His Brother's Wife (20 page)

Jesse had the decency to
blush. She'd berated Rafe at one time for ordering Jesse around so
much but she hadn't really taken the time to stop and actually see
what was going on. Now she did and she saw that Rafe had been
right. Jesse did what he needed to and nothing more, unless Rafe
made him, and even then, it was a fight of major proportions. Most
of the time, Rafe just did whatever chore he’d asked Jesse to do
himself. She’d seen it numerous times now. The day, and half of the
evening, Rafe had spent fixing the fence being the
latest.

Taking the dirty dishes to
the sink, Grace glanced out the window. The sun was barely up, the
mountains in the distance a black ink spot on the horizon. The wind
whistled softly against the windows as leaves whirled around the
yard. Winter was coming. She glanced behind her to the larder. Did
they have enough food to last? She made a mental note to do an
inventory of their food stores as soon as the breakfast dishes were
done.

Jesse left, shutting the
backdoor firmly before making his way to the barn. She watched him
enter, the light from inside illuminating the entryway briefly
before the door closed behind him. She smiled. He was going to
school. Maybe now he’d see he didn’t need a wife as much as he once
thought.

The idea caused
butterflies to dance in Grace’s stomach. If Jesse didn’t want to
marry her anymore then maybe Rafe wouldn't feel the need to put
himself out of the running as a potential husband for
her.

He’d left her breathless
with kisses, caused her skin to tighten with the caress of his
fingers against her flesh, and whispered hotly against her skin how
much he wanted her.

The moment her mind
conjured images of them together, Grace's breath hitched in her
throat. She wondered if she was wanton enough to let him take her,
a certificate of marriage or not.

She glanced out the window
and saw Rafe walk across the yard, leading his horse behind him. It
only took her an instant to answer her own question. Regardless of
what she'd said earlier, she'd let him bed her and not have a
single regret in doing so.

* * * *

Jesse left his horse at
the livery stable, telling Percy Goins, one of the livery stable
hands, he’d be back around three o’clock, and walked toward the
school with nervousness making his stomach ache. He’d been worried
Mrs. Avery wouldn’t allow him back into class but Rafe assured him
she would. He hoped his brother was right. It was embarrassing
enough to walk in there with everyone looking at him. To have her
turn him away would be mortifying.

He swung open the gate to
the schoolyard, the squeak of the hinges sounded loud in the quiet
morning. The school bell had already rung. He’d heard it when he
rode into town. His morning chores had taken longer than he thought
they would. He shouldn’t have dawdled at the breakfast table. He
wouldn’t from now on.

Walking the two steps up
to the building, he paused by the door, taking deep breaths. He
found it amusing he could fake a sense of bravado in a
confrontation with a grown man but give him a room full of kids his
own age and he was scared spitless. He wasn’t sure why other than
the fact he didn’t care what the adults in town thought of him.
These kids though… they were his friends. He cared what they
thought.

Pushing all thoughts aside
other than getting through the day, he pushed open the door and
walked inside. The room was a riot of laughs and shrill voices
ringing out over the next trying to be heard. Jesse inhaled the
scent of chalk and unwashed bodies. He spotted those unwashed
bodies on the left hand side of the room. The Atwater kids always
stank. After Benjamin and Betsey Atwater’s mother died of a fever
two years ago their drunken father didn’t care what they did or how
they looked. Or smelled.

He shut the door, looking
at everyone briefly before walking up the center isle. The voices
hushed as he passed them and when he reached Mrs. Avery's desk, the
silence in the room was deafening.

Laurel Avery was the best
teacher they'd had in Willow Creek. She'd been stern and unfriendly
when she arrived in town but since marrying Holden Avery, she'd
changed. Everyone loved having her as their teacher.

She smiled when she saw
him and folded her hands together in front of her. “It’s nice to
see you, Jesse.”

He nodded his head at her
in greeting. “Mrs. Avery.” He cleared his throat and looked to his
feet, a small part of him dying inside at having to ask to come
back to class, but she stopped his words by speaking
first.

“Would you like to take a
seat or is there other business that brings you by
today?”

Jesse let out the breath
he’d been holding and looked up at her face. She was still smiling
and the look in her eyes said she knew exactly how he felt. He
nodded his head and returned her smile with one of his own. “I’d
like to take a seat if it’s all right with you, ma’am.”

“It’s perfectly all
right.” She turned back to the blackboard and Jesse faced the
class. Everyone was staring at him. He knew they would be. His old
desk was still empty so he made his way to it with every eye in the
room on him. When he settled in his seat, Alex Avery turned around
in hers and stared at him.

“
What you doing back here? I thought you was a
man
now?”

He ignored her. She was
annoying when she said nothing at all. Just having to be near her
grated on his nerves most days. She was loud, rude, and thought she
could play any game they invented better than any boy in all of
Willow Creek.

“What’s the matter?” she
asked. “That wife of yours forbid you from talkin’?” The other kids
in class burst into a fit of laughter then, Alex smirking at him as
they did.

Jesse glared at her and
noticed her blonde hair was brushed into tidy ringlets. Her usual
shirt and trousers were replaced with a dress of soft blue. He
blinked. Alex Avery looked like a girl. A pretty one at that. Not
that he'd ever tell her so.

When Mrs. Avery tapped the
blackboard with the stick she used for pointing out things to them,
everyone turned to face the front of the class. Everyone but Alex.
She sat there staring at him, a queer look on her face. Mrs. Avery
called her name. Alex made a “humpf” sound at him before shaking
her head and turning around.

Jesse stared at the back
of her head, his gaze tracing those curls down the length of her
back and wondered for the first time ever, if her hair was as soft
as it looked. He dismissed the thought and turned his attention to
Mrs. Avery. He'd have time to contemplate Alex later.

* * * *

Grace was setting the
sandwiches she’d made for lunch on the table when Rafe walked in.
He hung his coat and hat on the peg by the door and walked to the
sink, washed his hands and face from the bucket, and turned with a
towel in his hand and stared at her. The butterflies in her stomach
erupted into flight then.

She’d realized when Jesse
left that morning and didn’t return that she and Rafe were alone
and would be every day school was in session. She also thought of
her earlier question about whether Rafe wanted to marry her or just
bed her. And her answer to that question.

She half expected Rafe to
come in right after Jesse left and she’d been waiting. Practicing
the speech she’d rehearsed in her head about why they should keep
their distance from each other. That speech disappeared as if she’d
never even thought it up as he stood there staring at
her.

He'd rolled his shirt
sleeves to his elbows, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he
rubbed his hands in that towel. Something in his eyes told her he
was thinking naughty things and her mind's eye flashed images of
what he'd done to her under those trees on the outskirts of town in
vivid color. She felt his fingers between her legs all over again
and those butterflies she couldn't seem to get rid of swam in such
a ferocious pattern she nearly doubled over and swooned right there
on the kitchen floor. She looked away, let out the breath she’d
been holding in and stared at the table.

She saw him move out of
the corner of her eye, tossing the towel to the counter behind him
and made his way across the room to the table. She held her breath,
waiting to see what he’d do. If she were honest, she knew what she
wanted him to do. Right or wrong, she wanted him. Wanted him
touching her, his lips on hers and the manly scent of him tickling
her nose.

He slid out his chair when
he reached the table and Grace forced herself not to look at him.
She reached for the water pitcher and poured him a glass, setting
it within reach before filling her own. When he sat down, she did
the same, moving her chair a little farther away from
him.

They ate in silence. He
devoured most of the sandwiches while she nibbled at hers. When
he’d finished, he wiped his hands, finished his water and turned
his head toward her. She couldn’t look at him. Her face burned hot,
her pulse leaping like a caged bird in her chest.

When he stood and put his
coat back on, followed by his hat, she raised her eyes and watched
him leave the house without a word. She exhaled a long breath,
closed her eyes and sighed. What in the world was wrong with her?
She’d been alone with him on numerous occasions and never once had
she been so nervous, yet today she could barely breathe while he
was in the room.

Shaking her head, she
stood, cleared away the dishes and cleaned the room in record time.
When she was finished, she looked out the window toward the barn.
The urge to go to him was overwhelming. She had no reason to seek
him out other than she wanted to. And the very idea she wanted to
be near him so badly was absurd.

She knew very little about
the man other than what she’d seen. Jesse had told her Rafe had
been away from home for ten years but she had no clue as to why.
The more she thought about it the more she realized she didn't know
anything about him other than he was ornery, pig-headed and kissed
with an abandon that left her shaky and light headed.

Movement by the barn
caught her attention and Grace watched as Rafe climbed onto a horse
and rode toward the pasture, disappearing over the hill. She stared
at the spot he’d been for long moments as her mind wandered back to
the knowledge that she didn’t really know him.

The thought had her
turning her head to the room just off the kitchen. The room Rafe
slept in. Everything he owned was probably in there and she knew
some of the answers she wanted could be found inside but going
through his things was wrong. She couldn’t stoop so low as to snoop
through his personal belongings.

She was moving across the
kitchen before she could talk herself out of it. Opening the door,
she peeked inside the darkened interior.

She’d only see the room
from the door, as she never cleaned it. She wasn’t sure why. Going
into Jesse’s room was as normal to her as entering her own but for
some reason, Rafe’s room had always seemed off limits. He was a man
grown. Surely he could pick up after himself. The pile of dirty
clothes in the corner and the bed covers trailing onto the floor
let her know he didn’t.

Walking further into the
room, Grace pushed the door wide to let more light in. The room was
almost bare. A bed pushed against one wall, a single chest of
drawers and a small table that held a pitcher and bowl with a small
mirror hanging on the wall above it. A faded rag rug sat on the
floor between the bed and chest. The room looked dust free but that
was about all she could say about it.

The dresser had a few
items scattered along the top and she made her way to it. The item
that caught her attention the most was a small bar of soap. She
puzzled over its soft pink color. Her own soap, the bar she’d
misplaced, looked exactly like that one. Reaching for it, she
lifted it to her face and inhaled the scent. Roses. It was her
soap. How did he end up with it?

She remembered the night
she’d bathed in the kitchen, the last time she remembered having
it, and smiled. She must have left it. But why did Rafe have it?
She couldn’t imagine him bathing with it. What man would want to
smell of roses?

Laying the soap back down,
she rummaged through the bits of paper, a few coins and the books
stacked on one end. She picked them up, examined the titles and saw
a bit of something sticking out from the pages of one. Opening the
book, she found the photograph of a young woman inside.

Grace stared at the
photograph for long minutes. The woman was pretty, her long dark
hair pulled up into a loose bun at the nape of her neck. She was
dressed simply but it didn’t detract from her appearance. Flipping
the photo over, the name Katie was written in scrawling
letters.

She puzzled over the photo
until the scrape of boots on the floor registered. Moments later, a
sound behind her sent off alarm bells in her head. Someone was in
the house.

Grace turned, shocked to
see Rafe standing in the doorway. She’d clearly seen him riding
over the hill but there he was, standing at the entrance to his
room. A room she was in.