Tall, Dark, and Determined (27 page)

With news of how much Twyler's leg had improved during the past two days and the doctor's estimation that he could be moved tomorrow, Jake didn't want anything to upset Evie. He wouldn't have much time with her before leaving, and Jake fully intended to enjoy every minute of it.
Right after this conversation
.

“What do you mean, she turned it down?” Braden's roar didn't ask a question so much as demand an answer. Immediately.

“Sounds pretty self-explanatory to me.” Jake shot the other man a warning glance. They may be business associates and even friends, but he wouldn't allow Braden Lyman to shout at Evie.

“I offered Cora her pick of the houses in town and the same type of trust to protect it and her share of the sawmill.” Miss Lyman's answer didn't soothe anyone's ruffled feathers.

In fact, it was the one time Jake had seen Evie and Braden in complete agreement. Well,
almost
complete agreement.

Braden blamed the women. “Why did you let her turn you down? Contact Mr. Rountree and have him draw it up immediately.”

“Why did you put her in a position where Lacey even needed to make the offer?” Evie shot back. “Don't you yell at your sister for trying to soften the blows
you've
dealt mine!”

This comment struck home. Jake could see the muscles at Braden's temples throbbing when he shook his head. How much longer would it take for Braden to stop making his own injuries more important than the woman he loved? If he wanted to jilt Cora and really didn't want her anymore, the man wouldn't feel so guilty.

“It's not my place to make Cora's decisions for her,” Lacey pointed out. “As a friend, I can offer my assistance. As the sister of the man who's trying so hard to jilt her, I can't offer much comfort. She sees accepting the trust as a betrayal.”

Braden's misery was palpable. “A betrayal of what?”

“Of her faith that you'll recover, you dunderhead.” Evie raked her fingers through her hair, unleashing a few glorious mahogany curls. “Cora believes you'll remember how much you love each other and start acting like an honorable man instead of a thwarted child.” She left off talking and settled for glaring.

“You know how loyal she is,” Lacey put in. She paused, her voice softening as though sharing a secret. “I think she refuses it because Cora equates that trust with giving up on you.”

“She should!” Braden and Evie exclaimed in tandem then looked at each other in surprise. For a moment neither spoke.

“No she shouldn't.” Jake decided he'd found the time to step into the argument—and hopefully settle it. “If she stops looking at it as a good-faith gesture, she'll let Lacey do it.”

“I meant she should give up.” Evie colored at how stark the words sounded, but quickly rallied. “She should know by now that he's not going to be the man who won her heart. Never again.”

Jake winced at the way she'd said it. He, Evie, and Lacey knew she referred to Braden's surly demands and blunt treatment of Cora. But Jake knew Braden would think otherwise. Although his broken legs were mending, he'd never be the same carefree, able-bodied man who'd once joined his workers in the mines. As far as Braden's narrow vision could see, the best way to protect and provide for Cora was to make her free to marry someone else.

For his part, Jake had an inkling of why Braden thought that way. It wasn't exactly easy to fall in love with a woman as fiercely loving, loyal, and godly as the Thompson sisters.
Evie deserves better than me, too
. He looked at where she sat, hair tantalizingly mussed, frustration stamped on her beautiful, expressive face.
Difference between me and Braden is that I'll become that better man before I even think of letting her go
.

“Step back and tell me how it looks,” Miss Lyman directed the bespectacled engineer. Perched atop a ladder, holding a sign advertising F
RESH
-G
ROUND
C
OFFEE
, she couldn't see that her eager helper was looking all right. But not at the sign.

“I'm not sure.” Mr. Lawson hedged a series of instructions, watching her movements with unconcealed interest. “Try moving it a bit to the right. No, down a smidge. And to the left.”

Chase strode through the wide-open door, silently making his way to the engineer's side. “Like what you see, Lawson?” He'd spoken low to make sure Miss Lyman didn't hear his warning.

“Oh!” The other man jumped a bit then began spluttering. His ears began to turn red. “Helping Miss Lyman get the sign straight, don't you know. She asked me for my expert opinion.”

“I know exactly what you were doing,” Chase told him. “Don't let me catch you doing anything like it again.”

“What?” Up on the ladder, all trim ankles and round curves, Miss Lyman remained oblivious. Or maybe she didn't. A gently bred woman would know better than to shimmy up a ladder and show off her petticoats. “I didn't quite make that out, Mr. Lawson.”

Maybe she wanted to catch Lawson's eye
. The thought had merit. Out of all the men in town, the engineer boasted the most education, income, and fine manners.
Could she be that scheming?

She leaned farther over and nudged up one corner, giving an improved view of her backside as she did so. “Good enough?”

“Excellent.” Doubts driven away by the show she put on, Chase answered for the mortified engineer. “Come on down now.”

She whipped around when he spoke, looking down at him in surprise. “Mr. Dunstan? I didn't know you'd joined us.” She hurried down the ladder, bustled over, and looked upward.

For the first time since he'd walked into the tableau, Chase evaluated the sign. After Lawson's haphazard directions, the thing hung catawampus, as though tacked up by a drunk giant.

“That'll never do.” Puzzlement colored her features as she turned to face them. She noticed the engineer's impressively red ears. “Don't worry, Mr. Lawson. We'll get it right next time.”

While she consoled her embarrassed admirer, Chase mounted the ladder, untacked the drooping corner of the sign, and straightened the thing. Done in an instant, he hopped down.

“Much better!” She gave Chase a considering look. “But why did you pronounce its earlier placement as excellent?”

“Ladies shouldn't be climbing ladders.” His reply made her smile vanish, and suddenly Chase remembered part of what he'd heard her muttering about in the forest. All that stuff about how limited women were and that she was capable of doing things men thought she couldn't. His words wouldn't be taken well.

“I assure you, Mr. Dunstan, I am fully able to climb my own ladder. You might take a page from Mr. Lawson, who encouraged me to ascend so he could gauge the angles of the sign from below. He”—her voice got very sniffy—”obviously thinks me capable.”

He wanted an eyeful, and you gave it to him
. But Lawson's guilty look confirmed Miss Lyman's explanation of how she came to be atop the ladder. She hadn't plotted the scenario after all—simply been naive enough to undertake it. Relief cooled his temper enough that he offered no argument, only a warning.

“Can and should are two different things, ma'am.” He shot a dark look at Lawson, whom he'd have to watch more closely in the future. “Some dangers have nothing to do with your abilities.”

    TWENTY-TWO    

B
ut I should have concerned myself more for your welfare than for pleasing you by getting the sign precisely aligned.” Mr. Lawson resolutely ignored Chase's incredulity and addressed himself solely to Miss Lyman. “Ladders are perilous for ladies. Skirts, while fetching, aren't constructed for climbing.” His voice grew fainter as he finished, most likely because he realized he'd said exactly the wrong thing to win Miss Lyman.

“Your concern is duly noted, Mr. Lawson.” She smoothed the front of those very skirts as she spoke. As she did so, Chase realized the motion was becoming familiar. It didn't bode well for the engineer. “Though I am dismayed to realize I gave you far too much credit by believing you recognized my ability to perform the task at hand. My portion of which, I believe, I accomplished handily.” She left unspoken the accusation that Mr. Lawson's direction as to the placement of the sign left something to be desired. Miss Lyman didn't need to say it.

“I say.” Lawson's ears brightened as he began to try to dig his way out of the hole he'd jumped in. “Your work ethic is much to be admired, Miss Lyman. I merely meant that anyone would be hampered by this sort of attire.” He made a flourishing gesture meant to indicate her well-tailored suit.

It made Chase take a harder look. Cut closer to the body without the fullness caused by bustles, these skirts looked less cumbersome than what she'd worn to go tromping through the forest. To be fair, the more billowy style would have made climbing a ladder difficult. But the lack of extra fabric made this outfit follow the lines of her body more closely.

“My attire is always appropriate.” Everything about her bristled as she defended her clothing, of all things. “This walking suit, in particular, is designed to allow ease and economy of motion without the burden of excess fabric. It's a sensible choice for working in the store today with so much to be done!”

Chase frowned.
They're more sensible, but more revealing
. Little wonder Lawson grew fascinated with watching her bend and sway to shift the sign. Truth be told, Chase would have taken a moment to enjoy the view if Lawson hadn't ogled her first.

A woman shouldn't wear something so different as to make a man look at her all over again. Clothes were made for covering the body and protecting it from the elements, not attracting attention. But the fact was, Chase had been here for three days and not seen her wear the same thing twice. Three dresses, each in pretty colors with flounces or bows or lace to draw the eye.

Hadn't Granger mentioned something about her being more put out by her ruined dress than by the way her kidnapper marched her off at gunpoint and held a knife to her throat?

“You have a lot of dresses.” The statement escaped before he thought it over.
At least I didn't come right out and say she had too many
. Chase waited for her to turn that glower on him.

“Precisely!” An enchanting smile lit the daft woman's face. “Something for every occasion and activity so I won't be ‘hampered,' as Mr. Lawson so gracelessly described it.”

“I meant no insult! Skirts allow less motion by their very design, requiring grace and discretion.” The engineer protested vehemently, as though he held strong opinions on a topic requiring very little opinion or discussion. “You epitomize that grace, and each style you choose reflects your feminine beauty.”

Chase looked around the jumbled mess of the store, wondering whether anything might serve as a gag before the man said anything else florid and foolish.
It's dung-brains like this that give women starched-up opinions of themselves
.