Loathe as she was to admit it, he was right. But her brain was as sluggish as her limbs, and she couldn't seem to stop looking up at him and get moving.
There was snow matted in his eyelashes, more caught in the folds of his scarf. His eyes were hooded.
When she didn't move away, he tugged her a half step closer so they were nearly touching. "I've got another way to warm you up."
He tugged down his scarf, and hers had fallen loose as she had been untangled from the blankets. He lowered his head and took her lips with his. His kiss was so unexpected that it was several moments before she realized what was happening.
His lips were cool and firm. The tip of his nose pressed into her cheek. Her eyes fell closed of their own accord as butterflies took flight in her stomach, swirling around in dizzy confusion.
She did feel warmer. Blood positively raced through her veins.
She knew there was a reason his kiss was a bad idea, but the heat flushing her face and the sensation of his lips brushing against hers felt so good. She couldn't remember—
And then it hit her as if she’d been smacked in the face with a snowball.
He was her boss. He was keeping secrets.
And she’d been fired for less.
Her hands rested on his shoulders, and she pushed him away, falling back a half-step.
His lips were pink. His eyes glinted with purpose.
She couldn't seem to stop looking at him. So she closed her eyes. And then shook her head over and over again.
They shouldn't have done that.
She shouldn't have allowed it.
Her thoughts swirled in crazy circles, like the snowflakes eddying around them now.
"Either you start moving, or I'll kiss you again."
As threats went, it was a weak one. Mostly because she wanted the punishment.
Her stomach dipped as she imagined going into his arms of her own free will. But now that she had her wits about her, she couldn't do it.
She turned and stomped through the snow, swinging her arms in circles and then back-and-forth across her body. She tucked her scarf back around her face, covering everything except her eyes. The snow seemed to have worsened, and she couldn't recognize any of the landscape around them.
"Are we lost?" she asked, stomping her way back to where John was checking on the horse.
"I figure we're about another hour from your parents’ place. I think the Lord is watching over us. Every once in a while, the sun breaks through the clouds so I can get my bearings."
One more hour. Another hour of sitting close to him in the sleigh.
He’d also tucked the scarf around his face again. His eyes were warm with concern, his earlier tension forgotten. “You warm enough now?"
She was afraid he was asking whether she needed another kiss, and she made for the sled. "I'm awake."
The sleigh shifted as he got in beside her. This time, he motioned her closer before he reached for the blankets. “If we're going to stay warm, we’ll have to be close."
He must've known she would protest, because he quickly said, "I was getting sleepy too. We've both got to keep our wits about us if we are going to make it. Now slide over here."
She knew he was right. She did as he said and helped tuck the blankets around them.
"I promise not to take advantage," he said, the words muffled through his scarf.
It was slightly warmer, being tucked close into his side. There were layers between them, she rationalized. They touched from shoulder to hip to knee, but surely anyone with any intelligence would understand that they were trying to survive.
"I can't very well deliver a block of ice to your family."
She rolled her eyes, and he must've sensed it, because he chuckled.
"I was thinking we should sing. It'll pass the time and keep us awake."
She wrinkled her nose. During one of their tutoring sessions, she’d attempted to teach John and Ruth a rhyming song about the color yellow. They had both had a laugh at her expense because she couldn’t carry a tune.
He must be desperate to suggest singing.
"Or we could always keep warm another way," he said with a suggestive wink.
She immediately began singing one of the hymns they’d sung last Sunday morning during worship.
She felt his shoulder vibrate. Maybe he was chuckling. But for once she didn't care that he was laughing at her expense. And when his rich voice joined hers, she almost didn't hear the notes that she missed.
13
They should've arrived at Cecilia’s home by now.
The storm had worsened, and the longer they’d traveled, the more worried John had become.
Had he made a wrong turn somewhere?
Ever since they’d stopped to move around and get some blood flowing, he’d been praying mightily for them to make it safely.
Now the storm waned, the snow falling a bit less thickly. Visibility improved, and he caught sight of a structure in the distance.
They would've passed it if the snow hadn’t lifted at just that moment. He didn't know whether it was one of the buildings on Cecilia’s family’s property, but whether it was or not, they couldn't keep going, not in blizzard conditions like this. Right now he’d settle for a shack with a fireplace and a supply of wood.
He turned the horse that direction. By the time they had reached what turned out to be a snug log cabin, the snow had started swirling and thickening once again.
"This is it. We made it." Her voice rose in wonder.
This was her home?
She was quick to untangle herself from the blankets. He did the same, moving to the horse’s head. The animal had been the true hero of the day, pushing through the arduous journey.
The door opened and a rectangle of light extended into the midday storm-darkness.
There was a babble of voices he couldn't make out, and a moment later, a man joined him near the horse. The man was so bundled up that John couldn’t make out any features, only a formless shape.
"Oscar White. Cecilia's father. I'll unhitch and take your horse to the barn. You must be frozen through."
John couldn’t stop his teeth from chattering long enough to argue. He left the man to unhitch the horse and moved almost as if he were sleepwalking toward the door of the home. It opened before he reached it, and someone pulled him inside and then snapped it shut again.
He stood there for a moment, blinking against the warm light inside. He could smell coffee and some kind of homemade bread. There was a fire crackling in the stove, and he could've almost cried from relief.
Cecilia had already shed her coat and boots and was standing near the stove in her stockings. He realized he had to be dripping all over their floor as the snow melted off of him. He was quick to take off his coat and mittens and scarf. He fumbled with his boots with half frozen fingers, but he finally struggled out of them.
"John, this is my mother Sarah and my sister Velma.”
He nodded to Cecilia’s mother, who was fair and blond, and her sister, a willowy preteen who had the same dark hair as Cecilia.
A boy slightly younger than Ruth and two young girls peeked their heads over the sofa back as John crossed the room to stand near Cecilia at the stove.
"I'm Leo,” the boy piped up. “My sisters are Julia and Laura. Julia’s five and Laura’s three.”
John nodded to them too. "Nice to meet you."
His skin prickled as it came back to life in the heat of the stove, the warmth almost painful.
Cecilia's mother pressed a mug of coffee into his hands. "This will help."
"Thank you."
He hadn't thought past their arrival. Once the blizzard had gotten so nasty, getting them to safety had been his only thought.
When he’d left, he had planned to return to Granbury and watch Torres. But right now he couldn't imagine going back out into the cold.
A few minutes later, Cecilia's father pushed back through the door. He took off his hat, and a showe
r of snowflakes hit the floor. "It's really coming down out there."
He looked at John. "I don't know what you were planning, but it would be awful dangerous to go back out in that."
Cecilia inhaled softly. "You don't mean to leave, do you?"
He shook his head. "If your mother doesn't mind, I'll stay a few hours and see if the storm lessens." That meant he wouldn’t make it back to Granbury until very late.
Cecilia couldn’t hide the concern in her eyes as she gazed at him.
And the part of him that hadn’t been able to resist kissing her earlier was overjoyed that she was worried about him.
As if she sensed his thoughts, her eyes narrowed slightly.
Which only made him grin.
"You must stay," Sarah said. "Stay as long as you need."
He was grateful for her family's hospitality and the warmth that was reviving him now. “Thank you.”
The three smaller children chattered and whispered on the sofa, their words muffled by distance and the sofa back.
“Where’s Susie?” Cecilia asked.
“She’s been helping your uncle at the clinic two days a week. She went into town before the blizzard started. No doubt she’s holed up with Maxwell and Hattie.”
Was it his imagination, or did Cecilia look slightly relieved? Why? Wouldn’t she want to see her sister?
Velma sidled up to her older sister. "Did you bring me anything?"
"What do you think? It isn't as if your birthday is coming up."
Velma wrinkled her nose, and Cecilia laughed.
He was entranced. He’d never heard her laugh like that, the sound soft and pure. He wanted to hear it again.
“Velma, let your sister get warmed up,” Sarah said. “You can harangue her for your gift later."
"I'm feeling better already." Cecilia shot a sideways glance at him. "John made a forced stop so we could get out of the sleigh and walk around to keep warm."
He was never going to forget the kiss they’d shared. He'd been lucky that she hadn't punched him, as prickly as she could be. Right now, he thought he saw a warmth in her eyes that hadn’t been there before.
Would she mind if he kissed her again?
He couldn’t begin to guess what his expression showed, but she averted her eyes and crossed the room to the carpetbag she’d left in the doorway.
He turned so the stove could heat up his other side. He could still watch her as she opened the bag. Velma remained near the sofa, but her younger siblings jumped up off the couch and surrounded Cecilia.
“What did you bring me?" Julia asked.
"Me first," the littlest one said.
Cecilia touched each of their heads before she handed the boy a small paper sack, one that John guessed was probably filled with candy. He began sharing with Laura and Julia.
"This is better than Christmas!" Leo crowed.
Sarah looked on with a smile.
Then Cecilia watched her sister unfold the brown paper from a pair of kid leather gloves. Velma squeaked as she touched them softly. She threw her arms around Cecilia.
He liked seeing Cecilia like this. She was kind to her students, but this warmth that she reserved for her family was special. It was obvious they loved her well and she loved them in return. She was comfortable here.
He watched the toddler, Laura, offer Cecilia a candy. He knew how sticky a little kid could get, but Cecilia popped the candy in her mouth. Laura clapped in delight.
"We've been waiting for you to get home so you could read us more of the book you started this summer," the boy said.
Cecilia looked surprised. "I thought Mama would read it with you."
He shook his head adamantly. "That's your book, sissy."
John found himself in the way as Sarah and Velma went into the kitchen to prepare the noon meal. The hearty soup smelled delicious, and he moved into the sitting room and perched on the couch, content to listen to Cecilia read to her younger siblings.
She looked up once and caught him staring. When he smiled, she blushed and turned her face to the book again.
And he caught her father’s glance from across the room. The older man seemed contemplative, and John felt a stirring of uncertainty.
If Cecilia had questioned John's past, her father might do so as well. And what was John going to say? The truth?
How could he? If the folks in Granbury discovered his true identity, they’d never trust him again.
Cecilia spent the afternoon watching John charm her family. He had shared with them about her tutoring, his tone self-deprecating when he explained that he had never been in school and never learned to read. When Sarah made soft murmurs about what his past must’ve been like, he deftly steered the conversation away, telling the kids about the silly memorization song Cecilia had taught Ruth.
When Velma mentioned that Cecilia couldn't carry a tune, he winked and said, "I know."
Was she the only one who noticed his redirection?
He had also conveniently left out her problems with Ruth. There was no mention of the poison ivy or the black eye, which Cecilia now guessed had been on purpose. She still hadn’t mentioned the mouse to him.
He kept heaping praise on her, mentioning compliments he’d received from her students’ parents.
Mama beamed with pride, but Papa kept a watchful gaze.
The snowstorm showed no sign of abating, and Mama insisted he stay the night. Papa had suggested the bunkhouse, but Sarah thought it would be too cold. John would be the only one there, and the building hadn’t been heated all day. Mama argued that the bunkhouse wasn’t hospitable enough.
Papa was talked into letting John bunk with Leo, but he didn’t seem happy about it.
After supper, her younger siblings insisted on another chapter of the book she’d read earlier. Meanwhile, John and her father played a game of checkers.
Both Cecilia’s parents disappeared to tuck in the children that evening. Velma also excused herself to her room. No doubt when Cecilia joined her, she would have a hundred questions about John. Cecilia hadn't missed the way her sister had been smitten with the charming businessman.
They were left alone in the parlor, and the same butterflies that had rumbled in her stomach earlier fluttered to life now.
She had been too cold and disoriented in the sleigh to talk about the kiss. But they needed to talk about it. It couldn't happen again.
"I think your father suspects," John said.
Thank goodness he was sitting on the sofa across from where her chair was.
Her face flamed. "What?" she choked out.
Surely Papa couldn't have guessed that she’d kissed John. She’d worked hard all afternoon to present an impassive face.
"That I fancy you," John said evenly.
She glanced at the hall, but she could hear her parents’ voices, a low murmur in the children's bedroom. She whispered, "Don’t—”
"Don't tell me not to say things like that." He leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees, his hands clasped loosely between them. He looked at her intently, a gaze that made her feel frozen, pinned in place like a bird hypnotized by a predator.
"I know that what happened at your last school made you skittish. But things are different in Granbury.”
She shook her head slightly. How could he be so sure? Her heart seemed to be caught in her throat and she couldn't find words.
“I know there are things we still don’t know about each other. I’m proposing we spend some time together, get to know each other better. We don't have to call it courting. We can just be friends."
She licked her lips nervously. "Can we?"
Something sparked his eyes. "I can if you can."
How could she argue with that? If she told him that she couldn't be friends with him, he would know that she was attracted to him. More than that. She liked him. But if she agreed to spend time with him, she was afraid her admiration would only grow.
“I… don't know."
There
were footsteps in the hall, but she couldn't seem to look away from him as a smile stretched across his lips. "That's better than a no," he said quietly.
Velma appeared in the entryway. "Mama sent me to see if you were coming to bed."
With an inordinate amount of relief, Cecilia stood on shaky legs. She didn't know what she had just agreed to. Had she agreed to anything?
Drat the man for making her so discombobulated. She tried not to look back, she really did, as she followed her sister down the hallway.
But it seemed she couldn't help herself and took one last look over her shoulder.
He was watching her with the intent look that she had come to realize meant he was determined.
Determined to do what?
She had to compose herself before Velma hit her with all her questions. But it was difficult when she still held the memory of John’s kiss so close.
14
The next snowbound morning, Cecilia couldn't seem to tear her attention from John. His flirtations in the sleigh during their crazy ride in the snowstorm had been one thing.
Friends.
Somehow, seeing him interact with her family was making her heart yearn.
She helped her mother bake sticky buns for breakfast. While they worked together and Velma enjoyed a rare morning of sleeping in, Papa went to the big barn to help with morning chores. John went with him, thank heavens, so she could relax for a few minutes.
When the men came back inside, covered head-to-toe with snow, John sent her a searing glance and murmured that he needed to warm up.
She had blushed hot. If he meant to remind her of their kiss, it worked. Too well. A few minutes later, she forced herself not to look at his sleep-tousled head during the meal. Not even when he nudged her foot with his beneath the table.
After breakfast, John insisted on helping Velma wash up. They took turns washing and drying the dishes while she asked him all sorts of questions about building a water wheel and the operations of his sawmill. He was patient and charming throughout.
Then, the little kids decided they wanted to play school. Leo and Julia were trading off turns to be the teacher, and Laura and John were their students. He sat on the floor with Laura on one knee, both of them using the low table in front of the sofa as their school desk.
Winning the Schoolmarm: Wyoming Legacy (Wind River Hearts Book 14) Page 11
