Brighter Tomorrows by Beverly Wells Page B

watching this plot unfold.
    He’d be underfoot —he’d be out most of the time. It’d be inconvenient to fix him three meals —she had to eat anyway. He was far too handsome to have around —she was profoundly immune to any good-for-nothing species of the male gender with their overly-excitable libidos, a viper’s tongue, and mush for brains.
    As exciting and tempting as it sounded, she curbed her adventurous side. “Marshal, I’d like to help you, but I don’t see how you can stay—”
    “I believe I can stay here very easily, Miss Lynch.” The slight grin before blossomed into an incredible smile. Her heart might be hardened, but she definitely appreciated the raw sensuality of this man. No man alive should be this attractive…
    “But—”
    “No buts about it.” He leaned forward. “I’ll shoot straight with you. Don’t mind paint odor, tarps, and I’m willin’ to fix my meals or offer a hand to help. If I ate at the restaurant or café all the time, someone might wonder. I’ll stay out of your way, and with any luck, I’ll be on my way within a week. And I will pay you double for the trouble. What do you say?”
    Silence hung in the air as she lost herself in his incredible eyes. His handsome face, square chin, broad shoulders and wavy black hair weren’t bad, either. As far as his trying to charm her?  Trusting a man or having faith in him enough to open her heart was as farfetched as her jumping over the moon. It would not happen.
    “What do you say, Miss Lynch?”
    “Since you’re paying double, I’ll cook your meals. They’ll be filling and wholesome, but they’ll be simple. As far as meal times, we can decide each morning, depending on our schedules, if you like. My barn only holds my horse and wagon. The stall is fairly big and Freedom is a sweetie, but I don’t believe she’d share space. Is that a problem?”
    He pushed back his chair and stood, and darn if that smidgeon of a grin didn’t make her smile. “I knew I could count on you.  Sounds fine. The livery will be fine.” He stood tall and straight like a towering pine. “By the way, as Jonathan Tate from Texas, I’m a land speculator and investor lookin’ to buy parcels or invest in potential enterprises. I’ll grab lunch at the café, then see David Millett and his deputy before checkin’ around. I can grab supper tonight at the restaurant, if it’s too much bother.”
    She admired his large hands as he fingered the rim of his Stetson.  His suit coat gave him a business-like appearance, while the denims hugged his thick thighs. “I’ll bake a chicken. You do like chicken?”
    “I like anything as long as it doesn’t move or talk back. What time’s supper?”
    She calculated the time to finish upstairs, fix supper, and look half-way clean and presentable. “How’s six-thirty or seven?”
    “Let’s say seven.” With that, he turned and strode across the porch, down the three steps, and across the front lawn to where he untied his big, chestnut gelding at the hitching rail. Lithely, he mounted and glanced her way. “See you at seven, Miss Lynch.”
    ♥ ♥ ♥
    The café’s greasy beef stew wasn’t so bad as long as he reminisced about his meeting with Callie. Pretty thing, even covered in paint splatters. He chuckled as he pictured her looking in a mirror. Would she blush when she saw green smudges on her face? Or howl when she saw her rat’s nest?
    He sipped his coffee. Though he knew he’d never love again, he still appreciated a lovely woman. He admired her direct attitude, her gumption. He liked that she hadn’t batted her eyes or acted coy. When females flaunted themselves, he ran as fast as his legs or horse could carry him.
    ♥ ♥ ♥
    Securing the reins in front of the Hotel Royale, Chase peered across the stoop. He nodded to the man leaning against building.  Matt Tremayne’s lanky six foot frame belied his rough, tough persona while his fair features and persistent smile gave his recruit