Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 180(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 180(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
“You’re looking lovely tonight.”
His look was expectant and she hid her annoyance. “You’re very handsome as well.”
As she anticipated, he preened and puffed out his chest even more. In her eyes, he still fell short. Moreover, to her knowledge everyone would for they just couldn’t begin to compare to Cy.
She hadn’t lied that day—that last day—when he’d taken her in the stable. Idiot that she was she’d gone and fallen in love with him the former solider turned station manager.
Then she told him. Not her best moment.
“What do you think?” Anson touched her arm as he asked.
Great. While she’d been daydreaming about Cy, this one had been talking. “Umm.”
“Just a stroll through town, Rebecca. That’s all.”
“Sure.” She could do that. Besides, just because he didn’t make her legs weak, heart race, or breathing go out of control didn’t mean she couldn’t accompany him.
“I’ll be by for you at eight.”
“See you then.”
The smile on her face hurt by the time she finished dealing with her last customer for the day. Cleaning up, she regretted agreeing to this thing with Anson. She did her chores then washed up and took her tired body inside. Everything ached and she longed to simply take herself to bed.
It didn’t make sense, I did more than this riding and I wasn’t this sore.
It was true, with the rides, the cooking, the hard life out there at the station, she would have sworn she’d done more there than here but right now, all she longed for was sleep.
And Cy.
Her sleep had been sporadic at best. Nothing had felt quite so right than falling asleep being held by his strong arms and hearing his heartbeat while the masculine and outdoorsy scent of him wound around her. Now, she had nothing but blankets.
“I see Anson stopped by.”
Mama set the table.
Rebecca licked her lips. “He asked me to go walking with him. I can tell him no if you need me here.” Did her mother hear the hope in her tone for an excuse not to go?
A brief head shake. “Go. Eat first though.”
She’d hoped to get out of it, especially since her mother wasn’t entirely fond of him. “Yes, ma’am.”
Together they ate the simple but filling fare. She wanted to crawl in bed and dream; instead, she changed into a nicer dress and waited for Anson. There were no anticipatory butterflies. No sweaty palms or rapid breaths as she hoped maybe a brush of skin or even a kiss. He arrived on time and she made herself appear happy and not as she truly felt—resigned to her fate. He gave her a small bag of Snaps, which she accepted with a smile then handed to her mother. Why bother telling him again she didn’t eat them?
In fact, licorice made her nauseous. Horribly so.
Anson took her arm and they moved into the main part of town. Strolling along the boardwalk, they passed other couples and exchanged pleasantries.
“How is your friend?”
“My friend?”
“Your ma said you went to visit one of your Injun friends.”
She narrowed her eyes. “She’s not an Injun.”
“It’s just a word, Becca.”
She pulled free and glared at him as she lifted the hem of her dress to avoid a pile of mud. Why it was on the on the boardwalk, she wasn’t able to say. “So are some names we’re called, but that still doesn’t make it right.”
The sun hadn’t fully set and she could see the anger flickering in his eyes. Apparently, he didn’t like corrections. Tough.
“You shouldn’t be friends with her.”
This time she stopped walking and fully placed herself before him. Hands on hips she seethed. “You should finish this walk on your own and stay away from me. No one tells me who my friends can be.”
He appeared shocked by her declaration. Then a patronizing look took over. “Are you having woman issues? It would explain your irrational behavior. Perhaps tonight wasn’t a good night to walk. You should rest then we’ll talk again when you feel better.”
Was he kidding? Woman issues? Her fingers itched to slap him. “You…of all the arrogant…woman issues? Let me tell you something, Anson. I’m not irrational. Yet. What I am is a woman who can think for herself and doesn’t need a man to tell her who to befriend or treat like a simpleton. So yes, this was a mistake, one that will not be repeated. Stay away from me.”
She stepped to her left to walk around him when bruising fingers caught her upper arm.
“Don’t walk away from me.” The voice was not from the Anson she knew. This was from a man angry and sinister.
She met his gaze, refusing to show fear. “Let go.” Why had she left without a weapon?
His fingers flexed and it took an extraordinary amount of control for her not to wince at the pain radiating out from where he gripped.