Good Guy Heroes Boxed Set

by Julie Ortolon

  Duke shouldn’t have sent the lumber so soon. She hadn’t earned it yet. He’d never mentioned bringing his family and crew to work on her house, or even his intention of doing so. If he had, she would have told him no. She could never pay for this. And she hated for these people to see her family camped out in a vacant building like a band of gypsies.

  If Iris had instigated this, Faith would strangle her. She waved from the doorway, wanting a word with her outrageous aunt, but Iris was too busy flirting with Patrick to notice.

  “Faith!” Evelyn Grayson beckoned her to the kitchen corner where she and Amelia were working at Faith’s makeshift counter. “I’m afraid we’ve taken over your kitchen, and borrowed some plates from that crate,” Evelyn said cheerfully

  Heaping plates of food covered Faith’s plank counters. Had they known she couldn’t feed these men? That she couldn’t offer anything but cold glasses of water? Were they here to make sure their husbands didn’t go without supper?

  Faith looked at her dented metal dishpans and the mountain of pots and plates stacked in crates on the floor, and her face burned. She forced herself to face the ladies. “How kind of you to bring supper.” Several plates were laden with quartered potatoes that looked as if they’d been cooked in the same pot as the thick slabs of roast pork. The aroma made Faith’s mouth water. “I’m afraid I have nothing to contribute. I can’t even offer you ladies a chair, because I don’t have one.” Aster and Dahlia had moved the table aside, and tucked the barrels and planks underneath to keep them out of the way. Now they were piling their pallets and blankets on top of the table in an embarrassing heap.

  “Well, you just moved to town.” Evelyn placed fat, cooked carrots on the plates. “It makes perfect sense that you dedicated your time and efforts to your business first. I don’t know of a place that can compare to your Evergreen House.”

  Her greenhouse was special, with its hearty plants and unique herbs, and the pleasure of her bathhouse was unmatched by any business in the area, but that didn’t lessen Faith’s embarrassment over her makeshift furnishings.

  “Everyone has raved about the bath,” Amelia said with a warm smile. “My motherin-law and I are hoping to schedule a visit later this week, and I honestly can’t wait.”

  “That will give me an opportunity to repay you for bringing all this lovely food,” Faith replied.

  “Absolutely not!” Amelia and Evelyn said in unison. Evelyn pushed a plate into Faith’s hands. “Neighbors help each other. Now eat. You look tired and hungry. I’ll tell the men to stop for supper.”

  She left Faith standing with Amelia, whose eyes were filled with compassion. “I used to teach in Laona several years ago,” she said. “My stipend was so scant it took me three months to afford fabric for a dress. I lived in a tiny room attached to the schoolhouse, and my worldly possessions consisted of a dry sink, a too-small stove, one rickety table, and an old bed. There’s no reason for you to feel ashamed of this building, Faith. It may be empty of furnishings at the moment, but it will make a fine home.”

  Faith lowered her lashes to hide the tears in her eyes. She cursed her weakness, but she was tired and overwhelmed by the warm welcome from the Graysons. “Thank you,” she whispered, hoping Amelia heard her appreciation through the banging hammers.

  Amelia patted her shoulder. “I’ll take a plate to your daughter. Maybe she can convince this little one inside of me to be a girl. I’m due in December with my third child,” she said, rubbing her flat stomach. “Marshall is six, and Lucas is three. Kyle and I adore our sons, but I’m feeling outnumbered and would love to have girl.”

  Amelia’s confession warmed Faith. “I’ll pray that December brings you an easy delivery and a healthy girl,” she said.

  “Thank you, and please add a prayer that my morning sickness ends soon.”

  Faith laughed. “Ginger might help. You may still get sick, but it will settle your stomach. I’ll give you some roots before you leave,” she said, relieved she could offer something in return. “Simmer three or four thin slices of the root in a pint of water for about twenty minutes then sip it a little at a time throughout the day.”

  “I’ll have Kyle purchase some from you before we leave.”

  “Absolutely not,” Faith argued. “I’ll give you the roots.”

  “Thank you.” Amelia squeezed Faith’s hand, and her warm acceptance allowed Faith a necessary measure of pride.

  When Amelia walked away, Faith picked up a plate of food and leaned against the wall to eat before she fainted from hunger. Across the room, Cora’s face beamed with importance as she toted a full water glass to Duke’s brother Boyd, who knelt on one knee and pressed his hand to his heart, looking like a prince as he accepted Cora’s gift. He was playing with the child, flirting with her, his smile so charming Faith would have swooned if he’d directed it at her.

  But Cora blabbed and picked sawdust off his shirt as if he were her pet dog.

  Boyd shrugged at his brothers as if to say he’d lost his touch. Kyle’s laughter boomed through the building, and his teeth flashed in the light of several lanterns. He was handsome like Duke. And clearly in love with his wife. He slipped his arm around Amelia and placed his palm over her belly as if assuring himself his lady and baby were all right. The gesture was tender and intimate and so loving, Faith wondered if anyone else noticed it.

  Evelyn and Radford had, and it seemed to please them. They also exchanged a heated look of love and desire, and it could have broiled the roast pork Evelyn was offering her husband.

  Yes, these Grayson men were handsome, lusty creatures. They were cut from the same block of stone. Of course, the Creator had used a finer tool to chisel Evelyn’s husband Radford and his brother Boyd. These two were slimmer in build, with finer features—not more handsome than Duke or Kyle, just more polished. Duke and his brother Kyle were rough-cut, with wider, muscular builds, and slightly rugged features that lent Duke a dangerous edge to his scowl and a heart-stopping intensity when his eyes locked on hers.

  Like when he’d kissed her in the bathhouse.

  Like now, when he stood across an entire room and caressed her with his gaze.

  He wore denim pants and a green cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up his thick forearms. A hammer hung from his hip instead of a gun, but she felt power and danger radiating from him nonetheless. He started toward her.

  The plank floorboards vibrated beneath the heavy tread of his boots as he crossed the room, and she could barely swallow the piece of pork she’d been chewing. She tried to calm herself and clear the desire that was clouding her thinking. She wanted this man, not just the security he could give her; she’d known for certain when he’d given her that playful wink while they were in the bathhouse. He was a good man, a kind and generous man to bring the lumber and put up her walls for her. But regardless of their heated kissing match in the bathhouse, or the seductive promise in his eyes as he strode toward her on those long, powerful legs, she was going to take him to task for doing all this without consulting her.

  He stopped in front of her and dipped his mouth to her ear. “I missed you today,” he said then boldly nibbled her earlobe with his warm lips.

  She melted like grease on a griddle; hot in the center, sizzling on the edges.

  He lifted his head and smiled with his eyes. “I suppose you’re going to flay me for this?”

  “To pieces,” she said, “just as soon as I get my breath back.”

  His chuckle was so intimate, so unforgivably seductive, she couldn’t decide whether to kick him or lean into his hot, hard body and be consumed by his fire.

  Chapter Seventeen

  *

  THE HOURS AND days spun by too fast for Faith to find time to really sit down and talk to Iris. She woke before dawn, worked until dusk in the greenhouse then spent the evenings feeding Duke’s family and crew.

  Duke played seductive games with her while he and the men worked on her house. The Grayson women brought food and a neighborl
y friendship Faith had never known. The ladies society delivered curtains, and one woman donated parlor furniture she was replacing. Another woman donated paint and rolls of wallpaper from her husband’s store. Several women had received complimentary massages from Faith and her aunts, and were happy to contribute what they could to make Faith’s house a home.

  Faith stood in her makeshift kitchen, proudly dishing up a hearty beef stew she’d made for supper. The meal had diminished her meager earnings but contributed to her pride. Claire and Anna brought three warm loaves of bread and two blueberry pies to complete the meal.

  Faith handed a bowl of stew to Claire, who carried it to her husband. Intrigued by their relationship, Faith lowered the ladle in the pot and watched them. Claire Grayson playfully lifted a spoonful of stew to her husband’s gorgeous mouth. Boyd devoured her with his eyes as he accepted her offering, and Faith could see that he didn’t just lust after his beautiful wife, he loved her deeply and passionately, and didn’t care who could see it. Radford and Kyle were the same way with their wives.

  Faith’s life had provided endless examples of lust, but not one example of love, so when Claire returned to the kitchen Faith longed to ask her what marriage was like. But she also feared the question might be too personal, and that asking would reveal too much about herself.

  Dahlia placed a stack of pie plates on the counter next to Claire. “How can you breathe with your husband’s gaze gobbling you up like a dish of cream?” she asked.

  Claire smiled. “I gave up breathing the moment I met him.”

  “You mean after you shot his window out,” Anna commented with a soft laugh. The woman’s shy, hesitant manner made Faith feel protective of her. She seemed afraid to relax, as if she was always waiting and watching for some unseen danger.

  “Is that true?” Dahlia asked.

  “I’m afraid so. Boyd owned a noisy tavern across the street from my boarding house, which we now live in,” Claire said. “His wretched saloon was ruining my business, so I dragged my grandmother’s revolver outside in hopes of convincing him to shut the place down. I accidentally shot out his window.”

  “And when that didn’t work,” Anna added, “she led a band of temperance women against him.”

  Dahlia lifted her water glass in a toast. “I’d be proud to call you my sister.”

  Claire’s smile faded. “It was a bad idea, Dahlia. I wanted to protect my business, and stop men from beating their wives and children, but I caused more harm than good. Men lost their jobs, Boyd’s beautiful bar was destroyed, and three men got shot. Duke was forced to kill a man because of my marches.”

  An icy feeling rushed through Faith. Duke was the sheriff. It shouldn’t have surprised her that his job had forced him to kill a man. But it unnerved her to know he’d taken a life, and terrified her that he might be forced to face his own death in the line of duty. He was rock solid, though, and she could depend on him to make the hard choice if he ever faced Judge Stone.

  “Men who beat women should be castrated,” Dahlia said. “I commend you for facing down those men, and I’d gladly join your marches if you were still doing it.”

  “The temperance union still marches, Dahlia, but Anna and I believe it’s more helpful for us to offer a woman and her children a safe place to stay until she can make more suitable living arrangements.”

  “So do I,” Dahlia said, her eyes lit with passion. “When I was seventeen, I saw a women beaten by her husband, begging a minister for help. He told her to be more obedient and sent her home. I vowed then and there to… to never marry.”

  Anna picked up two empty plates and held them near the pie Claire was cutting. “I don’t blame you, Dahlia. If I ever get a divorce from Larry, I’ll spend the rest of my life unmarried.”

  “Never say never.” Claire scooped out a slice of pie and slid it onto a plate. “I swore I would never marry again, and I didn’t think I could have children,” she said. “But here I am with a husband and two boys I love and adore. I couldn’t be happier.”

  “Why wouldn’t you be happy?” Dahlia looked across the room to where Boyd was working, hammer in hand, his shirtsleeves rolled up muscled forearms, his dark, handsome profile too perfect for words. “If a man like your husband ever knocks on my door, I’ll marry him before he can ask for directions.”

  Claire and Anna laughed, their warmth and kindness soothing the rawness in Faith’s heart.

  An echo of laughter came from the other side of the room, and they turned to see Patrick dancing Iris through the studded wall of the bedroom he’d just finished framing. Faith sighed and decided to let Iris off the hook. Although she’d flirted with Patrick all week, she’d maintained acceptable behavior for Cora’s and Adam’s benefit. And for her own.

  Iris wouldn’t admit it, but she’d finally met her match. Patrick Lyons was outrageous enough to keep her off balance.

  And Tansy certainly enjoyed flirting with Cyrus. Mr. Darling was a quiet man, and acted with utmost decorum, but his eyes followed Tansy like she was an exotic butterfly in a field of wildflowers. Tansy’s airy southern sweetness charmed the man, and the dazed look on his face said he was a goner.

  Faith was too. Duke was temptation itself. Every treatment on his shoulder put them alone together and thrust temptation in her path. Every charming half-smile, every teasing wink from his thick-lashed eyes, every scorching kiss and touch of his strong hands drew her closer to his flame. And that heat built between them the following week as he and the men finished framing up her house.

  But Faith wasn’t the only one craving Duke’s attention. Adam hung on Duke’s every word, trying his hand at carpentry, beaming when Duke praised him, letting Duke teach him skills a father should teach his son.

  Faith wanted Duke to be the one who guided Adam into manhood—and for him to guide her into becoming a wife and mother to their children.

  Chapter Eighteen

  *

  ADAM LEFT HIS kicking-stone by the greenhouse and hurried out onto Liberty Street. Sheriff Grayson had a rowboat stashed in the gorge behind the house he shared with his mother, and he’d told Adam they could take it out today—after Adam apologized to Faith. So Adam had told Faith he was sorry, and she’d forgiven him as she always did; but her forgiveness only made him feel worse. He would never lie to her, or to anyone, again.

  As he walked past Rebecca’s house, he saw her family in the front yard under the huge oak tree. Rebecca’s father was on his knees straddling William, who was calling for help. A little boy ran across the yard with a wild whoop, and jumped on Mr. Grayson’s back. “Got you, Daddy!” he cried.

  Rebecca’s dad gave a loud grunt and fell to his side.

  Adam huffed out a quiet laugh. It would take a man the sheriff’s size or bigger to knock over Mr. Grayson.

  “Help us, Becca!” the little boy yelled, clamping his arms around his dad’s neck.

  Rebecca dashed across the yard, her pretty black hair bouncing across her back.

  Adam’s heart cartwheeled, and he stopped to watch. He hunched down and braced his elbows in the tumble of morning glory vines that flowed like a waterfall over the stone fence.

  Rebecca planted her foot on her father’s stomach. “Unhand my brothers, you ogre.”

  Her dad lunged upward and grabbed Rebecca’s waist, making her screech as he pulled her into the fray.

  “Get her, Dad!” William yelled.

  Rebecca swatted at her brother. “You little turncoat,” she said then burst into wild laughter as her father tickled her.

  “What are the magic words?” Mr. Grayson asked.

  “I love you,” Rebecca gasped and giggled, kicking her feet.

  “Are you sure?” he asked, not letting up.

  “Yes!” She shrieked with laughter. “I love you, Daddy!”

  Her father stopped tickling, and kissed her forehead. “I love you too, sprite.”

  Mrs. Grayson planted her hands on her hips and looked at her family sprawled on the lawn. “Who
is going to scrub those grass stains out of your clothes?” she asked.

  “Nobody. We’ll wear them to clean the barn.” Mr. Grayson caught his wife’s hand and pulled her down beside him then promptly growled and bit her neck.

  Her laughter filled the yard. “You need a shave.”

  “I need a kiss.” He planted a big one right on her lips.

  The boys both groaned and tried to save their father by tugging him away. Rebecca laughed and cuffed William in the head as she sprinted toward the tree.

  That’s when she saw Adam.

  She gave him a cheerful wave, but Adam was too stunned to return her greeting. He didn’t know a father wrestled with his sons and tickled his daughter and kissed his wife in the middle of the yard.

  Rebecca trotted to the fence. “Thank you for the gift,” she said, her face glowing with happiness.

  Gift? Adam had tucked a note in the stone fence for her two days ago, but he hadn’t been sure she would remember to look for one. She had suggested it the last time he’d walked her to school. But the note sure seemed to make her happy.

  Rebecca’s father was walking straight toward them with a look on his face that made Adam’s stomach queasy. “I’d better go,” he said, pushing off the fence. “I’ll leave another note when I can.”

  “Mama made some sweet tea this morning. Can you stay for a glass?”

  He shook his head. The cool look in her father’s eyes told him that he wasn’t welcome.

  Mr. Grayson put his hand on Rebecca’s shoulder. “Your mother needs help getting lunch on the table,” he said.

  Rebecca’s brows pinched in confusion, but she could only cast a worried glance at Adam before dashing into the house.

  Mr. Grayson sat on the fence, his manner friendly, his eyes suspicious. “Adam, you seem like a nice young man, but Rebecca is too young for courting.”

  “COURTing?” Adam cleared his throat. “We’re just friends, sir.”