love-birds.” Mr. Lukens cackled with delight and gave Sarah another wink.
As Gage took her by the arm, she caught sight of Mrs. O’Malley choking on unladylike laughter and Mrs. Lockwood shaking her head with abject disdain.
“I have to work in this town,” she told him the instant the post office door swung closed behind them. “I can’t afford to be made a laughingstock. I’m fairly new to town and have had enough trouble getting work when I can—”
“Sarah.” His hand brushed the side of her face, rough calluses rasping across her skin.
He was going to kiss her, she realized. T
he sounds of the world around them faded until there was only the rapid panic of her heart thudding in her ears. And the naked want in Gage’s gaze as he leaned a fraction of an inch closer.
Unable to breathe, unable to think, all she could see was him. His shoulders an uncompromising line, his Stetson dark against the thick gray clouds that made the sky. The desire in his eyes deepened, and her lips began to tingle.
What would his kiss feel like? Bold, she had no doubt of that. Intense. Overwhelming. The thought made her knees shake. Anticipation buzzed low in her stomach. As if by magic, she felt the heels of her feet lift upward, putting her in perfect kissing position.
He eased closer, their lips a scant inch apart. He was going to kiss her, there was no doubt about it as he turned his head slightly. His mouth parted just enough to call attention to his lips. His chiseled, hard-looking lips that softened, gentled as he leaned closer. She smelled wind and leather and man, as intoxicating as wine, as exhilarating as dreams. Her own lips responded, eager to feel the heat of his kiss, the taste of him—
Like the crack of a whip, the door behind them caught the wind and smacked wide open. Sarah jerked away from Gage’s impending kiss. Mrs. Lockwood filled the threshold.
“Goodness be!” Nose up, she marched down the boardwalk with amazing speed. Her finely tailored skirt with her quick gait.
Reality crashed into Sarah’s mind like a blow to her chin.
What had she been thinking? She hadn’t been, that was the problem. She’d let her romantic fancy get the best of her when she should have kept her wits and her principles about her.
They were standing on the boardwalk, six paces from the town square. In plain sight of the street and the shops and the hotel. She was a mother. Mothers didn’t behave this way, kissing handsome men in the streets.
Where was Ella? It suddenly occurred to her that she’d lost her child. Well, what could be expected? She’d clearly lost her mind. Gone daft. A total lunatic. What kind of sane, sensible, practical mother lost track of her child?
Gage stared at her, confusion making harsh lines dig deep into his forehead. Maybe common sense was returning to him, too. He jumped back as if finally figuring out what disaster had almost occurred.
