lean-to, yes.” It was a relief to deal with something practical. Her mind,went to work quickly. “Mr. Redman, have you had breakfast?”
He tipped his hat back on his head. “Not to speak of.”
“If you could fashion a temporary shelter for the horses, I’d be more than glad to fix you a meal.” He’d meant to do it anyway, but if she wanted to bargain, he’d bargain. “Can you cook?”
“Naturally. Preparing meals was a very important part of my education.”
He wanted to touch her hair again. And more. Instead, he hooked his thumb in his pocket. “I ain’t worried about you preparing a meal. Can you cook?” She tried not to sigh. “Yes.”
“All right, then.”
When he walked away and didn’t remount his horse, Sarah supposed a deal had been struck. “Mr. Redman?” He stopped to look over his shoulder.
“How do you prefer your eggs?”
“Hot,” he told her, then continued on his way.
She’d give him hot, Sarah decided, rattling pans. She’d give him the best damn breakfast he’d ever eaten. She took a long breath and forced herself to be calm. His way of talking was beginning to rub off on her. That would never do.
Biscuits. Delighted that she’d been given a brand-new recipe only the day before, she went to work.
Thirty minutes later, Jake came in to stand in the doorway. The scents amazed him. He’d expected to find the frying pan smoking with burnt eggs. Instead, he saw a bowl of fresh, golden-topped biscuits wrapped in a clean bandanna. Sarah was busy at the stove, humming to herself. The pup was nosing into corners, looking for trouble.
Jake had never thought much about a home for himself, but if he had it would have been like this. A woman in a pretty dress humming by the stove, the smells of good cooking rising in the air. A man could do almost anything if the right woman was waiting for him.
Then she turned. One look at her face, the elegance of it, was a reminder that a man like him didn’t have a woman like her waiting for him.
“Just in time.” She smiled, pleased with herself. Conquering the cookstove was her biggest accomplishment to date. “There’s fresh water in the bowl, so you can wash up.” She began to scoop eggs onto an ironstone plate. “I’m afraid I don’t have a great deal to offer. I’m thinking of getting some chickens of my own. We had them at school, so I know a bit about them. Fresh eggs are such a comfort, don’t you think?”
He lifted his head from the bowl, and water dripped down from his face. Her cheeks were flushed from cooking, and her sleeves were rolled up past her elbows, revealing slender, milk-white arms. Comfort was the last thing on his mind. Without speaking, he took his seat.
Sarah wasn’t sure when he made her more nervous, when he spoke to her or when he lapsed into those long silences and just looked. Gamely she tried again.
“Mrs. Cobb gave me the recipe for these biscuits yesterday.
I hope they’re as good as she claimed.”
Jake broke one, and the steam and fragrance poured out. Watching her, he bit into it. “They’re fine.” “Please, Mr. Redman, all this flattery will turn my head.” She scooped up a forkful of eggs. “I was introduced to several ladies yesterday while I was buying supplies. They seem very hospitable.”
“I don’t know much about the ladies in town.” At least not the kind Sarah was speaking of.
“I see.” She took a bite of biscuit herself. It was more than fine, she thought with a pout. It was delicious. “Liza Cody-her family runs the dry goods store. I found her very amiable. She was kind enough to let me have one of their puppies.”
Jake looked down at the dog, who was sniffing at his boot and thumping his tail. “That where you got this thing?”
“Yes. I wanted the company.”
Jake broke off a bite of biscuit and dropped it to the dog, ignoring Sarah’s muttered admonition about feeding animals from the table. “Scrawny now, but he’s going to be a big one.”
“Really?” Intrigued, she leaned over to look.
“How can you tell?”
“His paws. He’s clumsy now because they’re too big for him. He’ll grow into them.”
“I fancy it’s to my advantage to own a large dog.” “Didn’t do you much good last night,” he pointed out, but pleased both the pup and Sarah by scratching between the dog’s floppy ears. “You give him a name yet?”
“Lafitte.”
Jake paused with his fork halfway to his lips.
“What the hell kind of name is that for a dog?” “After the pirate. He had that black marking around his eye, like a patch.”
“Pretty fancy name for a mutt,” Jake said over a mouthful of eggs. “Bandit’s better.”
Sarah lifted a brow. “I’d certainly never give him a name like that.”
“A pirate’s a bandit, isn’t he?” Jake dived into another biscuit.
“Be that as it may, the name stands.”
Chewing, Jake looked down at the puppy, who was groveling a bit, obviously hoping for another handout. “Bet it makes you feel pretty stupid, doesn’t it, fella?”
“Would you care for more coffee, Mr. Redman?”
Frustrated, Sarah rose and, wrapping a cloth around the handle, took the pot from the stove. Without waiting for an answer, she stood beside Jake and poured. She smelled good, he thought. Soft. Kind of subtle, like a field of wildflowers in early spring. At the ends of her stiff white sleeves, her hands were delicate. He remembered the feel of them on his cheek.
“They taught you good,” he muttered.
“I beg your pardon?” She looked down at him.
There was something in his eyes, a hint of what she’d seen in them the night before. It didn’t make her nervous, as she’d been certain it would. It made her yearn.
“The cooking.” Jake put a hand over hers to straighten the pot and-keep the coffee from overflowing the cup. Then he kept it there, feeling the smooth texture of her skin and the surprisingly rapid beating of her pulse. She didn’t back away, or blush, or snatch her hand from his. Instead, she simply looked back at him. The question in her eyes was one he wanted badly to answer.
She moistened her lips but kept her eyes steady.
“Thank you. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
“You take too many chances, Sarah.” Slowly, when he was certain she understood his meaning, he removed his hand.
With her chin up, she returned the pot to the stove. How dare he make her feel like that, then toss it back in her face? “You don’t frighten me, Mr. Redman. If you were going to hurt me, you would have done so by now.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Your kind wears a man down.”
“My kind?” She turned, the light of challenge in her eyes. “Just what kind would that be?”
“The soft kind. The soft, stubborn kind who’s right on the edge of stepping into a man’s arms.”
“You couldn’t be more mistaken.” Her voice was icy now in defense against the blood that had heated at his words. “I haven’t any interest in being in your arms, or any man’s. My only interest at the moment is protecting my property.”
“Could be I’m wrong.” He rocked back in his chair. She was a puzzle, all right, and he’d never known how pleasurable it could be to get a woman’s dander up. “We’ll born find out sooner or later. Meanwhile, just how do you plan to go about protecting this place?”
Not much caring whether he was finished or not she began to stack the plates. “I’m going to alert the sheriff, of course.”
“That’s not going to hurt, but it’s not going to help much, either, if you get more trouble out here. The sheriffs ten miles away.”
“Just what do you suggest?”
He’d already given it some thought, and he had an answer. “If I were you, I’d hire somebody to help out
