Romance: Young Adult Romance: The Perfect Game (A Highschool Football Romance) (Bad Boy Nerd New Adult Romance)

by White, Stella

  “Now didn’t you have something to ask me?” He said. “They will bring us our food in a little while. We have time to talk.”

  She sat back down and he did, too, leaning over the table toward her.

  “Well,” She hesitated, again worried about what he would think. “I told you before that my parents own a restaurant. That’s how I know what to do when working there.”

  He nodded. “Yes and you do a good job. Even in business matters, I’ve noticed that you make good decisions.”

  “Thank you. That’s my father’s influence.”

  “Your father must be a good teacher.”

  “He is. And I followed him around all the time.” She laughed, thinking about her father’s acceptance of his young daughter trying to be just like him. “I admire everything about him. But before I came here something tragic happened to my family.”

  “And what was that?”

  “Well…” Again, she hesitated, looking down.

  “Caroline, don’t be anxious about what you have to say. If we are to be married, we must be open and honest with each other. Go ahead.”

  She knew her cheeks had filled again. She decided to just get it out. “My father’s business partner stole all the profits from the restaurant for the past several years. He has bankrupted our family…or it will happen and we will lose everything unless something happens fast.”

  George sat back with a serious look. She instantly feared he suspected her affection for him was only because of the money. When he spoke, she felt a deep sense of relief.

  “What? That is horrible! Yes, that is a dreadful thing for your family!”

  “I would like to help them if I can. If you are willing to help them, I will work off every cent you give, in the restaurant or casino. I will do whatever it takes to pay you back.”

  George was quiet for a moment and she wondered what he was thinking. Was he angry with her for asking? Did he know that she truly felt love for him?

  “Let me ask you something, Caroline,” He said, leaning toward her again. Her breath caught. “Do you truly have feelings for me? Can you love me?”

  She lowered her head. “I already do,” She whispered.

  He reached out and took her hand. “I believe that, Caroline. I see how you look at me and it fills my heart. I don’t need you to pay off every cent in the restaurant or casino. I don’t need you to pay it back at all. I have money. What I want is love. I don’t mind using that money to make someone I love prosper…or her family, in this case.”

  “Oh, George!” Caroline began to cry, her relief flowing through her. Her mother and father and siblings would be safe. The restaurant would continue to be profitable. He stood up again and gathered her in his arms.

  “I love you, Caroline. I want you to be happy. Please don’t worry or hesitate to ask me for anything that you need.”

  She looked up into his eyes. “You are an amazing man, George. I can’t thank you enough for caring enough about me to help my family, too. Thank you!”

  She moved into his waiting arms. “I love you, too.”

  *****

  THE END

  MAIL ORDER BRIDE - A Heart in the West

  Chapter 1

  It was the late summer of 1871 when Cora Sutton left from the big city and boarded the Lil’ Miss, a prize addition to the East Missouri Rail operations. She boasted less than a week’s journey from Boston to the Western territory, and just two and a half weeks to California, notwithstanding unexpected delays in the form of weather and shady characters with sights on her cargo.

  It can’t very well be all that bad, Cora Sutton had thought as she boarded the train, her carpet bag nearly falling at the seams. Perhaps she should have stowed away books in a travel chest, and not in her bag. But what else was she to do with the time? Cora laughed as she bumbled down the aisle to her coach, chiding at her wandering imagination.

  Train bandits don’t really exist, not in real life, she said to herself. And the Western territory surely isn’t all that wild…

  The thought would prove a cruel stroke of irony in the days to follow.

  For the time being, all she had to set her sights on was taming her imagination from getting away from her. Cora admitted to herself that she was actually quite excited. A serendipitous ad in the paper. A snap decision. And the promise of a new life out West. It all sounded rather romantic for a simple hosiery girl at Freeman’s Department Store--well, former hosiery girl. One day, she was living a dull, hapless life on the bustling streets of New York City, and the next she was set for life. Or she would be, as there were some small details yet to attend to.

  It started about two months before the Lil’ Miss even slugged her way into Grand Central Station. Cora worked as the assistant stocker at one of the finest department stores in Manhattan. The marble ceilings rose as high as three levels, with bright crystal chandeliers glittering in the light. The sound of women, of the most well-to-do-sort, clicked their shoes and brushed their puffed dresses through the ground floor, eyeing the delights the store had to offer. For Cora, the closest she could ever come to such a life was spent in the back closets of the store, stocking the hosiery and other ladies’ garments. It was quite the accomplishment even getting that far. Before hosiery girl, she had a stay as a seamstress, but not for long as she had little to no skill in such delicate matters. Then there was a brief stint working in a factory making women’s hat boxes, which proved to be a tedious task that required too much focus for a constant daydreamer. Nanny, flower girl, a shoemaker’s store clerk...and the list went on.

  Life, she had long ago decided, was unutterably dull.

  So it came to her surprise when she was informed she would no longer be needed at Freeman’s department store. There were always prettier, talented, more qualified girls to work the store and spruce up the general atmosphere. A new direction for a new age, she was told. And that new age did not include the likes of her.

  That was what brought her to take the first step. To be exact, it was that and the upping of the next month’s rent.

  “But Mrs. MacDonough, I’ll get a new job soon, ma’am. If you just give me a little more time, I can pay you what I owe.”

  Cora’s mind drifted to an earlier conversation she had with her landlord, Mrs. MacDonough, a stout and rather stern Irish woman who rented out her building to all sorts, mostly immigrants and newcomers into the city.

  “Aye, Co-ra, I can’t be bothered’ with ye all the time,” she bustled across the hallway carrying a basket of her linens, and Cora traced after her.

  “Ye never bring yer rent on time,” the woman continued in her thick accent. “And on top o’ that, I hear ye been sacked from Freeman’s this mornin’.”

  “You already know about that?” Cora followed behind.

  Mrs. MacDonough stopped and sighed as she waved her finger toward Cora’s face.

  “Now lookee, Miss, I can’t be competin’ like I do with all the other landlords around. There’re plenty of others who need a place, jus’ as much as you. And they deserve it every bit, too. And they’re also in dire straits for an opportunity”

  “But…”

  “No buts, Cora. I’m broken hearted as much as you, but that’s jus’ life, it is.”

  It was a miserable few months following. Cora moved into a dingy hostel in Brooklyn, making her way with measly compensation at a butcher’s shop. The boss didn’t much like the idea of hiring a young woman for such a job, but Cora insisted she could just as easily pick it up. It didn’t mean that the work was pleasant.

  One day, she made her way out from a long shift, after having cleaned the back room, her clothes smelling like raw meat, her boots wet after hosing off the blood. She was headed down a street she headed down every day. Took the same turns, watched the same faces walk past. Everything was quite the same. That is, until a certain leaflet from a newspaper caught her eye. It seemed positively serendipitous. A stray page, a gust of wind, and soon she was staring at an ad that seem
ed to be shouting directly at her.

  Wanted: Young woman of intelligence, refined, and possessing means. Gentleman landowner seeking a match of high pedigree. Must be willing to relocate at short notice.

  At first Cora laughed. The idea of being a mail-order bride certainly seemed like an odd one, like from a story in a magazine or a tale that old grandparents tell. But Cora was sure of one thing: she had no family, no ties, and no where to go but up.

  Besides, she reasoned, it really is quite the romantic story.

  Cora nestled herself onto the seat, sliding herself against the window as the locomotive wheezed, her wheels beginning to make the heaving creak out of the station. The ticket master came and punched her ticket, and her insides leapt with excitement as the view outside begin to whir past, the loud whistle sounding, the steady churn of the wheels matching to the rhythm in her own heart.

  This is it, she reminded herself. This is my new start.

  From here on out, Cora imagined life going by without a hitch. Well, perhaps there was one small fly in that ointment. There were, after all, a few...liberties...Cora had taken to grab the opportunity before it escaped.

  The end justifies the means, she told herself.

  Besides, in her eyes, Cora Sutton deserved just as much a happy ending as Mistress Cora LeBlanc, the wealthy and debonair young aristocrat aboard the Lil’ Miss, on her way to meet the man she’ll marry.

  Chapter 2

  “Expecting a shipment this afternoon, Mr. Dansby?”

  The mustached outpost manager tipped his hat toward the tall and dark Joshua Dansby. Mr. Dansby tipped his hat toward the man, his other hand tucked neatly into his suited pocket.

  “Nothing big, Mr. Stanfield. Waiting for a person, actually. Not a shipment.”

  Mr. Stanfield raised an eyebrow, but kept his words to himself. No sense in poking into the affairs of a man as private as Joshua Dansby, or at least as private a man could be in his position. Mr. Stanfield looked at the stopwatch in his hand, and dropped it into his front vest pocket, and made his way into the station house.

  Joshua Dansby leaned toward the rail, the balls of his feet bouncing on the wooden boardwalk of the outpost. It was a rather overcast day, but generally clear sights as far as one could make out. He kept looking impatiently toward the sky, as if somehow he could discern from the clouds or the breeze the distance of the oncoming train, or hear faintly the loud whistle of the Lil’ Miss making her way into the outpost. No such luck.

  Mr. Dansby stopped his movements and straightened his suit coat. Moving so much would make him seem nervous, and in fact it served to actually make him nervous, if not for just a moment.

  There’s nothing to be nervous about, he reminded himself.

  It was unconventional for the both of them. He never really anticipated being one of those type of men who would place an ad out East to find a wife. But there were extraneous circumstances out of his control, and if he was going to take matters back into his own hands…

  He cleared his throat and walked toward the station house. He removed his hat, the coolness from being under the awning shadowing his dark brown hair.

  “Mr. Stanfield, correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t the Lil’ Miss supposed to have come in over an hour ago?”

  Mr. Stanfield stood upright and checked at his pocket watch, then at a chart along the wooden panel wall of the station house.

  “That’s correct, Mr. Dansby. It is quite odd that she’s not as on time as she usually is...but perhaps the weather hit them first and has slowed them down.”

  “Weather,” Joshua Dansby echoed.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Joshua Dansby sighed and fixed his hat once again atop his head.

  “Is there something I can do for you?”

  Mr. Dansby draped off his suit coat and handed it through the station house window toward a surprised Mr. Stanfield.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Dansby, I don’t know what you mean--”

  “Just hold on to it for a while,” Joshua made haste down the outpost steps, calling out with a waved hand. “I’ll be back in a bit. Get ahold of the Sheriff.” And to himself, he said in a low, hushed tone, “I’ve got a bad feeling.”

  A stunned Mr. Stanfield merely stuttered a “Y-y-yes, sir.” before Joshua Dansby had fled from the site.

  He approached the buggy he arrived in, with his horse, Kan, enjoying the overgrown yellow-green grasses nearby. Joshua untied the reins and slung himself atop his horse.

  Leaving the buggy behind, the broad shouldered man took off into the distance. The clouds seemed to be gathering faster, and darker, and Joshua Dansby continued headlong beside the tracks, Eastward.

  This is impossible, Cora thought to herself as she ducked breathlessly into her coach cabin.

  A scream and some shouts filled the passenger car in front of her. There weren’t many in her own car, but she could hear murmurs and worried rustling in the cabins beside her. They heard it too.

  She had read of stories of bandits and seen news clippings of railway robbers, but nowhere had she accounted for the possibility of it ever really happening. And especially not to her.

  The Lil’ Miss had come to a complete standstill about three and a half miles out from the post. A pretty daring proximity to town for a band of robbers in the Western territory.

  There were more shouts and rustling coming from the cabin before her. Probably looting the passengers. If they were like any of the smart bands of thieves she read about in books, no doubt some were going through the cargo hold at the tail-end of the train, mounting what they could onto their getaway buggies. The others were slowly making their way through the cabins, scaring the passengers into giving up their on-hand possessions.

  Cora smirked. Good thing I’ve got nothing worth stealing.

  It wasn’t the best thing to necessarily be proud of.

  The footsteps and sounds came closer. Cora had to think fast.

  She quickly checked that her boots were laced tightly, and with an air of rather unlady-like behavior, brought her dress into a knotted tie at her waist.

  I can’t very well make a getaway with this cumbersome number, she smiled to herself. She had to admit. The thrill of the adventure was quite a rush.

  Much better than sewing hat boxes, she thought to herself.

  Baring open the cabin window, Cora peeked out, and up toward the roof.

  Looks like rain.

  A light breeze wafted its way past, lifting at some stray strands that became untucked from her braided hair. For a moment, she thought she heard the sound of horse hooves in the distance, but she brushed off the idea as her imagination once again getting carried away. In the city, there were so many sounds and sights that rarely did anything jump out in particular. Everything melded together after a while. But out in the country, with such vast expanses of quiet, each noise was something new to her, and entirely unfamiliar.

  There was a slight rim siding below the window of the car. If she could scale along the rim as a step, perhaps she would be able to get down and…

  What then? Cora could at least hide until the bandits passed, maybe summoned for help somehow. They weren’t to be too far from their destination anyway…

  She could work out the details later. For now, the thrill awaited.

  Cora propped herself, though rather clumsily, at the sill, and over, her hands keeping at the window sill, and using her feet to prop against the outside wall of the car as she slowly felt for the rim below her. When her boot’s toe caught on, she heaved a sigh.

  But then the unthinkable began to happen. A loud wheezing sounded from far ahead the train, as if the brakes…

  “Oh no,” Cora mumbled.

  The train began to move. Had the robbers decided on a faster getaway? And were they taking everyone along with them?

  As Cora began to feel a sudden panic, the sound of horse hooves once again broke up her thoughts. It really was the sound of hooves. They were gaining closer, against the train as
it began to gain speed. It was near.

  “Oof!” Cora felt a sudden wrench at her waist, a strong arm draping across and lurching her off the side of the train car. She soon found herself draped across a galloping horse like a sack of flour. Her sides buffeted against the saddle uncomfortably.

  “It’s alright, ma’am, I’ve got you.”

  The smooth, deep sound of a man’s voice made Cora instantly grow hot in the face.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Cora continued to shout at the unknown assailant while trying to maintain her balance. “No one just yanks on a lady like that and--and slings her over your horse like some potato sack!”

  The man laughed. “A lady wouldn’t be caught dead sporting that particular style, Miss. I can guarantee that.”

  She attempted to pull down at her dress, suddenly conscious of her underthings showing, but her current position demanded that she hold on.

  “Don’t look, you disgusting man!”

  He laughed again.

  “I’m not interested in your type,” he shouted.

  Cora grew more furious. Was he entertained in all this?

  “And what--what exactly--” she hiccuped between words, and braced herself against the jostling of the saddle. “What type am I exactly?”

  The man pulled on the reins and gave a steadying “whoa” to his horse as they came to a stop, the train now out of site, barreling toward the station, with the intent to ride on past, no doubt.

  Cora welcomed the steadiness, and relaxed for a brief moment, soon interrupted by the man’s low, mocking laugh.

  “The type who tries to make a clean break out the side of a train during a heist,” he said. Cora’s face grew hot at the amusement in his voice. “That’s a strange kind of woman I want nothing to do with.”