even in the half-lit room she could see the hurt in his eyes.
The hurt. That realization tore her apart. Never in a million years would she want to hurt Gil. She couldn't stand that he thought that of her. And she couldn’t believe that she mattered so much to him. She pointed to the ceiling above. "It was Maureen. She's been in a mood ever since Lawrence came calling. She didn't approve of him asking me to go for a drive."
"So, what did she do to you?" Protectively, his shoulders squared. The angles of his face hardened, his blue eyes darkened.
"Oh, just found some work for me to do."
"That's why you missed supper?" Concern pinched his features, making him somehow more handsome, more desirable. As big and strong as he was, he had a good heart.
That's why she had to fight so hard not to let her feelings for him grow, to keep her heart firmly closed against him. She fisted her hands, when she wanted to reach out to him. She willed her feet to stay in place when she wanted to be closer to him. "I just finished most of the work. Aumaleigh dismissed me, she said I didn't have to finish it. Maureen was asleep and she'd never know."
"That was good of Aumaleigh. I'm glad she looks out for you." He fingered his hat brim, a muscle jumping along his rock-hard jawbone. "Did you get anything to eat?"
"No, I was just going to go to bed."
"Not without a meal, you aren't." He tossed his hat on the work table and reached out for her. When his larger fingers curled around her wrist, snaring her, she tried to ignore the frisson of heat snapping up her arm. She tried to tell herself not to give in, to be strong, but she was weak. She couldn’t stop her feet from carrying her along where he directed her. He held out a chair at the small table by the window, the one she often ate at after the cowboys and Maureen had been served.
"Sit." His command was both firm and mellow. "How many meals have you served me? This time, just this once, let me serve you."
Tears prickled behind her eyes. His kindness would be her undoing. "No, I can't."
"Sorry, I'm not taking no for an answer." His hands moved up her arms, leaving shivery sensations, until they settled on her shoulders. He nudged her downward, into the chair. Unable to resist him, she sat, staring up at him, shadowed and yet more revealed than ever.
Affection brightened the blue shade of his irises, changed and gentled the craggy angles of his face, made him seem ten times more amazing. Her heart rolled over in one unstoppable fall. What was she going to do now?
"I'm not generally this bossy," he explained, moving away from her with measured footsteps, blending into the shadowed corner of the room. A drawer scraped open. "You bring out the worst in me."
"You know I don't like a bossy man." Her voice wobbled, and she fought so hard to keep it from betraying her, from showing feelings she could not confess. "Not at all. Not one bit."
"So I've heard. Guess I'm good and truly out of the running." The edge of a knife refracted the lamplight, then vanished. "Maybe Lawrence really is more your type?"
"Don't even." She rolled her eyes. "Honestly, I did not hear you say that."
"I could help you out by pretending to break up with you tomorrow at the party." There was the thunk of a plate, the scent of fresh bread. "That would free up your path to him."
"Do it and I'll never speak to you again." Now she was smiling, biting her bottom lip, trying not to laugh. The exhaustion she felt slipped away until there was only a glow like the lamplight in the hallway, softly flickering. "Pretend to break up with me, and you become my number one enemy. I'd put you straight to the top of my list."
"You can't fool me. You don't have an enemy list." He turned from the counter, holding a plate in his hand. He emerged from the darkness, a shadow taking on substance, eyes becoming bright blue, those lips that had kissed her cheek saying her name. "Maebry, there is nobody kinder than you."
"Ah, just proves
The hurt. That realization tore her apart. Never in a million years would she want to hurt Gil. She couldn't stand that he thought that of her. And she couldn’t believe that she mattered so much to him. She pointed to the ceiling above. "It was Maureen. She's been in a mood ever since Lawrence came calling. She didn't approve of him asking me to go for a drive."
"So, what did she do to you?" Protectively, his shoulders squared. The angles of his face hardened, his blue eyes darkened.
"Oh, just found some work for me to do."
"That's why you missed supper?" Concern pinched his features, making him somehow more handsome, more desirable. As big and strong as he was, he had a good heart.
That's why she had to fight so hard not to let her feelings for him grow, to keep her heart firmly closed against him. She fisted her hands, when she wanted to reach out to him. She willed her feet to stay in place when she wanted to be closer to him. "I just finished most of the work. Aumaleigh dismissed me, she said I didn't have to finish it. Maureen was asleep and she'd never know."
"That was good of Aumaleigh. I'm glad she looks out for you." He fingered his hat brim, a muscle jumping along his rock-hard jawbone. "Did you get anything to eat?"
"No, I was just going to go to bed."
"Not without a meal, you aren't." He tossed his hat on the work table and reached out for her. When his larger fingers curled around her wrist, snaring her, she tried to ignore the frisson of heat snapping up her arm. She tried to tell herself not to give in, to be strong, but she was weak. She couldn’t stop her feet from carrying her along where he directed her. He held out a chair at the small table by the window, the one she often ate at after the cowboys and Maureen had been served.
"Sit." His command was both firm and mellow. "How many meals have you served me? This time, just this once, let me serve you."
Tears prickled behind her eyes. His kindness would be her undoing. "No, I can't."
"Sorry, I'm not taking no for an answer." His hands moved up her arms, leaving shivery sensations, until they settled on her shoulders. He nudged her downward, into the chair. Unable to resist him, she sat, staring up at him, shadowed and yet more revealed than ever.
Affection brightened the blue shade of his irises, changed and gentled the craggy angles of his face, made him seem ten times more amazing. Her heart rolled over in one unstoppable fall. What was she going to do now?
"I'm not generally this bossy," he explained, moving away from her with measured footsteps, blending into the shadowed corner of the room. A drawer scraped open. "You bring out the worst in me."
"You know I don't like a bossy man." Her voice wobbled, and she fought so hard to keep it from betraying her, from showing feelings she could not confess. "Not at all. Not one bit."
"So I've heard. Guess I'm good and truly out of the running." The edge of a knife refracted the lamplight, then vanished. "Maybe Lawrence really is more your type?"
"Don't even." She rolled her eyes. "Honestly, I did not hear you say that."
"I could help you out by pretending to break up with you tomorrow at the party." There was the thunk of a plate, the scent of fresh bread. "That would free up your path to him."
"Do it and I'll never speak to you again." Now she was smiling, biting her bottom lip, trying not to laugh. The exhaustion she felt slipped away until there was only a glow like the lamplight in the hallway, softly flickering. "Pretend to break up with me, and you become my number one enemy. I'd put you straight to the top of my list."
"You can't fool me. You don't have an enemy list." He turned from the counter, holding a plate in his hand. He emerged from the darkness, a shadow taking on substance, eyes becoming bright blue, those lips that had kissed her cheek saying her name. "Maebry, there is nobody kinder than you."
"Ah, just proves
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