she looked at Jesse. Regardless of him sending away for
a wife, what the boy needed was the loving attention only a mother
could provide and she was determined to give it to him.
It was obvious there
hadn’t been a woman in this house for some time. Jesse had said his
mother had died years ago and she couldn’t imagine any other woman
wanting to be inside the house as she’d found it, which eased one
of her fears. Rafe didn’t have a woman friend. Not one he brought
home, anyway.
She sighed as she thought
of him. She wasn’t sure why she still found him attractive. He was
surly most of the time, that is if he even bothered to speak to her
to begin with. He said nothing of the meals she cooked for him,
nothing as to the state of the house, and didn't even look at her
most days. If she had to guess, she'd say he didn't think much of
her at all, which was odd.
Her life in Boston had
been full of suitors. Men of every age showered her with attention
as they tried to woo her and she'd flirted and complimented them as
she'd been taught to do. None of those things would work on Rafe.
He didn't seem like the type of man who would be swayed by a pretty
woman, regardless of how she acted toward him.
She'd spent days giving
him her best smiles, trying to show him without words how much
seeing him thrilled her and….nothing. The man barely glanced her
way. When he bothered speaking to her, it was curt replies, disdain
dripping from his words to make her think the sight of her angered
him. She was at a loss as to what to do.
The day she met him, his
gaze had lingered on her breasts as he took a slow perusal of her
body. Desire had stained his eyes with heat. The way he’d looked at
her at the stagecoach station had said it all. He’d wanted her. It
may not have been the forever kind of want but he was attracted to
her, just as she was to him.
So why was he so aloof?
Did he have a woman friend after all? Was there a widow somewhere
in Willow Creek who knew what it felt like to have his strong hands
caressing her flesh? She shivered just thinking about
it.
The water had cooled
enough that her shivers weren’t caused by thoughts of Rafe alone
and Grace stood, goose bumps pimpling her skin as the cool air hit
her wet flesh. When she reached for her towel, the back door flew
open. She gasped, turned to see Rafe standing there staring at her
and scrambled for her towel. “Turn around,” she yelled as loudly as
she dared. He raised an eyebrow at her before doing as
asked.
“The kitchen isn’t the
best place for bathing.” He shut the door, removing his coat and
hat, placing them on the pegs in the wall. “Unless you know you
won’t be disturbed.”
Grace stepped out of the
tub, grabbed her gown and threw it on, the back of it soaking
through as it was pulled down over her wet hair. “I thought
everyone was asleep.”
“I normally would be but
Jesse didn’t finish his chores so I had to do them.” He turned his
head a fraction, his eyes averted. “Can I turn around
now?”
The heat Grace felt
burning her cheeks intensified at the tiny smile on his face.
“Yes.”
He turned, his gaze
finding, and lingering, on her breasts. Those tingles she’d felt
earlier when thinking of him returned with a vengeance as she
looked down. Her wet skin made the material of her gown
transparent. He could see clean through it.
She raised the towel to
her chest before lifting her chin a notch. “Do you
mind?”
His gaze returned to her
face as his smile widened. “Not at all. Feel free to get naked in
my kitchen anytime you like.”
Grace scowled at him
before reaching for her discarded clothes and dragging them to her.
“You are a pig, Rafe Samuels.” She turned on her heel and ran from
the room, climbed the steps as quick as she dared in the dark, and
shut her bedroom door hard enough to wake Jesse. She grimaced at
the sound and hoped he wasn't a light sleeper.
Her thoughts went back to
Rafe, to the look on his face when he
a wife, what the boy needed was the loving attention only a mother
could provide and she was determined to give it to him.
It was obvious there
hadn’t been a woman in this house for some time. Jesse had said his
mother had died years ago and she couldn’t imagine any other woman
wanting to be inside the house as she’d found it, which eased one
of her fears. Rafe didn’t have a woman friend. Not one he brought
home, anyway.
She sighed as she thought
of him. She wasn’t sure why she still found him attractive. He was
surly most of the time, that is if he even bothered to speak to her
to begin with. He said nothing of the meals she cooked for him,
nothing as to the state of the house, and didn't even look at her
most days. If she had to guess, she'd say he didn't think much of
her at all, which was odd.
Her life in Boston had
been full of suitors. Men of every age showered her with attention
as they tried to woo her and she'd flirted and complimented them as
she'd been taught to do. None of those things would work on Rafe.
He didn't seem like the type of man who would be swayed by a pretty
woman, regardless of how she acted toward him.
She'd spent days giving
him her best smiles, trying to show him without words how much
seeing him thrilled her and….nothing. The man barely glanced her
way. When he bothered speaking to her, it was curt replies, disdain
dripping from his words to make her think the sight of her angered
him. She was at a loss as to what to do.
The day she met him, his
gaze had lingered on her breasts as he took a slow perusal of her
body. Desire had stained his eyes with heat. The way he’d looked at
her at the stagecoach station had said it all. He’d wanted her. It
may not have been the forever kind of want but he was attracted to
her, just as she was to him.
So why was he so aloof?
Did he have a woman friend after all? Was there a widow somewhere
in Willow Creek who knew what it felt like to have his strong hands
caressing her flesh? She shivered just thinking about
it.
The water had cooled
enough that her shivers weren’t caused by thoughts of Rafe alone
and Grace stood, goose bumps pimpling her skin as the cool air hit
her wet flesh. When she reached for her towel, the back door flew
open. She gasped, turned to see Rafe standing there staring at her
and scrambled for her towel. “Turn around,” she yelled as loudly as
she dared. He raised an eyebrow at her before doing as
asked.
“The kitchen isn’t the
best place for bathing.” He shut the door, removing his coat and
hat, placing them on the pegs in the wall. “Unless you know you
won’t be disturbed.”
Grace stepped out of the
tub, grabbed her gown and threw it on, the back of it soaking
through as it was pulled down over her wet hair. “I thought
everyone was asleep.”
“I normally would be but
Jesse didn’t finish his chores so I had to do them.” He turned his
head a fraction, his eyes averted. “Can I turn around
now?”
The heat Grace felt
burning her cheeks intensified at the tiny smile on his face.
“Yes.”
He turned, his gaze
finding, and lingering, on her breasts. Those tingles she’d felt
earlier when thinking of him returned with a vengeance as she
looked down. Her wet skin made the material of her gown
transparent. He could see clean through it.
She raised the towel to
her chest before lifting her chin a notch. “Do you
mind?”
His gaze returned to her
face as his smile widened. “Not at all. Feel free to get naked in
my kitchen anytime you like.”
Grace scowled at him
before reaching for her discarded clothes and dragging them to her.
“You are a pig, Rafe Samuels.” She turned on her heel and ran from
the room, climbed the steps as quick as she dared in the dark, and
shut her bedroom door hard enough to wake Jesse. She grimaced at
the sound and hoped he wasn't a light sleeper.
Her thoughts went back to
Rafe, to the look on his face when he
Similar Books
