Bethany could understand that. Being a marshal, or even a deputy, was dangerous work. If the robbers had returned when they’d rescued her, their lives could have been in grave danger. Just the thought of it made her feel ill.
They finished dessert and made their way into the parlor. “Sit down, Hunter and I’ll bring you a mug of coffee,” Nancy told him, not giving him a chance to refuse.
“You must be overloaded,” Bethany said. “I still can’t believe you ate a second meal.” She sounded serious, but despite that, she smiled at him.
He studied her. “I’m a growing boy, you know,” he said, almost laughing as he spoke.
She frowned. “Perhaps I’m not giving you enough?” She worried now. He was the sort that wouldn’t complain, and would just take what he got. Her cheeks warmed at her embarrassment for not feeding him properly.
He turned to her. “It is more than enough,” he whispered. “Have you ever said no to Nancy Richter?”
They both laughed, and Nancy walked through the door right at that moment. “What’s so funny?” she asked, placing a mug of coffee in front of Hunter, then handing a tea to Bethany. Her cheeks warmed again.
Instead of answering, Hunter completely changed the subject. “I really must go when I finish this coffee,” he said smoothly, diverting attention away from their earlier conspiracy. “I still have my nightly rounds to do.”
“Well, I do appreciate you walking our Bethany home each night,” Nancy said, taking a seat opposite him. “You never know who or what is out there.”
He nodded then took a sip of his coffee, staring at Bethany over the rim of his mug. His eyes shone mischievously, and it took all her restraint not to laugh. Whatever would Nancy say?
Nancy began to add wood to the fire. “It is getting quite chilly at night,” she said. Hunter took over the task, allowing Nancy to rest.
“I said that to Bethany when we were leaving the bakery,” he said. “Soon Christmas will be here, and it will be colder still.”
“You are right. I must organize for the young Jones boy to chop some more wood for me. He does a good job, and doesn’t charge a fortune.”
Hunter took his seat again and leaned over to Bethany. “The young Jones boy is almost twenty,” he told her. “He’s been chopping wood for the townsfolk for at least seven years.”
She couldn’t help but chuckle.
Suddenly he gulped down the rest of his coffee and stood. “As much as I’d love to stay, I have to go,” he said. “I have rounds to do.”
Bethany stood too, and walked him to the door. Hunter put his coat on, and opened the door. “I had a wonderful night,” he said. “The best for a very long time. I’ll collect you at the bakery as usual and we’ll go to the diner.”
“About that…”
He frowned at her. “Oh no you don’t.” he said quietly. “You’re not getting out if it that easily.” Hunter suddenly stepped forward and cupped her face with his hands.
His mouth covered hers, and it felt like they belonged together. She moaned, an almost silent sound, but it was there. She leaned into him and they melded together. His hands went up her back, and Bethany felt she was right where she belonged.
He suddenly pushed her away. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.” He stared down at her, annoyance evident.
She stared up into his face. “Why not?” she asked quietly, feeling a little disappointed at his reaction to what seemed a natural progression to their friendship.
“I had no right.” He pushed back from her and turned to leave.
“What about tomorrow night,” she demanded.
“It was always a bad idea,” he said, then quickly disappeared into the night.
Chapter Seven
Bethany spent the best part of her morning making Christmas puddings. They were more time consuming than most other items she baked. Even using the largest pot they had, only four puddings could be cooked at one time, and each batch had to be boiled for hours.
Oscar had bought up all the calico available from the mercantile, and ordered in another ten yards. If they didn’t use it all this year, it could be stored for the following Christmas. Assuming she was even still there.
The moment word got around, they’d been flooded with orders for puddings. There was only one way that could have happened – Hunter. No one else knew.
She’d had to set up an order book, and glancing through it, wondered how she would ever make enough puddings to fulfil the orders. Either she’d be making puddings virtually non-stop, or Oscar would have to buy at least one more large pot.
She would get young Tommy Jones to ask his mother to increase their egg order by at least five times. Bethany hoped the chickens could keep up. Her arm was already aching from all the stirring she was doing.
She glanced up as the bell over the door tinkled. It was Hunter. That was all she needed.
“Good morning,” he grumbled as though what happened last night was her fault. It wasn’t.
She nodded but didn’t speak, and continued to mix. “Sure,” she finally said.
It really wasn’t a good morning. For weeks he’d treated her like a leper, which had suited her fine. Then suddenly last night, he’d asked her out, kissed her, and dumped her all in a matter of hours. What sort of reception did he expect?
“I guess I deserve that,” he said. “I came to tell you there are no prisoners for supper tonight.”
She glanced up again and stopped momentarily. “Fine. Thanks.” She was far from interested in small talk and wished he would leave.
He pushed his hat back on his head, fiddled with his gloves, and pulled his coat further around himself. It seemed like he didn’t want to leave. “I also want to apologize.”
“You know where the door is,” she said abruptly, not interested in his explanations.
“Bethany…”
“It was your choice,” she said, beginning to lose her temper. “Now please leave.”
He stared at her, sadness evident on his face. “I…”
“Not interested,” she said, then picked up the bowl and went into the kitchen. She didn’t return until she heard the bell tinkle over the door as he left.
“Don’t you think you’re being a bit harsh?” Oscar knew something was wrong when she’d arrived this morning, and was sympathetic when he’d finally dragged it out of her. “The poor man has no idea how to treat women. He deals with criminals and thugs all day, and you expect him to be perfect.”
He looked serious, but she wasn’t sure if he was.
“Not my problem,” she said, then returned to the bakery. She laid the four wet pieces of calico across the counter, sprinkled it with flour to form a thick white coating on the cooked pudding, then divided the recipe evenly. Once done, she pulled the sides up, tying each bundle with thick string. The events of last night ran through her mind. Had she done something to make Hunter suddenly change his mind?
No matter. Her opinion of him was correct from the start. He was arrogant, he was self-centered, and really didn’t care for her.
If that’s true, why does he walk you home every night? That voice in her head was unrelenting. Hunter Bancroft cared about himself and his town. If something happened to her, it would be a blight on his reputation.
She dropped the tightly sealed packages into the boiling water and closed the lid. Then why did he ask you out? That’s easy – because he wanted something different for a change.
She strolled back into the bakery. Why did Hunter kiss you if he has no interest in you? That was the most baffling question of all. She had absolutely no idea of the answer.
What she did know was she felt wanted when she was in his arms. When he was around, she felt protected too. She’d never felt that before. At Nancy’s he’d been open, funny, and she was comfortable in his presence.
Perhaps Oscar was right. Maybe she was being too hard on him. Well, it was too late now. He’d acted like an ass, and now he had to live with it. Bethany placed
ingredients in a fresh bowl. She would make carrot cake this time, and see how that went down with the locals. Oscar had given her virtually a free run on what she made, provided she fitted in some of the favorites his customers came back for time and again.
He spent most of his time creating his specialties – bread loaves and rolls – while Bethany did all the sweet products. Between them they were doing really well.
“Time for a break, I think.” Oscar was a very generous boss. They seemed to have more breaks than she ever got working for her father, and she wasn’t complaining. He put the kettle on and she finished mixing her carrot cake. By the time their drinks were poured, the cakes were in the oven.
She had her back to the door at one of the tables, when the bell tinkled. Oscar stood, grabbing his mug as he went. She instinctively knew it was Hunter. If she hadn’t already been certain, she was now that Oscar left a mug of coffee on the table then made himself scarce.
She glanced up as Hunter approached the table. He sat without an invitation. That was his arrogance coming out.
“Do you mind,” he asked once he was sitting and sipping his coffee. Too bad if she did – he’d already sat down and made up his mind to stay. “I’m really sorry about last night. I was totally in the wrong.”
She glared at him. “Yes you were.” She began to leave, but he reached out and held her hand.
“Stay. Please.” His eyes begged her, and she didn’t have the heart to refuse. Despite sitting down again, he didn’t let go of her hand. It felt good, comfortable, and she didn’t try to take it away.
“I know I’ve been hard to get along with.”
“You think?” If it hadn’t been so serious, she would have laughed.
He pulled his gaze away from her face and stared at their entwined hands. “I am not the easiest person to get along with, I know that.”
He got that right.
“I hold myself at a distance from people I care for, because I don’t know what is going to happen from one minute to the next.” He stared at her as though she should know what he meant. “Take yesterday for example. Otis could have hurt you. Or even killed you.”
She watched as he tried to compose himself, and she tried to swallow down her own emotions.
“He could have, but didn’t,” she told him quietly. “You wouldn’t have let him.”
Hunter took a large gulp of his coffee. “No, I wouldn’t have, but you fixed the problem before I could.” He grinned then, lifting the mood.
“I didn’t know what else to do,” she said. “I was scared, really scared. I knew he was drunk, I could smell it on him. The teenagers tried to entice him away, but Otis wouldn’t budge.” She closed her eyes then, trying to force the memory to the back of her mind, but it wasn’t working.
Hunter squeezed her hand, then stood, pulling her up with him. His arms enveloped her and she leaned against him. There was only one thing on her mind, and that was the man holding her. He might be infuriating at times, but he was also very special to her.
~*~
The diner was near empty, which didn’t upset Hunter at all.
The fact he’d been able to entice Bethany to still come after his stupidity of last night, amazed him. He’d acted like a teenager, and there was absolutely no excuse for it. He was a grown man, and should know better.
Only he didn’t. If he’d taken the advise of the townsfolk over all these years, he’d have found himself a good woman and married her. Until now, no one had caught his interest. Now that she had, he had a hard time because she was up and down with her moods. One minute she was sweet as pie, and the next she lost her temper and was off like a firecracker.
It took all his effort not to grin. He did like the firecracker – sometimes. Other times she went way too far. He wasn’t sure he could cope with that on a long-term basis. He frowned. Who mentioned long-term? Right now they were getting to know each other.
“Is everything alright?” Her gentle voice brought him out of his thoughts.
He glanced up. “Sure. I was just thinking, is all.”
“I’m glad you changed your mind about tonight. The food here is wonderful.”
“Yours is better,” he said, sliding his hand across the table to hers. “But I wouldn’t tell Martha that.”
“What’s that?” Martha Greenwood, owner of the diner, suddenly appeared beside him.
Bethany tried to hide her smile, but it didn’t quite work. “I was saying the food is perfection,” he said, trying to cover up his comments of before.
“It really is,” Bethany said. “I really enjoyed your chicken pot pie.”
Martha smiled. “You can come anytime you like, my dear,” she said, then leaned in and cleared the table of their soiled plates. “Desert?”
“Can we have a menu, please?” Hunter said. The desserts were always good here, but again, not as good as Bethany’s.
She shuffled away and returned soon after with a menu, then left them alone again.
“There’s Cherry Cobbler,” Hunter said, reading out the menu. “Apple Pie, Lemon Tart, Blancmange, or Bread and Butter Pudding.”
Bethany screwed up her face at the last item, and it made him laugh. “I do love a good lemon tart,” she said. “Bread and butter pudding is a good way to use up leftover stale bread!”
Clearly she didn’t approve. It made him chuckle.
“It’s true,” she protested. “I would never serve such a thing in a diner.”
Martha arrived again, took their order for two lemon tarts, then left them alone again.
“I’m having a great time,” Hunter said after Martha was out of earshot. “I’m sorry about, you know.” He didn’t want to bring it up all over again. After all, it was totally his fault, and he didn’t need reminding of that fact.
This time it was Bethany who reached for his hand. “I am too,” she said. “Let’s try to forget about the unpleasantness and move forward.”
He nodded his agreement. It wasn’t long until their desserts arrived, along with a strawberry that had been sliced and decorated with cream. Their hot beverages also arrived.
It had been a long time since Hunter had eaten here. With Oscar providing him with a meal most nights, he no longer needed to frequent the diner. He still liked to come in from time to time, if for no other reason, than to support Martha’s business.
“If making so many puddings hadn’t reminded me, I’d know Christmas was approaching,” Bethany said.
Hunter was confused until he glanced about. There in the corner of the diner was a small Christmas tree. It was so small it was barely visible from across the room. Martha had made an attempt to decorate it, but hadn’t gotten far. Or perhaps she thought it was enough.
Either way, it made him chuckle.
“Does Oscar put up a tree in the bakery? Or decorations?”
“Sometimes he puts decorations on the window. Can’t say I recall ever seeing a tree there.”
Bethany sighed. “I guess that’s going to be my job from now on.”
He felt certain she would enjoy doing it, but she was so overloaded with the onslaught of pudding orders right now, she probably felt overwhelmed. “I’m sorry about spreading the word on the puddings. I didn’t realize you would be overloaded with orders.”
She waved his concerns away. “We’ll cope. Oscar is rubbing his hands together. He said the bakery has never been so busy.”
“And all because of you.”
“Perhaps. Or perhaps not. Anyone could have done the same thing.”
That was just like Bethany, discounting the part she played. “Anyone else isn’t here. You are, and you’re doing a wonderful job. Oscar told me so himself, and that’s high praise if ever there was.”
She shrugged her shoulders as though she played only a small part in the bakery’s success. “Shall we go for a stroll?” he asked. Bethany agreed.
They both stood and headed toward the front door of the diner. “Supper was wonderful, Mrs Greenwood. Thank you,�
�� Bethany said.
“I hear you’re a far better cook than me,” the older woman said, glancing across at Hunter. “I’m very pleased you haven’t opened your own diner.”
Did she overhear their conversation? Hunter hoped not – he had tried to be discreet. “You underestimate yourself,” he said, trying to right a wrong. “The food was delicious. It always is.” He helped Bethany into her coat, paid the account and they were soon on their way.
“Do you think she heard me talking earlier?” he asked almost the moment they were out the door.
Bethany grinned at him. “You’re being oversensitive. I’m certain she didn’t. In a town like this, gossip abounds, you know it does.”
He sighed. “You’re right. Tomorrow the gossipmongers will be talking about us. Instead of having supper together, we’ll be courting, and soon to be married.” He knew it was true. Small towns always had their gossips; there was no getting around it.
“Would that be so bad?” She had such a cheeky expression on her face, he knew she was teasing him. But she was right, it wouldn’t be so bad being married to the firecracker standing beside him right now.
“Maybe, maybe not.” He pulled his coat around himself, then offered his arm. “Where would you like to go? There’s not a lot to see around here.”
She finished fastening the buttons on her woolen coat, then linked her arm through his. “Wherever you think I may not have seen? Honestly, I don’t know. But I miss the long walks I used to take in Cedar Rapids before Father died.”
He could understand that. Cedar Rapids was far bigger than Alsburgh. It could be considered a large city, so there would be plenty to see. Mostly the town of Alsburgh consisted of Main Street where the majority of businesses were, and Chapel Street, which sat behind Main Street and was occupied by the church and the pastor’s house. The rest of the town was mostly spread out beyond what was known as the city limits. Nancy’s boarding house was one of those places.
Rescuing the Lawman Page 5