by Jillian Hart
“Is there no one who can help you?” She couldn’t keep from caring. The heat of his hand in hers trickled through skin and bone and spilled into her blood, a sweet syrupy feeling of connection. “You must have family and friends somewhere.”
“No.” A muscle jumped along his jaw. “I have no one.”
“Yes, you do.” Affection whispered through her, more loudly with each heartbeat. “You have me.”
His face twisted and he looked away as if he had more to say and feelings to hide.
So did she.
“It’s fortunate for Thomas.” His baritone sounded strangled.
“It’s fortunate for me.”
Somehow she felt wide-open, as if her feelings were on the outside instead of in where they were safe. No man ever had affected her like this. Caleb was a stranger to her, someone she hadn’t known twenty-four hours before and yet she knew what mattered. His heart was big. Hardship had drawn creases into his handsome face. Hard times were evident in his old scuffed boots and well-worn clothes. His palm hot against hers was rough with thick calluses, proof the man had once worked very hard.
An uncommon wanting rose within her, part emotion, part respect, part desire. Minutes passed in silence but when his gaze captured hers no words were necessary. She could feel his emotions as if they were her own. His regret over years spent not knowing about his son. His determination to do right by him. His relief not to be alone.
Could he feel her emotions, too? As he searched her eyes, could he sense the tide of her feelings, her regard of him and the quiet flutter of longing? Maybe she had been a widow for too long, but she had come across many men in her work, especially at the bakery where the townsmen stopped by for breakfast and lunch. No one, not one, had ever roped her heart like this.
“The temperature has fallen so far, even the house is chilly here by the hearth.” She withdrew her hand, hating to do so, wishing she could hold on awhile more. It took all her willpower to stand. “I fear the barn will be too cold for you.”
“Don’t worry about me, Caroline. I’ve slept in far worse conditions than this. Your stable will be more than fine.”
“I’m sure, but I will hardly be able to sleep in my warm bed imagining you freezing out there in the spare stall.” She crossed to a tall wardrobe standing near to her bedroom door. Her skirts swirled around her feminine form, drawing his admiration. She was a fine-looking woman. The more he saw of her, the more beauty there was to see. She flung open the doors and pulled out an armful of quilts. “I even have an extra pillow somewhere, too. Oh, here it is.”
“I could use the quilts, thanks, but I’m heading outside.” He folded the blade and tucked his knife into his shirt pocket. The chunk of partly whittled wood followed. “I’ll work on this out there.”
“Don’t think of crossing me on this.” She breezed around him, commanding him with a smile. The quilts tumbled to the couch cushion with the pillow on top. “You will sleep right here by the fire, end of argument.”
“I wasn’t aware we were arguing.”
“Not yet we aren’t. I won’t budge on this, so I’m warning you. Do as I wish.” She swirled toward him, chin set, eyes sparkling, mischievous. Everything a man like him could wish for.
No way could he say no to her. He stood his ground, or at least he wanted to look as if he did. “What happens if I don’t?”
“Picture this.” She tilted her head back to peer up at him. Flyaway tendrils gleamed in the lamplight, making her golden, making her irresistible. “Light, fluffy pancakes stacked high with butter melting down the sides, dripping with maple syrup. Eggs sunny side up, crisp bacon, coffee steaming. Does that sound good to you?”
“My mouth is watering.”
“Now instead picture yesterday’s hard boiled egg on your plate, a piece of dry toast. A cup of hot water, not even with tea leaves steeping. That’s what you get if you go against my wishes.” Amusement twinkled in her, resplendent.
“Is that so?” This wasn’t about her getting her way, or him doing as she asked. Emotion struck him hard enough to buckle his knees and drive pain through the center of him. She cared about him. Fondness gleamed in those amazing blue depths. Genuine affection telegraphed from her heart to his as she caught hold of his hand and gave one gentle squeeze.
Please, she asked silently with that touch. She didn’t want him getting cold tonight. Her sincere caring meant so much to him the force of it blew like an avalanche barreling down a mountainside, obliterating everything in its path. Gone were his doubts and every reason why he had to hold on tight to his feelings. All that remained was the surge of his affection for her, blindingly strong and pure, the truest thing he’d ever known.
He nodded, just once, all he could manage. Spellbound, his gaze slid to her mouth. Rosebud red, satin smooth, flawless. He’d never wanted to kiss anyone more. He didn’t dare search her eyes to see if she felt the same. He could not turn down a plea for a kiss, if it was there. He could love her, if he let himself.
Love her? What do you think you’re doing, McGraw? He had no business getting close to her. None at all. Best to wrestle down his attraction because nothing could come of it.
“It’s getting late.” The words sounded torn out of him.
“Yes. I should leave you.” Her words came as equally ragged, full of want and regret. Her shoes knelled against the floorboards like the blows of destiny keeping them apart. “Good night, Caleb.”
“Good night.” He watched her open her bedroom door, step into the darkness and disappear from his sight. But from this night forth never from his dreams.
Chapter Five
Why couldn’t she stop thinking about him? Caroline braided her hair in the lantern light, her bedroom curtains closed tight against the predawn darkness. The sun hadn’t yet risen, but it was Monday morning and she had a job to keep. She ought to be thinking about her responsibilities and getting both her and Thomas out of the house on time. But where did her thoughts go?
Right back to last night. To Caleb. Even thinking his name made the flutters of longing strengthen within her. His hold on her heart remained. He’d been the last thing on her mind before falling asleep and the first thing upon awakening. Images had haunted her dreams—of him sitting in the firelight, masculine and easy on the eyes, carving away on Thomas’s toy.
I’ve lost far too much to ever risk romance again. She stared in the mirror, tying the end of her braid with a string. Her reflection revealed dark shadows beneath her eyes, evidence she’d been more troubled by her dreams than she wanted to admit. The truth was, Caleb may have thought about kissing her, but he hadn’t. She kept going over the moment, which meant she wished he had.
What was wrong with her? She shook her head, pinned up her braid and blew out her lamp. A thin ray of light snuck around the door frame, guiding her through the small room and reminding her of the man she couldn’t get out of her mind.
She opened the door and there he was, flesh and blood and all man crouched in her kitchen adding wood to the cook stove. The quilts were stacked neatly on the couch, the pillow on top.
“Good morning. The stove’s ready and the kitchen is warm.” He unfolded his muscled frame, rising to his six foot plus height, dominating the room with his impressive force. The kind regard gleaming in his blue irises added spark to the longing inside her.
I’m just lonely, she told herself, determined to deny the truth of her attraction to him. It would be sensible to ignore it. “Looks like you’ve been busy. It’s a luxury to come out here in the warmth. Usually my teeth are chattering about now as I’m lighting the fire.”
“I wanted to be sure and earn those pancakes you promised.” Humor transformed the craggy planes of his rugged face into stunning magnificence.
It was hard to turn away but she did it and tapped her knuckles on Thomas’s door. She kept her back firmly to the man as if last night hadn’t happened, as if she wasn’t affected. That’s the way it had to be. “Rise and shine, sweet boy.
Good morning.”
“Mornin’.” Thomas blinked. A yawn stretched his mouth. “I dreamed it was snowin’ too hard so I didn’t hafta go to school.”
“Sounds like a good dream to me, but even if school is canceled you still have to get up and come with me. I have to work.” She chose the warmest pair of wool trousers from his chest of drawers. “Do you feel the chill coming through the walls? Hurry up and get dressed and come warm up by the stove.”
The boy nodded, cowlick flapping adorably. She laid his clean clothes on the foot of his bed, woolen socks, long johns, blue flannel shirt. Through the frame of the doorway, she spotted Caleb watching his son from a distance.
Here she’d been so worried about her own feelings she hadn’t stopped to consider his. What must he be going through? The anguish he tried to disguise on his honest face tormented her. He loved his son. Deeply, undeniably, he stood with feet braced, shoulders squared, hands fisted. A steadfast man yearning after what he did not have.
“I got the coffee started and brought some things up from the cellar.” He looked uncomfortable as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Eggs, milk, bacon. Anything else you need?”
“No.” She focused on the morning’s work, made easier because of him. “I’ll whip up those pancakes as promised. Were you warm enough last night?”
“I slept better than I have in years.”
“I’m glad. That must mean you feel at home with us.” She skirted by him, watching the toes of her shoes with determined interest. “That’s how you should feel. Because of Thomas.”
She wanted to make that clear. He would always be welcome in her home, for the boy’s sake. That’s all it could ever be.
The yearning remained on his face as Thomas’s bedroom door swung open and he trooped into sight. Hair tousled, collar twisted and sticking straight up, sleepy-eyed. She ached simply watching the man and the wish stark on his face. She lifted the fry pans from their shelf.
Thomas stopped in front of the captain’s chair next to the hearth. His droopy eyes snapped open.
“It’s your horse.” Caleb cleared his throat, watching the boy’s reaction. “Your aunt Caroline said you wouldn’t mind if I whittled it down to make a real horse shape.”
“Oh!” He snatched up the piece of wood. Smoothly cut, mane and tail flying, fast hooves prancing. “Bingo looks like a real mustang now.”
“That was the idea. I guess you don’t mind?”
“Oh, thank you, Mr. McGraw.” The boy clutched the horse to his heart. A full smile marched across his button face.
Fatherly devotion hobbled him more completely than any ball and chain. “Glad you like him, Thomas.”
“I sure do!” The boy ran his fingers over the horse’s carved nose and etched lips. Delight shone off him, chasing away the darkness, changing everything.
His son no longer stared at him with fear.
“Aunt Caroline, can I bring Bingo to the table?”
“No, but you can play with him until we eat. After you wash up.” Her lighthearted manner made Thomas grin as she measured flour into a mixing bowl. “The faster you wash, the more time you’ll have to play with your new and improved Bingo.”
“Okay.” The boy set the mustang on the arm of the chair and dashed over to splash in the washstand in the corner of the kitchen. In the small mirror hanging above the basin, Caleb could see Thomas’s face. Apple cheeks, blue eyes, nut-brown hair standing up at all angles.
It was going to be hard to leave today. Could be the hardest thing he’d ever done.
“What exactly are you doing, Mr. McGraw?” Caroline gave him a schoolmarm look that she couldn’t quite pull off. Good humor curved up the corners of her lush, kissable mouth.
Far too kissable. Blood thumped through his veins as he finished dealing out three plates on the crisp gingham cloth. “I’m setting the table.”
“Yes, I see that.” She gave the batter a good churn with a wooden spoon. “What I’m wondering is why.”
“Maybe I just really want those pancakes you’re making.” He pulled open the sideboard drawer and counted out flatware. “Besides, I can’t stand around doing nothing while you work.”
“What about your horse? He might like breakfast.”
“Already fed him and Kringle, too.” He liked the arch of surprise and the look of approval she gave him. He doled out place settings of knives, forks and spoons. “I’m used to getting up early.”
“This is early.”
“Earlier than this.” The past lurked unspoken, something he could not escape. Morning came quick in a hard labor prison, the call to rise sounded at 4:00 a.m. Remembering pulled the brightness from the lamp and the warmth from the room. He breathed in the aroma of bacon sizzling and coffee boiling. Things he’d missed on the inside, things he was grateful for now.
“I’m all done.” Thomas hung up the hand towel, hair brushed, face scrubbed, smile shining. “What’s your horse like? Is he a mustang like Bingo?”
“He sure is, but he’s white instead of brown.” He knelt down so he wasn’t towering over the boy. Nearly eye-level, he gave his friendliest grin. “You can see him after breakfast. I may as well ride to town with you and your aunt. Make sure you get there in this storm.”
“Okay.” Thomas considered that. “Mustangs are my favorite.”
“Mine, too.” His throat closed up as the boy bounded away. Caleb soaked in every detail he could. The cowlick sticking up, the cut of those little-boy shoulders, the loping gait, all so dear to him.
“How are you going to ride away from him?” Caroline asked as she spooned batter into a pan.
“I don’t know.” He couldn’t look away from the child. Down on all fours, Thomas galloped Bingo across the green rug meadow, making horses sounds that echoed against the bare walls. “Just like anything else I don’t want to do, I suppose. Grit my teeth and do it.”
“I couldn’t.” She forked bacon slices onto a platter. How could she admit the thought of him leaving was beginning to really hurt? “I can’t imagine how you must be feeling.”
“Me? I’m not what matters here.” He straightened his spine, drawing up to his full height, shrinking the walls and stealing all the oxygen from the air.
Honestly, she wasn’t ready to let go of him. She wasn’t sure he would be better off somewhere else. She flipped the pancakes onto a plate and spooned out more batter. “I know how hard it can be to find a job. It took me months to find a good situation and I had to move twenty miles.”
“I expect it won’t be any easier for me.” A muscle jumped in his jaw, betraying his deeper feelings.
“If my son were alive and I had to leave him, it would tear me apart.” She understood exactly how much Caleb had to be suffering. “What will you do, keep drifting from town to town?”
“If that’s what it takes to find a job. I meant what I said last night. I’ll do my part for him. I can see that you’re struggling, and that isn’t right. I don’t mind hard work, especially when it’s for someone I love.”
Her heart twisted. She’d lost more than she could bear already. So why did it feel as if her soul secretly yearned to be the one he loved? It made no sense. She cracked an egg on the rim of the fry pan. “Christmas is coming up fast.”
“I know. Just, what, a week away? I’ve lost count.”
“Three days.”
“Then it’s almost here. I haven’t celebrated it in a lot of years. I had no cause to.”
“Why?”
“I was alone.” Despair wreathed his face in harsh, unhappy lines, digging crevices into the corners of his eyes and brackets around his mouth. It kept her from asking why.
“You’re not alone now. Why don’t you stay for Christmas?”
“That’s not in my plans.” He might be shaking his head slowly from side to side, determined to stick to his decision, but she saw the ache in him, the need to be near his son a little longer.
“Plans can change. Maybe he needs you to
stay.”
“No, he doesn’t need me.” His throat worked. His jaw tensed. His hand curled over a chair back, his knuckles white.
“See how happy you made him with the horse?” She flipped something sizzling in the fry pan, a lovely sight. Blue wool, hair done up like a coronet on her head, ivory sweetness. Heat ebbed through him in slow measured beats.
If he stayed, then he could see her, too.
“It’s his first Christmas without his mother. His great-grandmother is too frail to travel.” She added more pancakes to the growing stack beside the stove. “I had worried it would be a sad holiday. With you, it would be better.”
What he wanted and what he ought to do were different things. Sure, he wanted to stay for good. The territorial prison was a stop on the train line, not more than a hundred miles from here. Anyone released from jail—someone who might know him—could hop aboard a freight car and go anywhere. Even here. This wasn’t far enough away to keep his past buried.
“It’s just a few days.” Caroline reached out, closing the distance between them with a touch. Warm fingers, caring heart, and the click he felt in his soul could only mean one thing. It would be a disaster to stay.
“For Thomas. Just for a few days.” He was powerless to say no to her. The hint of dimples and the allure of her unspoken affection made him want a lot more from her than he could ever accept.
“Wonderful.” The way she looked at him with respect and happiness left him speechless. His gaze drifted to her rosebud lips. What would it be like to kiss her?
“Oh, the pancakes!” Laughing at her forgetfulness, she pulled away to grab up her spatula.
Little did she know she still had hold of his soul.
“Who was that fine specimen of a man I saw ride up with you? Is he single?” Selma McKaslin asked in the back entrance hall of the town’s bakery. “That wouldn’t be the stranger who nabbed that terrible horse thief, the one who is tucked away in our jail?”
“His name is Caleb McGraw and you would be wrong to jump to conclusions.” Caroline hung up her coat and knelt to help Thomas with his. Leave it to her employer, the optimist, to see romance where there could be none. “He’s staying a few days with us. He has no place to go for Christmas.”
