“Sit here.” He squatted in front of her and studied her face. “I’ll be back shortly” His voice seemed to be coming from a distance, yet he was right in front of her.
It seemed like forever before he returned, pushing a mug of tea toward her. “Miss Stanton? Emily?” He watched her every move. “Drink this.”
She reached out and took the proffered beverage. It tasted good, sweet. She stared at him over the rim of the mug.
“You’ve had a nasty shock,” he said quietly. “The tea will help.” He squatted down in front of her again, and ensured she drank every drop.
He was right, she did feel better, but the reality of what happened was finally sinking in. She could feel tears brimming in her eyes, and she fought with all her might, until finally she let them run free.
Patrick Harper pulled her close and let her cry on his shoulder. What was it about this man that made her feel vulnerable and special all at the same time?
Chapter Three
Patrick began to prepare breakfast, but Emily couldn’t let him do it alone.
He’d been amazing. No one had ever stood up for her like that before. But then, she’d never been accosted like that before.
She’d had a few of the gents make lewd comments and she’d brushed them aside. But none had ever become physical with her – until now.
Would it happen again? She shivered.
“I can manage if you want to rest.” He studied her until she pulled her gaze away. “I can make a hot meal with the best of them.” His grin lit up his face, and it made her feel better.
He’d pulled the mugs down from the cupboard and placed them on the center counter for her. Probably didn’t want a repeat of earlier. The mugs had shattered beyond recognition, and Patrick had kindly cleared away the mess.
She reached for her apron and began to tie it behind her back. “Here, let me.” His gentle voice matched his gentle touch, and Emily’s heart thudded in her chest.
She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Thank you. It’s been a difficult day.” She closed her eyes tight. If she let them, her tears would flow again.
Emily had never been a crier, but this morning’s episode had left her petrified. How would she cope with Aaron Jasper living here?
His hands cupped her shoulders and her pulled her back against him. She molded into him. “Just so you know, Mr Jasper is leaving right after breakfast.”
“But…”
“You’re not safe with him around. I’ll willingly pay his next week’s rent.”
She spun around to face him. “Seriously?” Money wasn’t the issue here, it was the gesture. No one had ever stood up for her before, nor had they made such a generous offer.
“Seriously.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out some notes, but she pushed his hands away.
She looked him up and down. What kind of man was this who stood before her? Most of her lodgers kept their distance. They barely spoke a word, and the main time she saw them was when they were in the dining room eating.
It was a good arrangement, and one she reveled in. That way she had no attachment to any of them.
But this lodger was different. Patrick Harper was different. He was a true gentleman, and she could easily get used to him.
“If you make the toast, I’ll cook the bacon and eggs.” He already had the pan heating, and she threw in enough bacon for everyone. She reached for the skillet and put that on to heat as well.
She glanced across to see Patrick had the toast under control and had set out the plates ready for the food.
It felt as though she was under scrutiny as she cracked more than a dozen eggs into the skillet. By the time the food was cooked, Patrick had all the toast buttered, and the coffees made.
“You’ve done this before?” She was taken aback. Not many men were skilled in the kitchen.
A small smile crossed his face. “My father was a baker and the whole family pitched in. I am not the best cook around, but I can get by.”
She reached out and covered his hand with her own. “Thank you. You’ve been a tremendous help.”
They loaded the tray with the filled plates, and Patrick carried them into the dining room. All eyes turned their way. Except for Aaron Jasper. He turned his head in the opposite direction as they entered the room.
She could feel anger filling her senses, and tried to damp it down. One look at Patrick and she felt better. He was there by her side, and would ensure she was safe.
But what was she to do when he left? There was no way to predict the behavior of her lodgers. That had been proven with Aaron Jasper. He’d been here for about two weeks, and not a peep from him.
Then suddenly…this.
Patrick placed food in front of the offending man, then positioned a heavy hand on his shoulder. Mr Jasper stared up at him. She watched as Patrick leaned in and whispered something. The man stared ahead and nodded.
It was then Emily caught a glimpse out the corner of her eye. His suitcase sat ready for him to pick it up and leave.
The coffees were distributed and the pair took their place at the table. Patrick led the prayer of thanks, and included Emily in his words. It made her feel somewhat comforted.
She had prayed for help for such a long time, and finally her prayers had been answered.
* * *
Measurements in hand and Emily by his side, Patrick headed for the saw mill office. He would eventually be working with the owner, so why not introduce himself now?
He glanced across at the frail-looking woman by his side. It was apparent she was still shaken by the mornings event.
He was still fuming at the actions of that monster. Patrick had never come so close to hitting another man.
Rage burned inside of him. Aaron Jasper was lucky he hadn’t been thrown out at that very moment. Or reported to the sheriff. He’d pleaded with Patrick to at least let him gather his possessions.
He’d suddenly felt bad for the man, but not bad enough to risk another attack on Emily.
He stole a quick glance and noticed her features had softened. He reached up and patted her hand.
She had balked at venturing out when she had so much to do, but admitted to enjoying their stroll the previous night. Besides, she did need to visit the Mercantile today.
“This is it,” she said quietly. They went inside and waited for assistance.
The Saw Mill owner, Daniel Carson, introduced himself and was more than happy to meet them both. He noted the measurements and promised to deliver the order by the end of the week.
He would supply the timber at a good price, since they could mostly use offcuts from other timber orders they fulfilled during the week. A perk resulting from Patrick being the new carpenter in town.
They stepped outside and headed toward the Mercantile. They ambled along the walkway in silence.
Patrick had never been one for the ladies – he’d been more focused on his career. Besides, he’d never met anyone that interested him.
That changed the moment he met Emily Stanton. There was something about her that drew him in.
He leaned into her.
The lavender water she wore permeated his senses. But that wasn’t the thing that drew him to her. He wasn’t really certain what it was.
He stared at the businesses across the road. “Why don’t we indulge ourselves?” He pointed toward the diner that stood out above all the other buildings.
She turned to him and smiled. “That would be nice. I haven’t been there for such a long time.”
They crossed the dirt road and headed toward the building. The word “Diner” was painted in big red letters across the large glass panel. Underneath, in smaller letters, it said “Proprietor: E. Baker”.
Patrick opened the door for her and they were greeted by an older woman. “Good morning, Emily,” she said warmly, then glanced across at Patrick.
“Who is this handsome young man?” She raised her eyebrows quizzically.
Emily giggled. “Mrs
Baker, let me introduce Mr Patrick Harper.” The older woman reached out her hand to him. “He’s going to work with Sawdust Harry.”
Mrs Baker pursed her lips. “Poor Harry. He is such a gentleman, and to be nicknamed in such a way…” She shuddered.
Emily giggled again. He was beginning to enjoy the sound of her laughter.
“A table for two?” Instead of waiting for an answer, they were led to a table near the fireplace. Not that the fire was going, because it wasn’t.
He glanced across at it curiously. Why take them there specifically?
She must have read his mind because Mrs Baker suddenly said, “I thought it would be quieter for you here.”
He looked about – they were the only customers. “It won’t be long and the luncheon crowd will arrive.” Before he could question her further, Mrs Baker was gone.
She returned a short time later with two menus. Emily waved it away. “Just a coffee for me please, Mrs Baker.”
He glanced across at the far-too-thin woman sitting opposite him. “Two coffees and… do you have cake?”
“Today we have carrot cake and blueberry muffins.”
He glanced across at Emily. She shook her head. “Two slices of carrot cake please.”
A small smile graced the lips of Mrs Baker moments before she left. He could see she was going to be supportive when needed. And frankly, it didn’t bother him.
Emily was decidedly thin – it seemed apparent she’d run herself ragged in that boarding house. The main reason, from what he’d observed in the short time he’d been there, was the reluctance of the other lodgers to help out.
For the measly few dollars they were paying each week, they expected to make a slave of her. They would pay far more to rent a house!
Indignancy washed over him. How dare those men expect more of Emily than she was capable of doing.
He glanced across as he felt her soft, warm hand slip over his work-roughened hand. “You look upset.” She squeezed his hand, and it sent tingles running through his veins.
Patrick stiffened. The whole situation angered him. “It’s those lodgers. They treat you like a slave.”
She patted his hand. “It’s fine. Please don’t worry.”
Mrs Baker arrived with a tray of food and beverages before he could say what he truly felt.
Emily glanced up at her. “Thank you,” she said quietly.
The older woman grinned at her. “I expect you to eat every crumb of that cake. Patrick is right – you are far too thin.”
“I didn’t…” Did he? He didn’t think he’d said the words out loud.
She tapped her temple with her fingers. “I’m a mind-reader from way back.” She grinned as she picked up the tray and disappeared again.
Emily took a sip of her coffee and stared at him over the rim of her cup. “I’m not you know,” she said, taking another sip.
He shook his head in confusion. “You’re not what?”
“Too thin.” She put the cup down onto the saucer and wiped her tempting lips with the linen napkin next to her. She lifted an arm to show him. “I’m thin-boned. Mother always said I was.” She lifted the cup to her lips again.
He reached out to touch her arm. He knew he shouldn’t, but did it anyway. Before his hand connected, she pulled her arm away. Was she hiding something, or was she simply acting according to social propriety?
As she stared at him, Patrick tried to ignore his thundering heart. He’d never felt so smitten with a woman before, and he sure as heck didn’t want to now.
He’d come here to do a job. And that was to build houses and stores to expand this great city.
That’s exactly what he would do. In the meantime he would have as little to do with Emily Stanton as possible.
Only it was too late. She had already made her way into his very being. And into his heart.
He was beginning to understand how his brother, Ethan, had become so enamored with his new wife, despite only having known her for a matter of days.
“Eat your cake,” he said gently. It might only be cake, but she needed nourishment to build her up. He wondered if she’d been skipping meals in order to care for her selfish lodgers.
He certainly hoped not.
When they finished their refreshments, she was keen to leave. “I have a lot to do,” she said firmly as they stood. “Do you mind if we call to the Mercantile?”
He didn’t. After all, they were heading there when he’d spotted the diner. After paying the bill, he accompanied her to the store. He looked about while she got her few supplies. He glanced up in time to notice her picking out a new gown.
“That color will look good on you,” he said, his eyes roaming the lilac gingham gown. He spotted a matching bonnet and snatched it up. She frowned. “My gift to you,” he said gently.
She still frowned. “Then I shall leave the gown.”
“Then I shall buy the gown as well.”
She fairly glared at him.
He laughed. “So what shall it be, Miss Stanton?”
She snatched up the gown in annoyance and headed to the counter with the gown and two loaves of fresh bread for luncheon. Patrick followed but she demanded the bonnet be added to her account.
Chapter Four
The nerve of the man! How dare he call her too thin. And how dare he try to buy her gifts without her permission.
Her arm reluctantly linked through his, she walked stiffly back home.
He glanced across and patted her hand. “You’re not still mad at me, are you?” He grinned as he said the words.
She glared at him. “Yes.” It came out much more forceful than she’d intended, but at least it would get her point across.
“Dear Miss Stanton,” he said, patting her hand again like she was a dog that needed consoling. “I don’t know why you have such an issue with me wanting to buy you an inexpensive gift.” He frowned at her. “I truly love that color gown you bought. It brings out the color in your eyes.”
She pursed her lips. “I doubt it – my eyes are brown.”
“Then perhaps it was the color of your skin.” This time he unabashedly grinned.
He looked down at the brown paper bag holding the despised item. “It is really such a bad thing that I wanted to buy a small gift for you?”
Patrick looked truly confused. And annoyed.
He honestly didn’t know?
“It is what it represents that is the problem,” she said harshly.
“I don’t understand.” They stood at the edge of the walkway before turning onto the alleyway.
She swallowed before answering. “What you might…expect of me in exchange for the gift.” She refused to look into his face, and turned her head away. She felt the heat creep into her cheeks.
“Oh my Lord,” he said, obviously distressed. “It means nothing of the sort.” He paced the street, back and forth, until she reached out and grabbed his arm. “Is that what you think?”
He looked hurt, and pain crossed his features.
She shook her head. “You’re not like that. But others may not see it that way.” She opened the bag and glanced inside. “It is a lovely bonnet though.” She smiled hesitantly.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out enough coins to cover the cost of the contentious item. Patrick dropped them into the bag.
She pursed her lips again.
“No-one knows but us two. And I promise, I expect nothing of you.” He looped his arm through hers once more, and before she had a chance to protest, he lead her toward home.
Emily headed straight for the kitchen where she deposited the loaves of bread.
Patrick followed her. “I’ll put this door back where it belongs so it’s not in your way,” he said, lifting the cupboard door from the counter top.
She nodded then left the room to put the gown away. As she opened the wardrobe door to hang it up she squealed. The rickety door almost fell off its hinges. It had been a problem before, but this time it looked to be beyon
d redemption.
Would Patrick mind fixing it for her? Probably not, but could she risk having him in her private quarters?
It was a question she would have to ponder.
She slipped into the bathroom where she freshened up. Emily stared at herself in the mirror. She traced the edges of her face.
Despite her anger of this morning, she looked more relaxed.
Patrick Harper had done that to her. She really liked him, but what about her rule? The ‘no relationship with lodgers’ rule?
She shook herself as she continued to stare. Who was she trying to fool? They didn’t have a relationship – they’d only just met.
“You’re an idiot,” she said under her breath, then walked away.
* * *
The men had all piled into the dining room, waiting for their luncheon. Most of them had worked in the morning, and would have recently arrived home according to Emily.
They sat around the table and stared at Patrick who stood then glanced across at Emily. “There are going to be some changes,” he said firmly.
There were faint mumbles.
“As of today, you will get your own sandwiches. Miss Stanton will lay out the fillings in the kitchen and you will help yourself.”
The murmurs got louder. “The same will apply to those of you who take a cut lunch during the week.”
“What!”
“You can’t do that!”
Patrick spoke again, but had to talk louder this time. “You will also pour your own coffee at each meal.”
“We pay for that service!”
“You just got here. Who made you boss?”
Patrick put his hand up to stop the complaints. “Take a good look at Miss Stanton. She is unwell – you have all run her into the ground. If you don’t stop treating her like a slave, there will be no lodgings available.”
They all stopped dead in their tracks knowing they’d be in a dire situation without this boarding house and its beyond low rent. One, then another man pushed back his chair and headed toward the kitchen without another word of complaint. The others followed.
Patrick trailed them, grabbing Emily’s hand and taking her with him. “One at a time. And don’t be pigs,” he said. “There’s plenty of food.”
Emily Page 3