by Jillian Hart
Nick decided to let that one pass without comment. He didn’t feel like trading jests.
“Don’t say no right off, not until you think it through.” Will bent in his saddle to unlatch the gate. “The dance tonight will give you the chance to see what your options are. You could even dance with the lady of your choice. If she lowers her standards.”
Nick nosed his mare through the gate and waited with the wind knifing through his jacket while Will hooked the latch.
Go to the dance? Look over the marriageable women like horses lined up at an auction? That didn’t sit right. He had no interest in taking any woman to wife.
Except his children were what mattered, what counted.
The high plains rolled from horizon to horizon and gave no answers.
A wife? He had to consider it. Maybe he would go to the dance tonight. Look at his options. See what could be. Marrying this time would be different. He was older. No one expected a man his age and with children needing a mother to marry for love.
A marriage of convenience. Isn’t that what he and Lida had anyway? They’d lived in the same house and each did their work. Then fell into separate beds at night.
Troubled, he rubbed his chest. The spot behind his breastbone kept growing tighter and tighter. He didn’t want a wife, but Lord knew he needed one.
His children needed a mother.
“Your angel food cakes smells like heaven,” Rayna Ludgrin praised as she set her big wicker basket on the kitchen table. “Why, it’s as perfect as could be. You’ll put us all to shame at the supper tonight.”
Mariah blushed. She didn’t like praise, but she could see her friend only meant to be kind. “My cooking can’t beat yours, and you know it. Let me grab my apron and I’ll be ready to go.”
“You aren’t wearing that, are you?”
Did she detect a note of criticism? Mariah lifted a laundered and folded apron from the shelf. “It’s my Sunday best. I figured it would be good enough.”
“Good enough, why, yes.” Rayna didn’t even have the grace to look guilty. “Surely black isn’t the best color for tonight. This is a supper and a dance, Mariah. Men will be there.”
“Good for them.” Mariah slipped the glass cover over her best pedestal cake plate and lifted it into Rayna’s basket. “I’ve volunteered to help in the kitchen tonight, so black is a sensible color. What are you up to, anyway?”
“Not one thing. You might want to wear your beige calico. Quite fetching on you.”
“I see where this is going.” Mariah’s face heated. “You’re wasting your breath. The bachelors in this town are too young for me.”
“Not Nick Gray. In our day, I thought you two were going to be quite the couple.”
“Nothing came of it then, and I’m not about to change my dress just to please the likes of Mr. Gray.”
“What a shame.” Rayna snapped the lid shut on her basket. “A lot of women in this town don’t think the way you do. They’ll be all gussied up in their finest, praying for the handsome widower to ask them to dance.”
“Then he’ll not miss me.” Mariah kept her chin high, refusing to let even the slightest regret into her voice. She didn’t need Nick Gray. Not to dance with. Not to marry.
Maybe if she told herself that enough times, she would believe it. Then—maybe—it wouldn’t hurt so much.
Rayna hummed as she stacked molasses cookies from the cooling racks onto a plate. Her gold wedding ring caught the late afternoon light. Rayna would never understand. She was happily married and a mother of three sons.
What did she know about rejection? About watching the man you secretly loved marry someone pretty and vivacious? About spending every night alone in the same house for years, wishing another man would come along. Wishing for just one man to love her, despite her faults.
Mariah grabbed the oven mitts and swung open the oven door. The aroma of chicken potpie made her mouth water. The crusts were golden, the gravy bubbling through the little flowers she’d cut into the dough. Dry heat blazed across her face as she knelt to rescue the pans.
“Nick will need a wife who can cook.”
“Plenty of women can cook. One thing Mr. Gray won’t be doing is asking me to cook for him.” It didn’t matter that he would find himself another young and pretty woman. Truly, it didn’t bother her one bit.
“Nick was sweet on you years ago.”
“He isn’t now.” Remembering Nick’s look of disdain today on the road, her face flushed again.
All right, so maybe that did hurt—but just the tiniest bit. What she needed to be was practical. Earlier today she had seen it as plain as daylight on his face—she’d grown too hard and too sharp. Over time, her cold heart had grown colder. She hated that, and hated that it showed so much.
Laden with the heavy basket, Rayna lingered at the back door. “A man never forgets his first love.”
“We were not in love.”
Rayna frowned. “Maybe not, but only because your father wouldn’t allow him to court you.”
“Nick didn’t try hard enough.” Bitterness still ached in her breast, and she turned away. The years of loneliness settled in a hard lump in her throat, making it hard to breathe and harder to talk, so she opened the pantry door and pretended to be very busy.
It was a good thing she loved her volunteer work. Her cherished spot on the Ladies’ Aid had given her great satisfaction. She didn’t need a husband to be happy. Why, look at her kitchen. Not a speck of mud or a man’s grimy boots in a messy pile on her hand-polished floor. See? Her life was in perfect order, just the way she wanted it.
And if her conscience bit at the lie she told herself, she ignored it.
“Oh, speak of the devil.” Rayna’s tone held delight. “Some man is driving up in his fine fringed-top surrey. A man by the name of Mr. Gray.”
“Stop teasing me and grab the basket I have by the door, would you? I’ve packed extra dish towels.” As the vice president of the Ladies’ Aid, Mariah took pride in her experience serving and washing. “Surely, there will be a lot of dishes to wash—”
A rattle of a harness in the yard echoed through her kitchen. That couldn’t be. Surely Nick Gray wasn’t in her driveway…
He was. Her breath caught as a matching team of sleek bays pranced into sight. They stopped, looking as graceful as a waltz, their long black manes flickering in the wind. The sunlight gleamed on their bronze coats and the new surrey behind them, where Nick Gray held thick leather straps between leather-gloved fingers. He was real and not a daydream, right? Mariah blinked, and sure enough he was still sitting there.
Why was he here? Suddenly her black dress was too plain, her hair too sensible, her shoes too scuffed. But he was as fine-looking as ever. His black Stetson framed his dark eyes and matched his finely tailored black suit. He looked so masculine and dashing, he made every part of her tingle. She hated her reaction to him.
“Good evening, Mrs. Ludgrin. Mariah.” He climbed handily from the high seat to the ground, every movement deliberate and predatory and somehow breathtaking. He moved with confidence, making it clear he’d come for a purpose.
To talk to her? She couldn’t imagine why. She noticed Nick’s brother Will in the second seat of the buggy, his arm slung over the back of the seat, dressed up as well. Were they going to the supper and dance tonight?
Rayna’s smile was all-knowing as she hurried down the porch, lugging both baskets. Leaving Mariah alone to face Nick.
That wasn’t fair.
Nick stepped aside on the walkway, all gentleman. “Can I get those for you, Rayna?”
“Don’t you mind about me. Looks as though you two need time to talk.” Rayna glanced over her shoulder at Mariah and winked. “Good luck.”
Good luck? Mariah watched her friend hurry off to her parked buggy. Alone with Nick? Twice in one day? The longing within her ached. It took all her willpower not to march back into her house and lock the door. Was it too late to pretend she wasn’t home?
“I am.”
“Seeing you today got me to thinking.” He stared down at his hat. Dark shocks of his hair tumbled over his brow, hiding his eyes. He looked troubled. Contemplative. “I’m sorry for the way I treated you on the road today.”
“I need to apologize, too. I was frightened from the coyotes.”
“Yeah, well…” He looked flustered, picking at the stitching on his hat brim. “I’m awful grateful to you for protecting Georgie. ‘Thank you’ seems awfully small sentiment for what you’ve done.”
“It’s more than enough.”
As their gazes locked, Mariah’s breath caught. The longing in her chest crescendoed until it was all she could feel. Why was he here? He’d already thanked her at the time. Why make a trip out of his way to do it again?
He raked one hand unsteadily through his thick locks, leaving them deliciously tousled. Confident Nick Gray looked remarkably uneasy.
And why was that? He’d apologized. Why wasn’t he leaving?
He rubbed his thumb across the Stetson’s brim, brushing at an invisible spot. “Like I said, I kept thinking about seeing you today.”
“You did?”
“Sure. Couldn’t help it. You were on my mind all afternoon.” He lifted one big shoulder in a shrug.
He thought of her all afternoon? Her? Mariah Scott? The notorious town spinster? Her heart started to race. He wasn’t about to ask her to the dance, was he?
He can’t be. Shock left her speechless. Maybe he was. Why else would he be standing here, hat in hand? As unbelievable as it was, Nicholas Gray had come to ask her to accompany him tonight to the supper and dance.
He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “I got to thinking, with me widowed and you alone.”
“Yes?”
“I know there’s Mrs. Gunderson, but she’s at the other end of town, and after what you did today, I’d like to give you the business.”
“W-what?” She couldn’t have heard him correctly. What did business have to do with the supper and dance?
“My laundry.” He held out one steely arm to point toward the buggy.
Then she saw the baskets of clothes on the floorboards behind the front seat. Nick hadn’t come to ask her to the dance. “You’ve come to hire me?”
“Sure, if you can handle it. I know you’ve got a booming business going.”
Of course. He wanted her to do his laundry. What did she think? That he would actually want her after all these years? Mariah leaned against the threshold, suddenly weak. She somehow managed to take one breath after another.
Nick went on, unaware of the blow he’d dealt. “You turned down my offer to train your ox, and so I thought you might appreciate more business.”
“You thought?” It was amazing the thoughts—or lack of them—that went on in men’s heads.
“I was just trying to be nice, Mariah. I should have known you wouldn’t want my business. No hard feelings. Hope you have a real good evening.”
“Wait, I—” A thousand different emotions warred for words, but she didn’t give in to the anger or the hurt.
What was the point? Times were hard, and she could lower her pride. Making a living was important, and she would always be a spinster. No doubt about that. It looked as though nothing could change it.
She straightened her spine, stood on her own two feet and approached the porch rail. “I charge more than Mrs. Gunderson, but I iron and she doesn’t. I’ll put you on Monday afternoon delivery. Will that be all right?”
“No complaints.” He appeared relieved. “That settles it, then. Good evening to you.” His smile was as slow and smooth as pure maple sugar.
Desire swept over her as she watched him go. The polish on his surrey reflecting a soft purple hue in the light of the setting sun.
She’d always held a softness for Nick. She couldn’t deny it. It would be hard watching him tonight as he danced with other women. Younger women. Prettier women. Harder still to do his laundry and deliver it punctually every week, while he courted and married a more suitable bride.
She tucked away her disappointment and hurried inside. The pies were cool enough to pack into her last basket. The Ladies’ Aid was waiting. She had important work to do and didn’t have the time for wasting on thoughts of Nick Gray. Or her regrets.
Chapter Three
“You blew it, brother,” Will commented from the back seat. “I didn’t think I’d live to see the day when the perfect son, Nicholas Gray, would make a mistake of this magnitude.”
“You think I should have went with Mrs. Gunderson?” Try as he might, Nick would never understand his younger brother. He gave the reins a snap when the horses slowed on the busy main street.
“It isn’t about the laundry, man. The woman thought you were going to ask her to the dance.”
“Mariah? Don’t be ridiculous.” Mariah was a practical woman. Sensible. She wasn’t given to romantic foolishness, and he knew that from firsthand experience. “Mariah wouldn’t have me if I begged her.”
“I wouldn’t be so danged sure. You didn’t see the big, bright moon eyes she was giving you?”
All he’d noticed was the way she’d been standoffish, leaning against the door, more beautiful than the day they’d met. “Moon eyes? Mariah?” The sky had a better chance of falling to earth.
“I’m telling the God’s truth.”
“Is that so? Then why hasn’t a lightning bolt struck the back seat of my buggy?”
“It isn’t gonna. I mean it. You were bumbling around saying things like ‘I kept thinking about you’ and ‘You look pretty.’ What was she bound to think?”
Maybe Will did have a point. But this was Mariah they were talking about. “She wants to be a spinster. She tells anyone who asks.”
“When a man tells a woman that he’s been thinking about her and shows up at her place right before the big town happenings, she expects an invitation to the dance. Heck, brother, you even had me thinking you were gonna ask her.”
The reins slipped between Nick’s fingers. No. How could it be? Mariah hadn’t wanted him ten years ago, at least her father hadn’t. In the years that passed, she hadn’t so much as given him a polite greeting in public. She’d just march past him on the street as if he didn’t exist. As if he were dead and buried to her.
No, Will couldn’t be right.
The schoolhouse came into sight, so he reined in the horses and parked the surrey. Folks were everywhere. His neighbor called out a greeting across the busy crowd. Nick waved back, taking stock.
Looked like the ranchers were gathering in the shade, smoking and discussing wheat prices. They’d fallen again. Not good news for the local ranchers. He set the brake before climbing to the ground. Headed toward the grounds with his brother in tow.
A pretty young woman cut in front of them, carrying a wrapped platter balanced just so, and damned if Will didn’t look his fill as she sauntered up to the schoolhouse steps.
Nick knew trouble when he saw it. “You behave yourself with the ladies. No kisses in the moonlight. I don’t want some angry papa coming after you with a shotgun.”
“Aw, it ain’t my fault. I sometimes get carried away by a woman’s beauty and lose all sense. You’re a man. You’ve got to know how that is.”
Only too well. “It’s called willpower. Use it. That’s my advice.”
“With that outlook, you’re never going to find a new wife.”
Nick ignored the jesting. He was no fool. He wasn’t going to get trapped into marriage a second time. He’d keep his male needs under steely control. If he chose to wed again he’d choose a woman using logic and not his…
Mariah Scott caught his eye. Could anyone explain to him why his gaze shot straight to her? There had to be fifty women milling around, carrying baskets and platters from their wagons to the schoolhouse. Why couldn’t he notice one of them? Why didn
’t his gaze stray to their bosoms?
He kept on walking. The other ranchers had gathered near to a keg of homemade ale that smelled like heaven on the breeze.
“Been waitin’ for you, Gray.” Al Ludgrin thrust a foaming tankard in Nick’s direction.
“Just what I need.” No truer words had ever been spoken. Nodding in greeting to the other ranchers, young and old, he took a sip and noticed Mariah again.
She was climbing down from her wagon, dressed all in black. The high proud curve of her bosom sure did look fine. Desire stirred in him. No doubt about it—she was surely a finely made woman, hard and tough, true, but soft where it mattered.
Alone, she tethered her ox. Alone, she lifted two heavy-looking baskets from the floor of her small wagon. Had she always looked that sad?
He didn’t know, but it was on her face plain enough for anyone to see. The straight line of her mouth, down-turned in the corners. The town’s formidable spinster wove her way through the crowd of children playing, a tall and slim shadow touched by the last rays of the setting sun.
Nick took a long pull from the tankard. The ale was bracing, just shy of bitter, but not strong enough to make him forget the troubled feeling churning in his guts.
Mariah squeezed between the table rows in the crowded schoolhouse when she saw Rayna Ludgrin bringing a fresh pot of coffee. Finally! They were sending in the reinforcements. She was dead on her feet and could use a few minutes’ break.
“Don’t get too hopeful,” Rayna told her, speaking loud to be heard over the merry din. “They need you to keep serving. Careful, the handle’s hot.”
It sure was. Mariah’s fingers felt seared in spite of the thick pad as she took possession of the coffeepot. “We never expected such a good showing.”
“There isn’t an empty seat,” Rayna agreed. “So, are you going to tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
“What Nick Gray had to say to you. I noticed he hasn’t taken his eyes off you all evening. Does that mean he asked you to the dance?”
“Why would he? We’re not even friends.” Mariah tucked that piece of disappointment away and filled an empty cup of coffee for old Mr. Dayton.