His Substitute Wife. Dorothy Clark
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Название: His Substitute Wife
Автор: Dorothy Clark
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Вестерны
isbn: 9781474065207
isbn:
Her stomach sank. Did he think she was overreaching her position in their arrangement? “But the store...”
“I have no customers demanding my time. Won’t have, until I’m able to put up that sign.” He glanced around the room. “Where do you want me to put the dresser once I get it in here?”
“I thought on the back wall next to that door, but you—”
“That’s as good a place as any. I’ll be back.”
And she’d be gone! She wasn’t going to stand here and watch him do the work she’d started. “Before you go...”
“Yes?”
“I was wondering about dinner.” Would he eat anything, or was this another mistake? She squared her shoulders and pressed on. How could things get worse? “I saw packages of meat in the refrigerator. Would roasted beef suit?”
He nodded and looked away. “Roasted beef is fine.”
His taut features said he was only being polite. Probably he had as little appetite as she. Still, they had to eat—and she needed something to do. “Then, I’ll go start dinner.” At least she wouldn’t make any mistakes while—
“Can you manage the fire?”
The question rasped along her already frayed nerves. She jerked to a stop and spun about to face him. “I have been doing the cooking, tending the house and caring for my family ever since my mother died four years ago, when I was sixteen. Of course I can manage a fire. And I can do anything else I set my mind to as well—including moving that dresser!”
She snatched at a strand of hair tickling her neck, jammed it back into the loosened figure eight twist at her nape and jutted her chin into the air. “I may have stumbled with that drawer, Blake Latherop, but that’s because you startled me! I am not incompetent. Or clumsy!” Tears stung her eyes. She whirled and headed for the hallway, her skirts swishing.
“Whoa, wait a minute!” Blake’s hand clasped onto her wrist, drawing her to a halt.
She stiffened and blinked to clear her vision, swallowed hard when he grasped her shoulders and turned her around to face him.
“I meant nothing disparaging by my question, Audrey. It was not a comment on your capabilities, only a statement of my ignorance of them. I can’t know if you can manage a fire, any more than you can know if I like roasted beef. We have a lot to learn about each other.”
She drew a breath and nodded, shamed by her outburst. “You’re right, of course.” She pulled her lips into a rueful smile. “I guess you’ve just learned that I can be a little...overly sensitive at times. Though I try not to be.” His lips twitched, slanting into that grin he used to give her when they were friends. Her stomach fluttered. She lowered her gaze from his face, sought for something to say to dispel the odd feeling. “Father said it comes from my having red hair.”
He let go of her shoulders and peered down at her. “I thought it was red hair and a temper that went hand in hand.”
She crinkled her nose and headed for the kitchen, her shoulders warm from his hands. “I’m afraid I also have one of those—on occasion.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” His teasing tone took any possible insult from the words. He walked with her as far as the door, paused there with his hand braced on the jamb. “If there is anything you need and can’t find, come and tell me. I’ll get it from the store.”
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