Engaging the Competition (9 page)

She shook her head. “If things don't work out between us, you'll regret losing your opportunity for more schooling.”

He squeezed her hands. “I'm your friend. If you need this house so badly, I'll give you the money. Or if you'd rather, I could loan it interest free.”

He tucked what must have been a stray hair behind her ear. “I can go to school later if I want to. But don't marry someone you don't love, darling. You're too good for that.”

Daddy had always said she was too good for just any man, but she'd never really believed it. But then, the choice wasn't really between two men, it was between her mother's needs and her own.

“I need to tell you why I can't lose the house.” She looked at her mother's bedroom window again and saw nothing. “Momma's not . . . exactly right in the head at the moment. She thinks Daddy's still alive. Her memories of him are so enmeshed with this house he built for her that I think losing it might ruin her mind completely.”

“Darling, I already told you we can save the house.”

“But I can't leave her alone, and I can't promise she'll get better. You might end up living with a crazy mother-in-law.”

“That wouldn't keep me from marrying the woman I love.”

She swallowed against the wetness invading her eyes and throat. His loving her didn't mean he should sacrifice his life for her. “What about your teaching?”

“You'd still have ranch hands to assist while school's in session, and I'd have all summer to help you. The real question is,” he tipped up her chin and grinned, “could you handle being married to someone who just outshot you?”

“Perhaps.” She shrugged and smiled up at him. There was no way this man would not suit her. Not one bit. He'd erased every worry in minutes and promised to keep helping even if she decided against him. And she had feelings for him—so many, for so long. What
would she have done with those if she'd married August? “But you know . . . I'm going to want a rematch. It's not every day I get the chance to face off with someone as good as you. With more practice, I just might—”

“If you have to compete with me, I'd rather you get better at something else.”

“What's that?”

He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her forward. “Kissing.” He knocked her hat off with a flick of his fingers and smiled down at her. “You up to that challenge?”

“Definitely.” She slid her arms up around his neck. This time, she wouldn't spend the first minute confused and—

A throat cleared. “I take it there'll be no wedding today? I prefer to leave before I'm subjected to what will likely be an entertaining contest for you, but an incredibly awkward one for me.”

She smiled despite her hot cheeks and dropped her arms from Harrison's shoulders. How had she forgotten the reverend was
standing by his horse this whole time? “Thank you for coming out, Reverend, but you're right, I don't need your services today.” She smiled up at Harrison. “Though I'm pretty certain we'll need them in the future.”

The moment Reverend McCabe turned to mount his horse, Harrison swooped her up and laid his first kiss right on target.

She didn't even try to outkiss him.

Though she could do anything she put her mind to, she was smart enough to know when she needed a teacher.

T
WO
MONTHS
LATER

“Oh, Charlotte, this is going to be lovely.”

Charlie looked up from the table she'd dragged into the barn and wiped her brow. Tomorrow they'd hold a barn dance after the wedding, and Momma insisted on tearing up burlap and making bows to pierce with dried baby's breath for decorations. “It's very pretty.”

“And not too girly.”

She smiled. “No, it's just right. Thanks, Momma.” She walked over and gave her a side hug. All that remained to do was clean off the tables for the food, sweep the floor again, and maybe find more stumps for people to sit on. Charlie peeped outside to see Harrison assisting one of the elderly ladies, who'd come to bake cakes, up the porch steps.

Momma took the last sprig of baby's breath from her basket and stuck it in the bow she'd just fluffed.

With her hands on her hips, Charlie scanned the barn and
caught her mother looking outside toward the trellis. Months ago, Momma had tried to convince her to plant an impractical flowering vine in it instead of the pole beans she insisted would be of more use. “You want to decorate the green beans with burlap, don't you?”

Momma tried not to smile, but her pursed lips gave her away. “You wouldn't mind too awfully much?”

She shook her head. “As long as Harrison's willing to stand in front of it with me, you could hang Christmas ornaments on it for all I care.”

Her mother sniffed. “I wish your father could see you marry Harrison.”

“Me too.” She sighed and put a hand on her mother's stooped shoulder.

Wait a minute.
“Momma?”

“Yes?”

How to ask her if she'd just heard what she thought she'd heard without confirming Daddy's death? “So . . . you think Daddy would approve of Harrison?”

“Of course. I don't know why he ever approved of that August fellow, but he'd have loved Harrison.”

“Yes he would've. I certainly do.” Crying on the day before her wedding was probably bad luck, but hearing her mother acknowledge that her father was gone only made the ache of missing him worse. But hope glimmered beneath the ache.

Oh, Lord, please let this be the beginning to healing my mother's
mind. I've slacked off praying for her lately, but
please let her come back to me.

Momma's face took on a far-off look. “How long has Hiram been gone now?”

Considering she'd just mentioned he'd approved of August,
maybe she shouldn't be specific. She tried to talk against her tight throat. “A long time.”

Momma nodded, then held out her left hand. She turned the ring on her finger until the little diamond chip was on top. “I wish he was here to give you away.”

“Yes.” She grabbed her mother's hand and squeezed. “But I'm so glad
you
are here to give me away.”

Walking arm in arm, they returned to the house, where the smell of baking sugar made Charlie's stomach rumble.

The kitchen was a jumble with dirty dishes, pretty pastries, and ladies overflowing with good-natured laughter. Harrison's student, Lydia, was wiping flour from her cheek when she looked at Charlie as if she needed to talk. She'd worked all morning with a smile that hadn't quite reached her eyes.

Charlie gave her mother's cheek a kiss before she shooed her away to rip up more burlap. She crossed over to Lydia. “Thank you for helping us get ready for our big day, but are you ready for yours?”

The young lady nodded, but she didn't look as excited to graduate tomorrow as she should have. “You two are going to be very busy with commencement, a wedding, and a dance all in one day.”

“And happy.” Charlie waited for the girl to say whatever was making her fidget. But maybe she needed some prodding. “Do you need something, Lydia?”

She swallowed and shook her head as she absentmindedly kept wiping her hands on her towel. “Mama's too sick to come to commencement. Papa, of course, doesn't care enough to come see me since he figures I should be doing something to help with the
medical bills rather than reading books and his—” She cut herself off. “Well, I need a ride out here, because neither
Jane nor Beatrice can bring me since they won't have room with their families.”

Charlie put a comforting hand on the young woman's shoulder. “We'll bring you out.”

“Oh no, you two don't need to be carting me around on your wedding day!”

“You're Harrison's prized pupil and a good friend to me lately. We want you here.”

Lydia's eyes shimmered. “I'm not his prized pupil—that'd be Beatrice.”

“No, I'm sure his pride in your work makes you the top student. Though you're struggling at home, you work harder than the rest. I don't hear him say ‘You should read what Beatrice wrote.' It's your work he shares with me.”

“Mr. Gray is too kind.” She swallowed, and her smile wavered. “I'm glad you've found your Prince Charming, Charlie. You're a lucky woman.” She ducked her head. “I got to get back to the frosting.”

The footsteps behind Charlie were quickly followed by the familiar weight of a hand on her shoulder that immediately set to work out the knots in her muscles.

“We ready for tomorrow?” Harrison's rumbly voice made her smile.

“Almost.” She nodded toward Lydia. “She needs a ride.”

“We can bring her out.”

“That's what I said. Surely someone can take her back to town.” She sighed. “I'm worried for her.”

“Because of her family?”

“That, and I'm pretty certain she's infatuated with you. Going to be tough for her to see you get married.”

He laughed. “She's more infatuated with my library than
me, but considering I only have about four or five more books for her to borrow, her infatuation will soon be over.”

“You underestimate your book-worthy hero qualities.” She grabbed his hands and turned to face him. “To start with, you're rather handsome.”

“Without the glasses, maybe.”

“Oh, but to a girl, that matters little when your kind heart and fun personality obliterate such an insignificant obstacle.” She plucked his glasses off and smiled up into his big blue eyes.

He tried to snatch his glasses back. “I sort of need those.”

“You can see me without them.”

“Not from this far away.”

“Exactly.”

“Ah, I see.” He pulled her closer. “Poor me, I've lost my glasses.” He laughed again. “But, still, being practically blind is not a heroic quality. Grendel and his mother would have eaten a myopic Beowulf for lunch, and then the poem would've been over within pages.”

He'd forced her to read
Beowulf
with him a month ago. She would have preferred a shorter version. “Well, you're also tall and can quote poetry.”

“And I can shoot really well—let's not forget that.”

“Of course not.” She rolled her eyes but couldn't keep a chuckle from escaping. “With those qualities, no wonder your female students are the highest achievers. What girl wouldn't want to impress you? I certainly did when I was their age—and you were a terrible shot back then.”

She could tell he was trying hard not to argue about his past shooting skills, but then he smiled and pulled her closer. “I guess I'm completely irresistible now.”

“Hmmm.” She tapped his chin. “Maybe I shouldn't let you continue teaching, then.”

“No worries.” He nuzzled her hair. “You're the only girl I want.”

Lydia peeked up from her work and smiled over at them. Maybe they were being a little too demonstrative.

Charlie gave him a quick peck on the cheek and handed him back his glasses. “I'm worried for Lydia though,” she whispered. “She might be pretty, but with no money and a father like hers . . . I'm not sure any decent men will be interested in her.”

“All she needs is a Mr. Darcy—a man rich enough not to care about her poverty, who can be caught by her fine eyes, and will look past her family's poor manners. And considering Lydia's borrowed
Pride and Prejudice
from me no less than three times, I'm pretty certain she'd swoon over any proud and disagreeable man who looked at her twice.”

“Don't say that.” She playfully punched him.

“Don't worry, she's attractive enough to snag someone good—maybe not as good a shot as me, but then, no one can be perfect.”

“I do believe if this bragging keeps up, I'm going to have to start practicing more so I can bring you down a notch.”

He leaned closer. “You're on.” The playful nip he gave her ear caused a shiver to run down her spine, so she stepped away from him lest he do it again. He could only pretend to whisper in her ear for so long before the others in the room realized more than whispering was going on. “Shame on you,” she breathed.

“No, no. No shame.” He grinned.

She swatted him. “Wait until tomorrow.” She blew out a shaky breath.

“Nervous?”

“To say our vows? No.”

“Then what's got you addlepated, besides me and my good looks?”

She bit her lip and her cheeks heated.

“What's wrong, Charlie?” When she didn't answer, he pulled her into the nearby parlor.

She crossed her arms against herself but couldn't stay silent with him staring at her. “I'm not worried about being able to outshoot you one day, but . . .”

“But what?”

“I was bad at kissing.” She swallowed. “What if I'm not good at . . . more?”

He trailed a finger down her cheek. “I could end up being just as bad as you, but we've got a lifetime to work on the ‘more.'” He kissed her forehead and left his lips against her hairline. “But I'm absolutely certain I'll never tire of practicing at getting better at loving you.”

Keep reading for a special sample of
A
Heart
Most
Certain
by Melissa Jagears.