One Heart to Win (18 page)

But some reactions just weren’t controllable. Her reaction to Hunter after he sat down was one of them. It was by far one of the most uncomfortable meals she’d ever had, when it shouldn’t have been. Hunter grilled Andrew while they ate. She’d expected that and couldn’t object to it, since Andrew would be living at the ranch. And at least Hunter did it in a friendly manner. But Tiffany was only half listening.

She had been doing her best all day to ignore how handsome Hunter was. It was fairly easy to do when she wasn’t looking directly at him, but in the restaurant, sitting across the table from him, it stopped being easy. She knew why. Because he was looking at her even while he was talking to Andrew. It made her nervous. It made her blush. While she wanted to tell him to stop it, she
didn’t
want him to know how much it was bothering her.

As she’d been finding out lately, she chattered a little too much when she got nervous. When the “interview” paused briefly, she jumped in, saying, “When I first saw the sign outside the restaurant, I thought
Sal
would be short for
Sally
, but Degan mentioned today that only men work here.”

“You were right about the name.” When her eyes widened, Hunter laughed. “No, the man’s name isn’t Sally. Sally was Tom’s wife. He owns the place. He named it for her and didn’t change it after she died. The whole town was saddened by the loss because Sally was a wonderful woman. We were afraid Tom might pack up and head back East, but Sarah Wilson offered to
help. She spits out kids like chewing tobacco, so she had milk to nurse Tom’s newborn.”

“You’re confusing even me,” Degan said, “so I can’t imagine what Miss Fleming is thinking.”

“Sorry,” Hunter said, his eyes back on Tiffany. “Sally died in childbirth their second year here.”

“Nashart doesn’t have a doctor?” Tiffany asked.

“We do, but men with that type of learning are pretty rare out here. For as far back as I can remember, we’ve had the only doc for miles around. But he frequently gets called away to other nearby towns, so he isn’t always on hand for our own emergencies. Like complications in childbirth, which is what happened with Sally.”

The remark made her realize she was hearing about another danger in the West, for women specifically. Had her mother had help with the births of her four children? How brave Rose was to face that, knowing she might have to do it alone and could die because of it!

Hunter had been right to begin with, the tale was sad, so Tiffany tried changing the subject. “Sarah Wilson, how many children does she actually have for you to have described it so—colorfully? Five? Six?”

“Twelve by last count.”

“And she hasn’t shot her husband yet?”

Hunter burst out laughing. Tiffany almost grinned herself, but she hadn’t been joking. That poor woman!

“You don’t like kids?” he asked curiously.

“I—I don’t actually know. I haven’t had occasion to be around them very often.”

“No, I guess I was getting at, how many do you hope to have someday?”

“A
much
more moderate number.”

“You’d make some beautiful kids,” Hunter said with an admiring look, then leaned closer to whisper, “Want to make some?” She gasped. He laughed. “Figure out when you’re being teased, Red. You take things much too seriously, even for an Easterner.”

She decided to tell him the truth. “I don’t—usually. I actually have a nice, even temperament.”

“Where’ve you been hiding it?”

She blushed. He was probably teasing again, though maybe not this time. But then, she couldn’t exactly discuss with him the debacle her life had become—when he was the cause of that.

She quickly changed the topic of conversation again. “Well, I’m glad Tom decided to stay and raise his child here. This chicken dish is exquisite.”

It was, but the creamy sauce was what made it special. If she hadn’t had such a bad experience with the town baker, she might have asked Tom for the recipe. But as she gazed around the restaurant, watching Tom move from one table to another, accepting compliments on the food and money from happy diners, she belatedly realized that a baker or a cook wouldn’t want to share his recipes because the food those recipes helped them produce was their source of income. She noticed that all three men had ordered beef in some form, though Degan’s steak was different, accompanied with a dark sauce. She had a feeling that he was as accustomed to refined food as she was. If her thoughts went down that path, she’d be crying, because she didn’t think she’d ever be able to cook anything as delicious as this.

Hunter somehow read her mind! “Don’t worry, we don’t
expect you to start with anything this fancy. You have to get the hang of it first.”

She gave him a slight smile. It did relieve her a little to hear him say that. But then he added, “Tom came from Chicago. Does his food make you feel homesick?”

Yes! She’d been homesick since the day she’d left New York City. But she didn’t say so. Instead she asked, “Why did Tom leave Chicago and travel this far west to open a restaurant?”

Hunter shrugged. “Money, or the lack of it, brings a lot of people out this way. Tom couldn’t afford to open his own restaurant back East. Here, it cost him next to nothing; in fact, just the building materials, and even half of those were donated. The folks in town were so pleased to get a real restaurant in Nashart, they all pitched in and this place went up in a day.”

They were about finished. If they had stood up a few moments sooner, they would have run into disaster at the door, because the worst thing that could happen did happen: one of her brothers walked in. Tiffany froze, paralyzed with indecision. She should bolt out of there, but she had no excuse to do that! She wasn’t supposed to know that was Sam Warren standing by the door with two other young men she didn’t recognize. She could be wrong. It had been six years since she’d seen her oldest brother. He’d changed so much in that time. . . .

But as she gazed at the man, she knew it was Sam. His face was more masculine now, he even sported a mustache, but that was her brother—his blond hair, his green eyes. And, oh, God, she wanted to hug him so badly it almost brought tears to her eyes!

Then she heard Degan say to Hunter, “I’ll distract him while you get her out of here the back way.”

So she wasn’t the only one who had noticed a Warren had
entered the restaurant. Hunter stood up as Degan did and came around the table to take her arm, saying quietly, “Don’t make a fuss, but a Warren just walked in. Pa wants them to find out. That was the point, after all, of winning you to our side. But Pa wants to savor this victory for a spell, so we’d prefer they not find out this soon.”

“I would prefer it never happen,” she whispered back. “I’ll feel terrible if I have to explain my decision to them in person.”

Hunter put his arm around her neck and held her close to shield her from Sam’s view. She didn’t object. She didn’t
want
to be found out. Thankfully, she was out the back door without hearing anyone call her name—her real name.

Chapter Twenty-Two

H
UNTER HURRIED TIFFANY DOWN
the street to the hitching post where Degan had left their horses, but he didn’t wait for the others to join them. He mounted his pinto and leaned down to offer her a hand up. She didn’t protest because the only thing on her mind was escaping. She was still too upset over such a close call, and they weren’t out of town yet. If Sam had recognized her, she’d be facing her father—today. But a small voice reminded her, “And be reunited with your brothers.” Could she stomach Franklin for that? No, not even for that. The hurt that man had caused her ran too deep. She’d have to figure out some other way to visit with her brothers before she left the territory.

“We need to do this more often.”

It took a few moments for Hunter’s remark to break through and make sense to her. Was he talking about her practically sitting on his lap? Oh, good grief, why was she?

“Wait! I thought you were taking me to the stable in town. I was going to rent a horse for the ride home.”

“You’re already riding home.”

“But this is highly improper.”

“Me taking you home is improper? You sure get some silly notions, Red.”

She snapped her mouth shut and gritted her teeth. They were out of town already, so she wasn’t surprised he’d say that. Yet he had to know what she was talking about. Etiquette in the West couldn’t be
that
different from the rules of social decorum she’d been taught. But even worse, the position he’d put her in was far too intimate. He hadn’t placed her behind him or astride in front of him, he’d set her down sideways, right across his lap, so she couldn’t miss his gazing down at her. And grinning.

He was mighty pleased with himself, the cad, while she was distinctly uncomfortable. She turned her head away from his glance and looked at the road ahead. The long mane of his pinto blew across her hand. Such a beautiful animal. She wanted one just like it. Before she left the territory, she was going to purchase one to ship home. She’d be the envy of all her friends as they rode around Central Park. Most of her friends didn’t know about her dilemma. She’d been too ashamed to tell them where she was going. They would have been so shocked.

Oh, good grief, she couldn’t think about home now, or having seen Sam, because she’d start crying, and she couldn’t let Hunter and her proximity to him fluster her. She had to focus on being Jennifer, the housekeeper, and engage in normal conversation. That would calm her down.

Keeping her eyes off him, she said, “This is a pretty horse.”

Hunter’s snort made her glance back at him. He grimaced as he told the horse, “Don’t listen to her, Patches, she didn’t really
just call you pretty.” He then leaned down to her and whispered, “Don’t insult him again, he’s damn touchy.”

She didn’t believe a word he’d said, but she couldn’t help laughing. Until she realized Hunter was just creating an excuse to bring his face down close to hers. With those lovely powder-blue eyes so close now, she stopped breathing. If he kissed her—oh, God, she didn’t know what she’d do.

She blurted out, “I like riding, but I like holding my own reins. You should have taken me to the stable in town so I could rent a mount for myself.”

He leaned back, the moment he might have kissed her gone. She could breathe again. Relief should have rushed in, yet she felt disappointed instead. What was wrong with her! It would be better for her if she didn’t know what it was like to be kissed by Hunter Callahan.

But he was still looking down at her. “Wouldn’t have taken you for a rider. I thought all you city folks just travel around in carriages.”

Finally a distracting topic that should compose her. “Not at all. I lived near a big park, possibly the biggest in the world. I was quite young when I was taught to ride. Perhaps you might let me borrow your Patches sometime?”

He shook his head. “A man bonds with his horse, it’s like family.”

She burst out laughing, but cut it off when she realized he might actually be serious.

He was quick to remark, “That’s a beautiful laugh you’ve got, Jenny. Why don’t I hear it more often?”

Because she was in constant turmoil, anxiety, worry, but worse, the man she’d come here to disdain was proving to be likable. Occasionally. When she didn’t catch him seducing
women, including herself. But of course she couldn’t say any of that.

Primly she said, “A housekeeper must be reserved at all times.”

“Stop it.” He chuckled. “That might have been the case in those fancy homes you worked in back East, but you’re in Montana now.”

Did he have to keep pointing that out? She got back to the subject that had briefly calmed her, and his silly—or not—remark about his horse. She asked, “Were you joking about Patches? I’ve only owned two horses. I confess I never considered either one a pet.”

His expression turned curious. “Horses ain’t cheap. How’d you even afford one?”

She groaned to herself, but quickly thought of a reasonable excuse. “A good friend of my father’s was a horse breeder. The man he worked for wasn’t very nice. Any horses that didn’t meet his standards, he ordered put down. Our friend didn’t like doing that and gave them away instead whenever he could.”

“Easterners,” Hunter said with some disdain. “Out here, we’d just set them free. We’ve got a few extra horses at the ranch. You can ride one of them. Just let me know when you feel like riding and I’ll take you out.”

She frowned. “I would prefer not to be restricted to your schedule. I’d like to ride out when I feel like it—alone.”

“Can you shoot a gun?”

“No.”

“A rifle?”

“Of course not.”

“Then you don’t ride alone.”

She would have argued if his tone hadn’t suggested it would
be pointless. Perhaps she could learn to shoot a weapon. No, why bother when she wouldn’t be here that long.

Then it occurred to her: “If you have extra mounts, why didn’t you bring one for me today?”

He chuckled. “And miss you sitting in my lap for the trip back? Hell no.”

So he’d planned this uncomfortable situation she found herself in? He was grinning at her, obviously patting himself on the back for arranging this intimacy. Why?
Was
he like this with every young woman who crossed his path? More to the point, was he enjoying some innocent flirtation or was he actually bent on seducing her—Jennifer, she corrected herself. She ought to find out, but how could she if she kept taking offense at his style of friendliness. She could be nicer to him, she supposed, perhaps even go along with his flirting just to see where it would go. No, that smacked of tempting him to be unfaithful. She couldn’t in good conscience use that against him to get out of this arranged marriage, not if she provoked it. It had to be his idea and serve as proof of
his
philandering nature that she could present to her mother.