She was waiting for him on the porch.
His mind like a dry wheat field on fire, thoughts churning and melding before he could fully process them, he’d ridden without thought to his surroundings. Fortunately, Galahad knew the way home. After settling him in the barn, Grant trudged across the short grass, his tread heavy on the steps.
She stood off to his right, using the railing for support.
“Will went home.”
A sign of good faith. “You waited up to tell me that?”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she scoffed.
He climbed another step. Moonlight washed her features in dreamlike radiance, her unbound hair like crimson waves of silk. She was still in her traveling clothes, the scooped-neck blouse with flowing sleeves tucked into a plain navy blue skirt. She looked like a prim schoolteacher in the outfit. Funny. Jessica was anything but prim.
“Couldn’t sleep, then?” he said, his arms too empty without her in them.
“Something like that.”
He reached the top step. “Well, I’m exhausted.” If he lingered, he wasn’t sure he’d make wise decisions. “I’m going to bed.”
Jessica was suddenly blocking his way. Face lifted, eyes troubled, she fisted her hands at her sides. “You hurt me. More than I can express.”
He bowed his head. “I know, and I’m sorry. I should never have said what I did.”
A soft sigh shimmered between them. “That’s the thing, Grant. It’s not in your nature to lash out. Something happened between the time we said good-night last night and this morning. I want to know what it was.”
After everything she’d done for him, he owed her an explanation. The word would eventually get out, anyway.
Meeting her searching gaze, he said, “I discovered valuables in my bag. Deliberately stashed in the lining.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. “What sort of valuables?”
He described the pieces. “There’s too much for it to have come from one source.”
Understanding dawned. “You took them to Shane, didn’t you? That’s where you’ve been?”
“He’s going to store them at the bank until he finds out more.” He kneaded his stiff neck muscles to keep from reaching out to her. The need to hold her was like a fire in his blood. “I’ll understand if you want me to find another place to stay.”
“No.” She shook her head, moonlight glimmering in her locks. “No. I don’t want you to leave.” Before he could guess what she was about, she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into him. “You’re innocent, Grant.”
Her lips grazed the sensitive skin above his collar. He shivered. Not from the drop in air temperature, but because of her soft curves, her sweet, sweet scent, her overwhelming faith in his goodness. Resting his hands on either side of her waist, his cheek skimmed hers before he buried his face in her hair.
“I hate myself for hurting you.”
Her fingers danced along his nape, explored the breadth of his upper back. “It’s okay. It’s forgotten.”
“I was cruel, and that’s not okay.”
Shifting, forcing him to lift his head, she framed his roughened cheeks. Her palms were cool, soothing. “I forgive you.”
He swallowed hard. “Jessica.”
His inner voice of reason muted, he mirrored her stance, skimming trembling fingers over her pronounced cheekbones and the smooth curve of her jaw. Her gaze locked on to his. There was an absence of fear in her. No hesitation. Only a shared awe of what was unfurling between them.
Settling his hand beneath her hair, he cupped her nape and dipped his head. He brushed his mouth against hers once. “I don’t want to hurt you ever again,” he murmured, struggling to rein in emotions threatening to boil over.
She exhaled, her warm breath mingling with his as she tunneled her fingers into his hair. “I trust you, Grant.”
Her words were a gift. One he didn’t deserve.
When he didn’t move, adrift in an impossible internal battle, she tugged his head down. Her kiss was tentative, searching. Any lingering doubts scattered like dandelion seeds on the wind. A rumbling sound of surrender vibrating in his throat, he crushed her to him, holding her fast. Her embrace was purity and joy and hope, and he clung to those ideals with a hint of desperation.
I can never leave her.
They each possessed what the other required. When he was fire, she cooled him. When she was angry, he mellowed her. They balanced each other.
You promised not to hurt her. What will she do if you’re already committed to someone else?
It was as if a bucket of ice had pelted him. Jerking away, his breathing ragged, he stared at her kiss-swollen lips and mussed hair.
“We can’t do this.”
She didn’t fight him. Sorrow stole over her and, hugging her middle, she looked lost. “Because of your past? Or because of me? Because of my poor judgment with Lee?”
“No!” Gripping her shoulders, he shook his head. “Don’t start questioning yourself again.” He gentled his hold. “You and I both know the future isn’t mine to do with what I please. Not until I get answers.”
Worrying her lower lip, she slowly nodded.
“I might never be free of the past. And I won’t ask you to wait for answers that may never come.”
“You’re right. This can’t happen again.” Backing away from him, she edged toward the door. “Good night, Grant.”
Head held high, she left him alone in the inescapable solitude of night, once again asking God why and getting no answer in return.
* * *
Jessica squared her shoulders and entered the Plum Café. It was the first time she’d been in since the new owner so ruthlessly and abruptly canceled her and Jane’s agreement. She really wasn’t in the mood to see him today. Glancing around the eatery, which was practically devoid of customers midafternoon, she spotted Caroline’s elegant form in the far corner, along with two other girls on the committee.
Winding her way through the tables, she greeted them. Caroline’s china cup clinked against the saucer. “Thanks for agreeing to join us on short notice.”
Pauline and Laura looked up from the ribbons fanned across the linen tablecloth.
Jessica sank into the last empty chair. “Why aren’t we doing this at your house?”
“Mother is having the parlor repapered.”
“I thought she had it done last year.”
“Oh, she did.” Her smile was brittle. “She found one she liked better.”
Laura sighed. “Must be nice, getting whatever you want.”
Pauline nudged her in the ribs and shushed her.
Caroline shrugged. “And yet, she’s never satisfied.”
The waitress emerged from the kitchen to take Jessica’s order. Curious to test their desserts for herself, she ordered a slice of their spice cake and hot tea. When the waitress had gone, the other girls snickered. “Wasted money, if you ask me,” Pauline said.
“It can’t be that bad.”
Laura leaned forward and spoke in hushed tones. “Pa ate their chess pie last week and was sick to his stomach the whole night long.”
“Are you sure it was the pie and not something else he ate?” Caroline added more sugar to her tea and stirred with delicate strokes. “Their original cook quit. The food isn’t near as good as it used to be. I wish Mrs. Greene would come back.”
Winding the string around the ribbon in her hand, Pauline addressed Jessica. “I saw your guest working at the livery yesterday. You didn’t mention how handsome he is. The sweat and bits of straw clinging to his clothes didn’t detract from his appeal one bit.”
Jessica cut her gaze to the huge window overlooking Main Street, scrambling for an appropriate response. Four days later, his kiss still dominated her thoughts. His position at the livery had proved a blessing. Being around him was suddenly a lesson in restraint, a test of her resolve. She’d liked him before the camping expedition. Her feelings had gone beyond friendship since then, and not simply because of what had transpired on her porch Sunday night. Because of Grant, the guilt and shame she’d been carrying around was dissipating. His insightful, straightforward advice had shaken her out of her skewed thinking.
The day Grant wandered onto her property, she’d questioned God’s purpose in bringing another trial into her life. Like Job in the Old Testament, she’d demanded answers of the One who’d created the universe and everything in it. And, while God hadn’t owed her a single answer, she’d been granted insight—Grant’s arrival had forced her to look beyond her own troubled world and consider someone else’s feelings, freeing her from the mire of the past and her own self-absorption.
There was a downside to this freedom.
Where her heart had been locked away in an impenetrable shell, impervious to plunder, it was now exposed and pliable and vulnerable. And it craved a man who was unattainable. A man who could prove to be her ultimate downfall.
Which is why you’ll exercise caution, an inner voice reasoned. You will let common sense rule. You will not ruin the rest of your life by falling for the wrong man.
“I haven’t seen him.” Laura pouted. “What’s he like?”
Jessica remained quiet as Pauline described him. Tiny sprouts of jealousy poked holes in her composure. She had no right. He wasn’t hers to be jealous over.
Her tea and dessert arrived then, saving her from making inane comments about Grant’s appeal. The first bite proved the rumors true. The cake was stale, the raisins chewy instead of plump and soft and the icing had a salty twang.
Hurriedly washing away the taste with bracing liquid, she felt three pairs of eyes on her.
Caroline wore a smug expression. “See?”
“That’s horrible.” Jessica poked the dense cake. “Does the man have no concept of good food?”
“The owner’s pretty elusive. Hard to tell what he thinks.”
Grant’s prediction may prove to be right. She couldn’t imagine anyone happy to pay for such poor quality. Scooting aside her plate, she went to work on the ribbons. The conversation turned to the harvest fair and the long list of tasks to accomplish beforehand. Jessica listened with half an ear, preoccupied with a decision she’d delayed long enough.
Once she’d paid for her uneaten dessert, she bade the women good day and headed for the mercantile. The bell announced her arrival. Quinn paused in his sweeping of the aisles.
“Jessica.” His smile was warm. “What’s brought you in today? If you’re looking for Nicole, she’s in the back trying to get Violet to sleep.”
Violet was their young daughter, who, with her black hair and bright eyes, promised to be a beauty like her mother. A pang of wistfulness gripped her. She was the only one in her family who was still unmarried. No loving spouse or infants to lavish her affection upon.
“I’m actually here to see you.”
“Oh?” Leaning the broom against the counter, he folded his arms and waited.
“I’ve been mulling over your offer—the one where I use your shelf space to sell my desserts—and I’d like to do it. If you’re still open to the idea.”
“Come to my office, and you can sign the paperwork.”
Surprised, she blurted, “You’ve got it written up?”
“Jess,” he said patiently, “I’ve been waiting for you to agree for months. Your desserts will sell, guaranteed.”
“I don’t want to sell by the slice. It’s the whole thing, or nothing.”
“Sounds reasonable,” he tossed over his shoulder.
“And I want to start with cakes only, at first. I can add pies later, depending on the response.”
“You’re the boss, baker lady.” He flashed a grin.
Inside his small office, she scanned the single paper he retrieved from his desk drawer. “This doesn’t say anything about your percentage.”
“I don’t require any.”
“You’re running a business, Quinn. I can’t accept special treatment simply because I’m your sister-in-law.”
“It’s because you are my sister-in-law that you deserve it.”
While she appreciated that his intentions came from a good place, she couldn’t accept his terms. She replaced the paper on the desk, unsigned. “It wouldn’t be fair.”
His face screwed up in an adorably boyish fashion. “How about five percent of the profits?”
“Ten percent.”
He cocked his head, a lock of inky-black hair sliding forward making him look endearing. “Do you want your sister to make my life miserable? Because she has her ways.”
This coaxed a laugh out of her. “Fine. Five percent.” He slapped a pen in her hand. She signed her name. It was official. She was a businesswoman once again.
I’ll be up to my elbows in flour and sugar for the foreseeable future, too busy baking to think about Grant.
“Get your ledger out,” she ordered. “I’ve got shopping to do.”