If John left, he wouldn't know what was going on. Wouldn't know what Torres told everyone. Would they still look at him the same when he returned?
If the weather held, he could take Cecilia home and turn right back around. It would mean a lot of driving tomorrow and again on Sunday, but maybe he could mitigate whatever damage Torres intended if he came home in between.
Cecilia gave in with bad grace. “Fine. Thank you,” she added stiffly.
He nodded.
Cecilia swept past him and up the stairs.
He moved to the window, looking out into the darkness. Where was Torres? Was John doing the right thing by leaving?
Mrs. Fitzgerald kept knitting, her needles clicking softly. “You scare her,” the older woman said quietly.
“What?” He turned to face her.
“Cecilia. You frighten her. Or rather, her feelings for you frighten her.”
He worked to keep his face impassive. “She doesn’t have feelings for me.”
Mrs. Fitzgerald raised her eyes and gave John a look that told him just what she thought about his statement. “She doesn’t want to,” the older woman said. “Whatever happened in her past makes her gun-shy. You’ll have to tread softly.”
John rubbed the back of his neck again. “I’m not sure I should.”
Before Torres had arrived, he’d thought he’d outrun his past. He’d been naive. Of course it wouldn’t be so simple to walk away from what he and his parents had been involved with.
And he didn’t want any part of his past to touch Cecilia.
12
The predawn air was bitter as John urged the horses pulling their sleigh out of town. A thin layer of snow had fallen and frozen, and the sleigh runners crunched over the sheet of ice. The sky was slate gray and threatened to dump more precipitation. He prayed it would hold off.
He and Cecilia had bundled up in coats and scarves and mittens and blankets, but the chilled air still threatened to freeze the exposed skin of his face.
He had wrestled with the decision to accompany Cecilia all night long and still wasn't sure this was the right choice, but he'd made a commitment to her, and he wouldn't back out. Plus, Torres had given him no real reason to suspect he was up to anything since he had come to town. Was it possible that someone his father's age could change his ways?
He had to stop thinking about it. And since Cecilia was the only thing that could keep him distracted, he needed to draw her into conversation.
"Will I get to meet your family when we arrive? Or will you jump out of the sleigh before we stop?”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” she said primly.
“So I can meet them?”
"I suppose. I’m certain my sisters will want to meet you."
He glanced at her, waggling his eyebrows. "Because you've written to them and told them how handsome I am?"
She snorted softly. "Because they're nosy busybodies."
Her cheeks were a little rosy above the scarf she had tucked around her face. Maybe it was just from the cold, but he didn't think so. "So, you did write home about me?"
She kept her face turned away, hiding from him. "You're my boss. I would be remiss if I never mentioned you."
"What is your father like?"
"Why are you so interested in my family?"
He shrugged. "You're very secretive about them. I can't help my curiosity.”
Now her eyes shot daggers at him. "I'm not secretive."
He raised his brows. "You never talk about them with me," he said. He figured that proved his point.
"There's no reason for me to share personal details about my life with you."
Her voice had softened. As if she didn't totally believe what she was saying.
"I think there is. You've got it in your head that we shouldn't be friends, but I disagree."
She turned to him sharply, a becoming blush pinking what he could see of her cheeks above the scarf. “Is that really what you want? My friendship?”
He knew she was really asking whether he wanted something more. He admired her for her boldness.
Until Torres had come to Granbury, he wouldn’t have hesitated to ask for what he wanted. But now… “The timing is bad,” he admitted.
He squinted and looked at a tall maple several dozen yards away. Its branches were covered in ice, and it glistened like innumerable diamonds.
“Let's talk about something else,” he said. “Like your family."
He was teasing, but her response was quick.
"Why don't we talk about yours? Ruth mentioned something about you the other day."
He couldn't help the smug smile that emerged. "So you've been asking about me?"
She huffed her exasperation. "No. I believe she was trying to get me riled up."
He grinned to himself, his gaze over the horse’s ears. "Why would talking about me get you riled up?"
She made a soft noise in her throat that sounded suspiciously like a growl. His grin grew. He couldn't seem to help himself.
When it seemed like she wasn't going to speak again, he prodded her. "What did she say?"
"It was something about your past."
His good humor dimmed. He’d cautioned Ruth over and over about how important it was to keep their past a secret. He knew she'd been unhappy about her schooling and Cecilia’s tutoring. Would she have spilled his secrets to turn Cecilia against him?
"Your romantic past," Cecilia continued.
Relief soared, but he didn't allow it to show on his face. "I don't have a romantic past."
He stole a glance at her. She was gazing at the horizon, though it was clear when her eyes narrowed. No doubt her scarf hid a severe frown.
"Was she trying to make you jealous or something?"
Cecilia shook her head tightly. "It's nothing. She was reacting to the punishment I had given her."
"There's never been anyone special for me." Not until now, but he wasn't about to tell her that.
He'd known his share of pretty young women, starting from the time he’d been a teenager. But his family moved around so much that keeping friendships was impossible. More than that, though, the nature of how his parents made a living made a romantic connection with anyone impossible.
He’d never thought he was missing anything.
And even though he shouldn’t, he wanted her to know.
"I've never met anyone who captured me until a few weeks ago.”
If he wasn’t mistaken, her breath caught.
He went on. “You may know her. She's independent and a little prickly, but I think she's like a cactus. Sharp on the outside to protect what's underneath."
"This is inappropriate," she mumbled.
And maybe he was his father’s son, because her continued resistance made him want what wasn’t rightly his—her regard. He could feel his father’s charm bubbling up inside him, determined to have just one real smile from her.
"I know you like looking at me," he said. "I've caught you at it before."
"You have a high opinion of yourself," she snapped.
"I notice you're not disagreeing. It’s all right. I like looking at you, too."
She made a sound of frustration.
She was so stubborn.
And no matter how much he wanted her smile, her attention, her regard… he couldn’t keep going. Not when his past was hanging over his head like an old-fashioned guillotine.
"I'll stop now,” he said.
They traveled on for a time without speaking. Their breath puffed out in front of them. He was getting nervous about the clouds boiling on the horizon. They’d gone across the countryside because it was a shorter route, but that meant they were further from the nearest town. If they got caught in a snowstorm, it could be dangerous.
She gave him a sideways glance. One that he couldn't read, which never happened.
"I do have some questions for you,” she said.
“Fine.” Her questions woul
d keep him alert.
"Several folks in town have told me how you helped them out financially when you first arrived. And you built the sawmill. Where did you get that kind of money?"
He had to work to keep a blank expression on his face. Of all the things she might've asked, he hadn't expected that. When he’d made the investments, he had asked each family to keep quiet. He hadn't wanted to influence the people who he’d hoped would eventually become his friends.
He’d honestly wanted to help. He should have known that, in the small town, the secret wouldn't last forever.
He hadn’t known how to return the money his pa had stolen. He’d hoped that helping out folks who desperately needed it would be a way of paying back the yawning debt.
He couldn’t tell her that. And he didn’t want to lie.
Silence stretched between them.
"Ask me anything but that," he said finally.
He felt the weight of her stare and guessed she was not happy with that answer. His instincts screamed at him that she could never know about his past. She was as straight-laced as they came, a stickler for rules and propriety. If she knew about the things he’d done, she would look at him with disgust.
He hadn't let himself dwell on it before. He liked her, and he knew she was attracted to him.
Everyone in Granbury judged him for who he was now. Why hadn't he realized it would be different with Cecilia?
Snow was falling as Susie rode horseback into Bear Creek. It was a white curtain all around her, a blizzard threatening.
It probably was too dangerous for her to have come to town. But she’d been desperate…
For the past several weeks, she’d made a pretense of working for Maxwell and Hattie at the clinic. Oh, she worked. She scrubbed exam rooms and stocked supplies and swept out the waiting room.
She just didn’t work as many hours as she’d led Mama to believe.
Mama had been pleased that Susie was showing an interest in nursing.
She would be furious if she knew that Susie was sneaking time to spend with Roy.
And she didn’t intend to miss her chance to see him today because of a little snow.
Except snow swirled around her, so much that she could barely see across the street to the other buildings as she approached the clinic.
It was closed. There was a note on the door that directed anyone with a true emergency to find one of the two doctors at their home on the edge of town.
Which meant that Susie wouldn't be needed.
Mama would expect her to hole up with Maxwell and Hattie at their home. But the two doctors didn't know she had come to town. Surely they would assume that she had stayed on the homestead because of the storm. The blinding snow meant it wouldn't be safe to ride home.
Maxwell and Hattie wouldn’t know what time she’d arrived in town. She could spend several hours with Roy before going to their house. Neither her uncle or Mama would be the wiser.
Excitement thrilled through her at the unexpected freedom.
She boarded her horse at the livery and then made her way down the empty boardwalk toward the hotel.
It was far too early for Roy to be awake. They had seen each other several times, and she knew he earned his living by gambling. He was often in the saloon late into the night. It made sense that he would need to sleep later in the mornings.
But surely he wouldn't mind if she woke him. This secret time together was not to be squandered.
She thought of last week, when the weather had been mild and they had taken a long walk out of town. They’d shared kisses—so many kisses—in a copse of trees just off the road. It had been their own secret retreat.
Her heart pounded just thinking about it. She wanted—needed—to see him again.
He had told her about the staircase in the alley behind the hotel. It was likely meant for hotel employees, but since she didn’t want to walk through the lobby where anyone might see her, she used them.
Once she was inside the second-floor landing and out of the blowing wind, silence descended. She could hear dishes rattling in the dining room downstairs. Perhaps some folks from out of town had gotten caught out in the storm and taken refuge in the hotel.
Mama would have a conniption if she ever found out that Susie had come to see a man in his hotel room. Which meant she could never be found out. She moved swiftly and silently down the hallway to knock on Roy’s door. He’d told her which room he was staying in last week.
She had to knock again, more loudly, before she heard movement from inside.
The door was wrenched open, and he squinted angrily out into the shadowed hallway before his eyes rested on her. He wore an undershirt that had been hastily tucked into his trousers. His feet were bare.
When he saw her, he relaxed. His eyes were bloodshot, and he squinted against the light. He laid aside a pistol she hadn't even known he was holding on a table beside the door.
"It's early. What are you doing here?"
He glanced behind himself back into the darkened room, as if he couldn't remember where he was or as if he was looking for something. Then back at her. She knew he must be discombobulated, being woken like this.
"There's a snowstorm. My mama thinks I'm with my aunt and uncle. And they don't know I've come to town."
It took a moment for him to untangle her meaning, and when he did, his eyes sharpened in a way that made her stomach swirl with both uncertainty and delight. He drew her close with one strong arm around her waist, bracing his other hand on the door frame. He kissed her passionately. She could forgive the traces of alcohol still on his breath. He had told her that it was necessary to have a drink while he worked, that the men he played cards with expected it.
She loved his kisses. They were like a drug, muting the voice of good sense—one that sounded suspiciously like her sister Cecilia—in her mind.
But she realized that they were still in the doorway, where anyone who walked by could see them.
He wasn't dressed.
And she wasn't supposed to be here.
She turned her face, breaking the kiss. But he had backed her up against the doorjamb. And she was breathing hard, trembling. Her knees felt too weak to support her.
She didn't try to escape his embrace. "I thought perhaps we could have breakfast in the dining room. Or maybe take another walk…"
He pressed his face into her neck, kissing the juncture where her neck met her shoulder. His hand was hot and possessive on her back.
He had never taken a liberty like that before, and while she thrilled at his touch, the unexpectedness of it made her jump.
"Did you say there was a snowstorm?" His words were a hot breath on her skin, and she nodded shakily. "Then there will be no walking today.” He pressed a kiss on the underside of her jaw. "I can have the clerk send breakfast up to my room."
Come in. His invitation was implied, but she understood him immediately.
It was inappropriate. If her mother ever found out, she would be furious. Cecilia would wear that judgmental look that Susie hated.
Roy was the only one who understood her. She’d told him about her family’s expectations and how she wanted to someday live in a big city. He’d listened and he made her feel like no one else ever had. Maybe it was partly the secrecy of their relationship, but she was desperately in love with him.
He raised his head and covered her lips with his again.
The first time he’d kissed her, she hadn't been prepared for the intimacy of it, the intensity of it.
He didn't kiss like either of the two country boys she had kissed before.
No, he plundered her mouth, and at that moment she couldn’t help but succumb to the passion in his kiss.
He drew back slightly, his eyes burning. "I'll be disappointed if you don't come in."
His words reminded her of something Cecilia would say. Disappointed. And while she absolutely hated it when her sister judged the choices Susie made, she wanted Roy to be pleased with her.
> "Maybe… just for a little while."
She stepped into the room. There was something triumphant in his smile as he closed and locked the door behind her.
It had started snowing hours before, and Cecilia couldn’t seem to stop shivering.
The snow insulated them from sounds, the only noise the swishing of the sleigh runners against the ground and the soft thud of the horse’s hooves. The complete silence somehow made the tension between them larger.
He was still seething about the question she had asked. Ask me anything but that. After everything he’d said to her during the morning, she hadn't thought her question impertinent.
But she could read the frown he wore even beneath his scarf and the hat pulled low. John rarely frowned. He was always in good humor.
What was he hiding?
And did she have some responsibility to the people of Granbury to find out? She’d loved the children from her first day in the classroom. The friendships she was making with their parents felt new and unformed. Everyone in Granbury loved John. What would they do if Cecilia started asking difficult questions?
Not to mention that her feelings for the man were all a muddle.
What should she do?
After a while, things started to go fuzzy as she fought to stay awake. She was about to nod off when John shook her shoulder roughly.
"What," she snapped, batting his hand away.
"Don't fall asleep," he ordered.
She opened her mouth to tell him off, even if he was her boss.
"It's too cold," he said. "You’ll get hypothermia."
She should argue with him. She did not have hypothermia. But she felt so sluggish.
She was barely aware of it as he reined in the horse. He threw off her blankets, and cold rushed in, rousing her. He hauled her out of the sleigh, and she stumbled when her boots sank into snow that reached her ankles. He caught her with his hands at her waist.
"Walk around. Swing your arms, get some blood flowing."
She glared up at him. Or maybe it was more of a blink. She couldn’t be sure. "I know what to do."
Winning the Schoolmarm: Wyoming Legacy (Wind River Hearts Book 14) Page 10
