Love Inspired Historical June 2014 Bundle: Lone Star Heiress\The Lawman's Oklahoma Sweetheart\The Gentleman's Bride Search\Family on the Range (14 page)

Ivy smiled at his outrageous comment and realized she felt a little less like an intruder than she had earlier.

When the food was finally brought out and they were all seated, Mr. Dawson offered up the blessing, giving thanks for the food and the company gathered around the table. Then he stood and cleared his throat. “Before we dig in to this wonderful meal, Eve, Leo and I have an announcement to make.” He held out his arm, and Eve stood and stepped into his embrace, then shuffled aside to make room for Leo to stand between them.

Mr. Dawson paused to place a hand on the ten-year-old's shoulder. “As of yesterday, the adoption process is complete. Leo is officially our son.”

A chaotic chorus of congratulations erupted as everyone stood to surround the trio. There were slaps on the back for Chance, delighted hugs for Eve and congratulations for the boy.

She was surprised to learn Leo wasn't their natural son. Later she'd ask Mitch to tell her the story of how Leo had come to live with them, but for now she was happy to just share in their joy.

Ivy couldn't tell which member of the newly formed family looked happier. Leo's chest seemed about to burst with pride and the grin on his face could outshine the sun. But Eve's and Chance's faces shone with so much love and joy that it couldn't help but touch the hearts of any who witnessed it.

Once everyone took their places again, Ivy found herself drawn into the conversation, as if she were a long-time friend of these people. Mitch, as usual, didn't say much. But she noticed that when he
did
speak, people paid close attention.

Did he realize how much his friends respected him?

When the meal was over, everyone pitched in to clear the table. Then the men put the room back to order while the women cleaned the dishes and portioned out the leftovers.

Eve placed one of the packets in the basket Ivy had carried the flowers in. “This is for you and Mitch.”

Ivy shook her head. “Oh, no, I couldn't. And I'm sure Mitch would agree. The leftovers should go to those who contributed to the meal.”

She suddenly realized she'd inadvertently used Mitch's first name and nervously glanced around. Would anyone notice?

But Eve seemed more focused on the other part of Ivy's statement. “You contributed those beautiful flowers. And Mitch always contributes to the meal, though it doesn't surprise me that you didn't know. That man is more closemouthed than a stone statue.”

Mitch had contributed? How?

Before she could ask, Reggie nodded. “Even though we've each told him it's not necessary, Mitch has placed a standing order with the butcher. Every Saturday, regular as clockwork, either a roast or ham is delivered to whomever is hosting that week's Sunday gathering.”

Why hadn't he said something when she questioned him? But she already knew the answer—Mitch wasn't one to boast over his own good deeds.

As the gathering broke up, she studied the family groupings. Only she and Mitch were solo. Would she ever feel the joy of becoming a wife and mother? It was a cherished dream that Lester had tried to steal from her. But being with these people—with Mitch—made her dare to hope she could still have it.

She glanced toward Mitch. She knew why she was still unmarried—Lester had robbed her of her reputation. But it made no sense to her that Mitch was still single. A man such as he—kind, generous, honorable—that kind of man should have no trouble finding a wife. Moreover, a wife who would treat him as he deserved.

The only explanation she could come up with was his grief over the loss of his wife.

He looked her way and gave her a questioning glance. Had he read something of her thoughts in her expression?

She flashed a quick smile, then busied herself with retying the string that was wrapped around the food in her basket. Mitch crossed the room to take the basket from her, and she relinquished it with a thank-you, then turned to say something to Abigail before he could question her.

It seemed natural for Mitch and Ivy to leave together—after all, they'd arrived that way. But Ivy was still aware of the eyes of her new friends on them as they did so.

When they stepped out onto the sidewalk, Mitch turned to her. “I suppose you'd like to check on Rufus?”

She nodded and they turned their steps toward his place.

Rufus greeted Ivy with his usual enthusiasm, but his attention quickly turned to Mitch—or more specifically, the basket in Mitch's hand.

“Rufus! No!”

But Mitch accepted the animal's less-than-decorous attention with good humor. “You can't blame him—this food is worth getting excited over. I asked Eve to toss a bone or two in my packet so he'll get his share.” He lifted the basket to her eye level. “I'll divide the rest between us. We should each get a nice meal out of it.”

“Oh, no, I couldn't accept that.”

“Of course you can. The ladies always send me too much—you'd think they were trying to fatten me up for something. Besides, I'm certain sharing this is what Eve intended.”

Ivy took advantage of that opening. “Eve and Reggie told me you always furnish the main meat for the meal.”

He shrugged. “It seems fair since I don't take a turn hosting.”

“But why didn't you say something yesterday?”

“It wasn't important.” Then he turned away. “While you and Rufus catch up, I'll put this in the kitchen.”

Ivy absently ruffled Rufus's fur, then picked up a stick and tossed it for him, her mind still on Mitch.

The man was such a puzzle. But a puzzle she wanted to solve.

She drifted across the lawn as she played with Rufus and almost before she realized it, she found herself in the backyard. The swing caught her eye and drew her like crumbs drew a mouse.

Mitch must have heard her because a few moments later he stepped out the back door.

He crossed the yard and stopped just out of reach of the moving swing. “Your food is in Mrs. Pierce's basket whenever you get ready to go.”

“Mind if I ask you a question?” she asked from her perch on the swing.

His lips curved up in a wry smile. “I find trying to stop you is a waste of energy.”

She ignored that bit of teasing. “Why don't you have any of your sketches hanging on your walls or up on your mantel, where folks could see them? They're much too beautiful to keep hidden away.”

His expression didn't change, but she saw a slight crease appear on his forehead. She'd come to recognize that as a sign he was about to close himself off again. “Those sketches are purely for my own enjoyment, not for display.”

This time she wouldn't drop the subject. And there was only one response to such a stuffy answer. “How selfish.”

He blinked, obviously caught off guard by her words. “Hardly that, since I don't ever have visitors.”

No visitors? But Mitch had friends here. Good friends, if the gathering today was any indication. Didn't he see that?

“If both of those things you just said are true,” she replied, “then you've only proved that the drawings
should
be displayed.”

He gave her a puzzled look.

“If they're for your pleasure only, and if no one ever comes here, then it only makes sense for you to display them so that
you
can enjoy them without worry that anyone else will accidentally enjoy them, too.” She hoped he caught the irony in that last bit.

“Quite a debater, aren't you.” His tone was dry, but she didn't detect any irritation. Still, she wasn't sure if he'd meant the words as a compliment or not. She decided it didn't matter, and forged ahead.

“Have you done any sketching lately? I mean, since we left the cabin.”

He nodded.

She stilled the swing and leaned forward eagerly. “May I see it?”

Something flashed in his expression—was it reluctance? Had she overstepped? But then he nodded.

“All right.”

She stood, but he held up a hand. “Keep your seat. I'll bring it out here.”

Was he merely saving her a few steps? Or was he guarding her reputation again? Or was he forcing her to keep her distance?

When he returned, he didn't hand over his sketchbook immediately. “It's not finished yet. I still have some shading to do.”

She stood and smiled, holding out her hand. “I'll keep that in mind.”

He finally handed it over and she flipped open the cover. Then she gave a delighted smile. It was a sketch of Rufus. The dog stood on two legs, front paws braced against a tree and barking at something above him. She'd seen him in that very pose dozens of times. “You've captured him perfectly!”

Mitch rubbed the back of his neck. “I thought you might like to have this one.”

“You mean it? Oh, Mitch, I'd
love
to have this.” Impulsively she threw her arms around him, giving him a big hug. A moment later she realized what she'd done and stepped back, horrified.

The stunned look on his face did nothing to alleviate her embarrassment.

What must he think of her?

Chapter Fourteen

“O
h, my, I mean, oh, Mitch, I'm...I'm so sorry. I don't know what—”

He'd recovered quicker than she had, cutting her stammering apology short by touching her arm lightly. “Please don't apologize. I know it was merely an impulsive gesture of thanks, and I accept it as such.”

He was right, of course. That was all it had been. She'd have done the same with anyone, given the circumstances, wouldn't she? And the fact that he'd momentarily slipped an arm around her in response had probably just been reflex, too, on his part.

She tried to cover her confusion with chatter. “It's just that this is the best gift I've ever received.”

He gave a self-deprecating smile. “I doubt that, but I'm glad you like it. Now let me have it back so I can finish it.”

She gave it up reluctantly and he flipped the cover closed again.

Then she brushed at her skirt, not ready to meet his gaze yet, knowing her cheeks were still a bright pink.

“I should be going.” She needed to get away, to take stock of what had just happened without his very distracting presence beside her.

He gave her a long, searching look, and she had the feeling he was reading her thoughts. He finally nodded. “Of course. I'll fetch the basket and then walk you home.”

“That's not necessary.”

“Perhaps, but it
is
what I'm going to do. Besides, Rufus needs a walk. He's been closed up in this yard for too long.”

Her hand went to her mouth. “Oh, my goodness, I should have thought of that myself. I didn't mean to saddle you with all of Rufus's care.”

He shrugged. “I enjoy long walks. But, if it'll make you feel better, we can walk him together.”

How could she refuse his company when he put it that way? “Of course.”

At least that impulsive hug hadn't pushed him away. In fact, as far as she could tell, other than his initial startled reaction, it didn't seem to have affected him at all.

Seeing as how he was her employer, that was a good thing. So why did it leave her with a dissatisfied feeling?

* * *

Mitch still felt that impulsive hug, could feel the impact of her throwing herself at him, of her arms wrapping around his chest, of his own arm wrapping around her in return in a gesture that felt all together too right.

It had been highly inappropriate, of course. Holding her, even for so brief a moment, had opened a floodgate of emotions that he'd long held at bay. And opening that particular floodgate was a dangerous thing.

But somehow he couldn't regret that it had happened. He hadn't realized how much he missed that kind of close physical connection.

Of course he couldn't allow it to happen again. It wouldn't be fair to Ivy.

No matter how good it felt.

But if Ivy's demeanor was any indication, he didn't need to worry about it. She'd appeared to have some very real regrets. And now she was unusually quiet, talking to Rufus in subdued tones and doing her best not to meet his gaze.

He certainly didn't want things to get awkward between them. After all, she'd be working in his home for the next three weeks.

Perhaps it was time
he
made the effort to carry a conversation.

Mitch cleared his throat. “How do you like your new accommodations?”

She glanced his way. “The room is very comfortable. Much cozier than the hotel.”

She didn't expand further and there was another silence.

He tried again. “And are you and Mrs. Pierce getting along okay?” Her decision to sit with her landlady during the church service had startled him, but only for a moment. Given that she knew the widow had few friends, he should have guessed she'd show public support.

Ivy nodded. “Of course we haven't spent much time together. I mean, she's a bit standoffish, but that's her right. She doesn't know me very well yet.”

Then she gave him a smile that was closer to her usual sunny expression. “We discovered we share a love of gardening, though, so I have a good feeling about how we'll get along in the future.”

Gardening was obviously a touchstone for her. “Her flowers
are
nice. I think Eve really appreciated your bringing them to our gathering.”

“I'm glad.” Her smile widened. “Mrs. Pierce's garden is lovely. There are more flowers out back. There's also one of the largest and most varied herb gardens I've ever seen—I have no idea what some of the plants even are. And she has a luscious vegetable garden, as well.”

To his relief, the awkwardness between them had all but disappeared.

Ivy absently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I plan to learn what I can from her while I'm here.”

“Are you sure she did it all herself?”

Ivy nodded decisively. “She was out watering it when I returned home yesterday. And this morning I saw her collecting some of the produce. Does that surprise you?”

Mitch found it difficult to picture the elegant Mrs. Pierce working in a garden. He'd thought he hadn't judged the widow, but it seemed he had. “I suppose she didn't strike me as someone who liked getting her hands dirty. You're showing me a side of her I hadn't seen before.”

“Nothing wrong with getting your hands dirty. A little dirt under the fingernails can help cleanse the mind of all its worries.”

“Another of your Nana Dovie's sayings?”

She grinned. “No, that's one of mine. But that doesn't make it any less true.”

“I agree. And I'm glad you've found some common ground with Mrs. Pierce.”

“That reminds me, I'll need at least one day off to take care of this laundry business. I can do yours at the same time if you like, as part of my housekeeping duties, I mean.”

“That's not necessary.” There was no way he would add more to her workload. “I already send my laundry out. And as for a day off, you'll have Sundays off, naturally, and then whichever other day you'd like, though I'd prefer it not be Saturday or Monday.”

“That makes sense. I reckon Wednesday would work best, it being the middle of the week.”

“Then Wednesday it is.”

As they reached Eileen Pierce's gate, Ivy straightened. “I suppose it's time I say farewell to you and Rufus.”

He was guiltily gratified to hear a touch of regret in her tone. He hoped they were back to the easy friendship they'd shared before.

Now if he could just keep things that way.

Ivy stooped down to give Rufus one last goodbye hug, and Mitch had to tamp down the memory of that embrace she'd given him. What was wrong with him?

“Be good,” she admonished the animal. “I'll see you in the morning.” Then she smiled at him. “I'll see you in the morning, too. Thanks for a lovely day.”

“You're welcome.” He felt an odd reluctance to return to his empty house. “How do you plan to spend the rest of your afternoon?” he asked.

She fingered her collar. “I want to write a letter to Nana Dovie. A lot's happened since I left Nettles Gap and I know she's curious. There's so much more you can say in a letter than a telegram.”

And then Ivy closed her eyes and lifted her face as if absorbing the heat of the sun. “It's such a pretty afternoon,” she said dreamily.

The unconscious innocence of that gesture, and the beauty of her smile, took his breath away.

Then she dropped her chin and opened her eyes. “I'll probably sit on the front porch to write the letter.”

He hoped she hadn't noticed his momentary gaping. But she wasn't looking at him. She brushed at her skirt. “How about you?”

Was she reluctant to part, as well? He shook off the thought.

“I'll probably finish the book I started earlier this week.” Strange that he hadn't thought about that book since Ivy had entered his life.

She nodded but didn't turn away immediately. “Oh, I forgot to ask—what time would you like me to show up tomorrow?”

Mitch considered that a moment. His first thought was to have her arrive at nine o'clock since he liked to have time for quiet reflection when he first got up in the morning. But then he realized that would leave her on her own for breakfast.

“I'd like my morning meal on the table at eight-thirty. Will that be a problem?” He normally ate much earlier, but he supposed he could survive on coffee until she arrived.

“Not at all. What do you like to have for breakfast?”

“Nothing fancy. Biscuits and eggs will do.”

She gave him an exasperated look. “Now what kind of breakfast is that? A body needs a hearty meal to start off the day proper—especially a body as large as yours.” Her teasing look made it clear she'd meant no offense.

“I'll fix your eggs and biscuits, of course,” she continued, “but I'll also add meat and cheese. And some jam for the biscuits. And if I can find potatoes—”

He raised a hand. “Don't go overboard. Adding a bit of meat and some jam will be more than enough.”

“All right, you're the boss, I suppose.” Her words were delivered with a reluctance that amused him. “I'll shop for supplies first thing and then see you bright and early.”

He nodded, waiting for her to turn and go.

But she wasn't finished. “Hopefully I'll arrive before Reggie's cuttings are delivered.”

He'd forgotten about her plans for a garden. “If not, I'll see that they're unloaded properly for you.”

“Thank you.” She gave a little wave. “Well, goodbye.”

Was he imagining the wistfulness in her voice? Mitch stayed by the gate until she reached the front porch. Then he turned and headed for his place, Rufus padding along beside him.

It was definitely going to be an interesting three weeks.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Ivy sat on the front porch, a half-written letter on the table beside her.

She'd been worried that her impulsive gesture earlier would cause some awkwardness between them, causing Mitch to worry that she was much too forward, or that she was throwing herself at him. But it seemed that hadn't been the case. Any surprise he'd felt had been short-lived.

By the end of their walk, it appeared he was prepared to act as if it hadn't happened.

She, on the other hand, couldn't brush it aside quite as easily.

It had only been six days since she'd met Mitch, but she was afraid she might already be developing deeper feelings for him.

Which would never do. Because falling for him would only lead to heartache.

He was kind and generous and honorable—everything a girl could hope for in a husband. But he wasn't romantically inclined toward her. Which was actually a good thing, because if he ever learned all there was to know about her, he would be shocked, and perhaps worse. And she couldn't bear to see that in his eyes.

Besides, he was her employer now, and it would be best to keep things strictly businesslike between them.

No matter how
un
businesslike she felt.

And she would never, ever think about that unfortunate, but very,
very
nice embrace again.

Now if she could just figure out how to make her heart listen to common sense.