Engaging the Competition

by Melissa Jagears

  “You just always have to win, don’t you.” He forced himself not to run her asymmetrical pencils through the sharpener lest she think he couldn’t appreciate her help.

  “I wasn’t trying to win. I was just . . . Never mind, maybe I was.” She rounded his desk and dropped the pile of crudely sharpened pencils into the drawer. “Are you going to quit talking to me again, like you did after the Sunday school party?”

  If only that day had never occurred, where might they be now? “I didn’t stop talking to you because you shot better than me—we all knew you could probably shoot better than us—but I wasn’t too keen on hanging around you after you purposely embarrassed me in front of the boys.”

  “I did not.”

  All right. Embarrassing him was one thing, denying doing so was another. He’d forgiven her for it, but . . . He stood and leaned heavily on his desk. “What do you call picking up my gun as soon as I finished shooting and knocking down every target I missed?”

  “You’d just got that gun for your birthday and told everyone how good it was. I picked it up, shot with it, and agreed. I said, ‘That’s an excellent gun.’” She stomped. “I was agreeing with you!”

  She’d been trying to make him feel good by doing that? He swallowed hard, closed his eyes, and blew out a slow breath. “You’re wrong, Charlie.” He rounded the desk toward her.

  She took a step back. “No, I’m not. It was a good gun. And that’s what I said. I know what I said.”

  “No, I mean you’re wrong about me.” Had her actions really been that innocent? How could he have missed that all this time? It seemed that he never acted right when she was around. He thumped himself in the chest. “You might think I’m smarter than you, but I’m the fool.” All these years and she’d only been trying to show off his gun. Granted, she’d certainly done it in her gruff, Charlie-like manner. But still, why hadn’t he talked to her about it before now? He swallowed hard and beckoned her to come closer.

  She stood still.

  “I can’t see you that far away from me. Please come here.”

  She reluctantly stepped forward but still out of reach. “I think this is far enough for propriety’s sake.”

  “Without my glasses, I can’t gauge your expressions as I normally can. I want to see your face.”

  “I didn’t know you ever bothered to look at me.”

  “I do, quite a bit.” The reverend had noticed he always stared at her from afar, but evidently she hadn’t.

  “But you barely talk to me.” Her voice didn’t quite clue him in on whether she was incredulous, hurt, or something else all together.

  “I just told you I was a fool.” Why had he stayed so far away from her? What was he afraid of exactly?

  He sighed and sat on the edge of his desk, since she seemed determined to keep away from him. “I thought you had purposely showed me up. I’d worked so hard with my new glasses to shoot well enough to be a part of the boys. They always left me out of their games and teased me about the glasses. But I knew I could impress them if I practiced with my uncle long enough. And that day, I even shot better than Joe and Theodore, and then . . .”

  The feelings from so long ago flooded back over him, the same heat filled his face, the same lump stuck in his chest. “Then whomp.” He smashed a fist into his palm. “You swooped in and belittled me. At that age, having a girl outdo you like that—even though we all knew you were good at shooting—well, I couldn’t believe you’d do that to me after all the help I’d given you.”

  “I’m sorry.” She laid a hand against the base of her throat. “I just wanted to be a part too.”

  “Did you know they teased me whenever I defended you?”

  “Defended me against what?”

  “They used to call you names. Basically calling you stupid, but I stood up for you. And that of course led to them taunting me over wanting to kiss you and such.”

  “You didn’t think me stupid?”

  “No. Like you noticed with George—who’s a new student for me, by the way—I knew you were smart, that you just needed help. Generally all I had to do was figure out what you were thinking and rephrase what the teacher or book said so you’d get it. Seemed you learned more by talking than reading.”

  Her arms wrapped about her middle. “Can you figure out what I’m thinking now?”

  “No.” He blew out a breath and spread out his hands. “Not if I can’t see you.”

  She remained where she was.

  Really, did they have to be this far apart for propriety’s sake with no one around?

  He walked over, grabbed her by the shoulders, and pulled her closer until the hair framing her face was in focus and he could see from her big green eyes down to her nose before things went out of focus again.

  All right, so in order to see her expressions, he did have to be closer than he ought to be.

  Her lashes swooped up and her eyes scanned his. “You just said you used to be able to figure out what was going on in my brain.” Her breath puffed soft against his face. “Can you still?”

  “I’d always thought so, but now that I’ve learned my fifteen-year-old self’s pride got the better of me, maybe I’m not very perceptive after all.” He took in her every eyelash and noticed the slight blue spot in her right eye. “You want to tell me what you’re thinking?”

  “No.” She whispered, and her arms tensed beneath his hands.

  Did she want him to guess—like a game? He backed away enough to see her whole face though it went slightly out of focus.

  Her lips seemed to be twitching, and was she looking at his mouth?

  “So after you told the boys I wasn’t stupid and . . . and after they teased you about me and you . . . and you and me . . . Then what’d you say?”

  She wanted to know how he’d responded to the kissing chant?

  His heartbeat slowed. They were only inches apart, and she wanted him to figure out what she was thinking while she stared at his mouth.

  He tried to swallow using his now strangely dry tongue.

  That kissing chant hadn’t bothered him because the thought had repulsed him. No—quite the opposite.

  But then she’d humiliated him. “Why exactly did you have to shoot down my missed targets again?”

  “I wanted to impress you. I couldn’t impress you in school, so I thought I could do it that way.”

  “Why did you want to impress me?”

  She shrugged under his grasp, and he tightened his grip on her shoulders and pulled her forward. Just an inch lower and they’d . . .

  Wait. What was he doing? This woman was engaged.

  But she didn’t pull away, and despite them being closer than his visual difficulty required, he dipped his head.

  “Ahem.”

  He jolted upright, released Charlie, and spun toward the door, trying to make out who’d interrupted them. A boy’s form grew slightly clearer as he walked into the room.

  “I . . . I needed a book I left.” Cash Whitaker’s voice made his heart seize.

  Since the boy cleared his throat before coming in, he’d certainly considered the two of them to be inappropriately close—and would likely tell his older brother August about what he’d seen.

  Oh, why couldn’t he keep his head about him when Charlie was around?

  Chapter Six

  Glancing at the hallway clock, Charlie slowed. Ten minutes until class started. She was plenty early today. Stopping at the door, she peeked in to see Harrison at his desk with a book held directly in front of his face.

  Now that she was here early, she wasn’t sure she should be.

  Had he almost kissed her yesterday, or had that been her imagination? He’d been close to her face countless times over the last two weeks because of his eyesight, but he’d never quite held her like that before. His hands had been too tight, his breath too fast—and her daydreams had sprung back in full force. If he’d indeed been able to read her expression . . .

  An engaged woman imagining
another man’s kiss was wrong.

  An engaged woman pining all night for the kiss she’d thought she’d almost gotten was incredibly wrong.

  What if he’d meant to kiss her before Cash came barging in? Good thing he had though. She’d had to remind herself constantly on the way here that marrying anyone other than August or Royal would not help her situation. She’d found seed corn missing this morning, and her dog hadn’t even bothered to alert her to an intruder, likely because he was becoming used to Royal skulking around. He’d probably even brought the dog a treat considering how Skippy turned his nose up at the scraps she’d tossed him this morning.

  Or maybe Royal had sent over one of the hands who used to work for her. Skippy would’ve run straight to Doc, Darrell Black, or Michael Fastwell.

  So much for loyalty—from either her former ranch hands or her dog.

  She had to marry August. An almost kiss didn’t automatically lead to a doomed marriage, right?

  Hearing a door slam and human voices down the hall, she slipped inside the classroom.

  Harrison lowered the book, still squinting. “Hello, Charlie.”

  “How’d you know it was me this time?” She’d thoroughly washed the balm off her hands and put on some of Momma’s flowery lotion before leaving the house.

  His smile slanted in a way that made her heart buck. “The way you walk.”

  Oh, Lord, get his glasses here today. My heart can’t take his smile any longer without hope for anything more.

  “I’m glad you’re here early. I need you to write some things on the board.” He shoved a paper toward the edge of the desk. “I wrote it down, and I’ve twice tried to put it on the board but can’t keep my lines straight. They end up crossing each other.”

  So his smile hadn’t been because he was happy she was here, but because she could do his writing for him. Stupid heart. The scolding she’d given herself last night over how she’d leaned in for a kiss he shouldn’t and probably didn’t want to give her hadn’t stuck.

  The thought of kissing her probably hadn’t even crossed his mind. His poor eyesight had misled her imagination. There was no reason other than bad eyes for a man to get close enough to kiss her—well, except marrying her for her land, though August had yet to even try a peck on the lips. But he surely would soon.

  She shivered and rubbed her arms before picking up Harrison’s notes and a piece of chalk.

  “Are you cold?”

  “Why would you think I was cold?”

  “I’m not completely blind, Charlie. You rubbed your arms and made a shivering noise.” He scooted his chair back. “I’ll shut the windows.”

  “Don’t bother.” She put a hand on his shoulder to push him back down.

  “So Cash was right.” A deep roll of a man’s voice boomed behind her.

  And now a real shiver took over her body and made her hair stand up on her neck. She whirled around to face Royal, putting her right hand against her hip—not that she’d carried her gun to school. But she should have. “What are you doing here?”

  “My little brother told me you two were cozying up to each other.”

  Harrison’s chair screeched. “We are not.”

  “Why would Cash tell you anything about what I’m doing?” She crossed her arms against her chest. “I ain’t none of your business.”

  “Oh yes you are. Did you really think August could keep his plan to marry you secret from me?”

  She bit her lip. She’d definitely thought August would keep that secret—hadn’t he said so when he brought over the cattle last week? What would he gain by telling his brother—other than trouble?

  “But Cash doesn’t know about August. He still thinks I’m interested in you.” Royal spat. “I’ve never been interested in you.”

  No. Just my land. Just like August. She glanced at Harrison. The last thing she needed was for Royal to expose her sham of a betrothal to the one person in town who might half care what happened to her.

  “Now, Royal, this is no time to belittle others, especially your future sister-in-law.” Harrison slid in between her and Royal, his arms cocked on his hips as if he’d defend her—even though he couldn’t see his own toes. “I know you thought picking on her was fun in grade school, but I will not tolerate that in my classroom or we’ll have to go outside.”

  “I don’t even have to touch you, Gray. All I have to do is tell the school board you’ve been smooching and that’s the end of you.”

  “That might get female teachers fired, but I doubt they’d care so much with me. And it’s an empty threat considering I haven’t been kissing anyone.”

  “You denying what Cash saw?”

  “Yes.” Harrison nodded, and Royal took a step forward.

  She pushed her way in between them and poked Royal in the chest. “Tell Cash to get his eyes checked.”

  Royal jabbed her back in the shoulder. “And you . . .”

  Thankfully Harrison couldn’t see how hard Royal had poked her. She didn’t know what would happen if the two of them started a wrestling match ten minutes before class. The school board might not fire Harrison for kissing, but they might for fighting in front of students.

  Royal prodded her again. “I find it interesting that when I asked August if he knew where you were and what you were doing, he said you’d be at your ranch, like usual.”

  She swallowed, but she didn’t have to explain herself to Royal. “I don’t answer to August—and surely not to you.”

  “I’m sure my brother will love to hear that.” Royal backed up and measured her with a haughty glare. “August isn’t going to marry you once Cash and I tell him what you’re up to. He might not be the sharpest stick in the woodpile, but he ain’t so ugly he has to settle for a woman like you.” Royal stormed away and slammed the door, which bounced back open.

  She huffed, picked up the chalk and notebook paper, and stalked over to the chalkboard.

  Harrison came closer, scratching his chin. “Aren’t you worried about August backing out on you?”

  She lifted one shoulder in a half shrug and started writing. “I doubt Royal will tell him we were kissing, so—”

  “But we weren’t kissing!” Harrison’s forehead furrowed.

  “Right.” The chalk cracked and fell from her hand. She leaned over to pick up one of the broken pieces. “Who’d ever want to kiss me?” She muttered under her breath. “Absurd.”

  Why was she getting so upset over the truth? Wasn’t she happy they’d not kissed? He’d have ruined her upcoming wedding. “What’d you say?” Maybe he’d misheard her.

  “Nothing.”

  “So you’re not worried about August?” Surely no man would be happy about his fiancée kissing another, but was Royal right? Had she not told August she was helping him? If she’d helped him in secret because she thought August would be jealous, he wouldn’t like the news Cash would surely spread.

  “No, if Royal really thought he could talk August out of marrying me with hearsay, he’d not have bothered to come here and threaten me. I don’t know how he learned that August and I were marrying, but if he thought your kissing me—”

  “But I wasn’t kissing—”

  “Fine, you wouldn’t be tempted to do something so distasteful, I know—but Royal doesn’t.” She waved her hand angrily and went back to the awful chalk scratching. “But if he thought our kissing would work in his favor, he would’ve told August.” She stomped back to the other side of the board. “He only figured he’d found another way to try to bully me into giving him my property. Didn’t work.”

  “He’s trying to bully you into giving him your property?” The man deserved someone to flatten his nose—again. He’d have thought Royal would’ve quit harassing Charlie years ago after she’d broken his nose the second time. Too bad he’d not gone ahead and broken his nose a third time a minute ago.

  “Yes, he has and still is. That’s why I’ve got to marry. I can’t keep the place running much longer with him stealing my a
nimals, ranch hands, equipment, and keeping anybody new from working for me. Once a bully, always a bully.”

  He’d forced himself not to shove Royal out of his room earlier to keep from starting a fight.

  He shouldn’t have been so nice.

  “But why marry August? Can’t you turn Royal in to the authorities?”

  “It’s my word against his. The only other people who know what he’s doing is his family, and no Whitaker turns in another Whitaker. Besides, offering my ranch hands better pay to work for him isn’t exactly illegal.”

  She seemed too blasé about this. Reverend McCabe had wondered why she was marrying. A week ago he’d have said her reasons for marrying didn’t matter to him as long as she wasn’t being pushed . . . but maybe she was being pushed, just in a different way than he’d expected. “So why August?”

  “As I said, the Whitakers look out for themselves. The family ain’t going to let Royal ruin August’s livelihood. And since he knows for certain what his brother’s been doing to me, if Royal continues, he can turn him in.”

  “Why not marry some other man?”

  She grumbled at her chalk, which had broken in her hand again. “Who’d have me?”

  He wiped his hands against his trousers. “Surely someone other than August and Royal.”

  “I’m twenty-five, Harrison. No man’s ever been interested besides Royal. I had to ask August myself.”

  She was wrong about no man ever being interested. He hadn’t been the only one slightly enamored with her back in school. “I’m sure someone else—”

  “Don’t bother trying to make me feel better about myself. I’ve accepted my lot. Besides, Royal wouldn’t stop harassing me if I married any other ol’ Joe. He’d keep bullying until he put us both under.” She threw down her chalk stub and searched for a larger piece. “No, I have to marry a Whitaker, but it sure won’t be Royal.”

  He snatched away the only big piece of chalk she’d yet to break. “Listen. I’m sure there are other men who’d consider you, Charlie. You’re strong, courageous, clearly love your mother, and are good with children. I’ve seen you.” If he had his glasses, he could’ve seen whether or not she believed him by the expression on her face.