inconsiderate and rude, and still expect him to do business with you. Even if he deserved to be called all those names.
As Jason Kruger did.
There was nothing she could do but continue on. Talk to Jason, present her plan, and hope for the best. Though he’d probably be less than happy to see her again, Amanda consoled herself with the thought that the worst he could do was say no. He certainly wouldn’t toss her over his shoulder, lash her to the wagon, and send the team careening down his mountain, back to Beaumont.
Amanda shifted her satchel from one hand to the other. Her future lay inside this cookhouse, in the hands of Jason Kruger. She drew in a deep breath and walked inside.
Rows of long tables holding platters of food filled the room. Men crowded the benches eating from tin plates, drinking steaming coffee from tin cups. The cook, a round-bellied man in a soiled apron, stood in the corner. The men kept their heads down, eating and talking while young boys, the cook’s helpers, scurried down the aisles refilling cups, bringing more platters of food.
Amanda raised on tiptoes looking over the sea of bobbing heads. There must have been fifty men here and she wasn’t sure how she’d find Jason among them.
A man seated at the table nearest Amanda noticed her. He did a double take, elbowed the man beside him, and pointed.
That man looked, then the one seated beside him looked, until the whole table was staring. Their hands stilled halfway to their mouths.
The table beside those men noticed Amanda, then the next table, and the next.
Silence crossed the cookhouse like ripples in a pond. No metal forks clicked against tin plates. No coffee slurped from cups. The cook’s helpers stopped between the tables. The room froze in reverent silence.
Fifty faces turned to Amanda. Fifty pairs of eyes widened. Fifty jaws sagged.
The thought that she was glad she’d dressed for the moment skittered through Amanda’s head.
Across the room, in the far corner, one man rose from the table. Tall. Wide chest. Straight shoulders.
Thoughtless, inconsiderate, rude.
Handsome.
Jason Kruger.
Amanda’s heart sped up urging her to run. Toward him, or away from him? She wasn’t sure.
Jason charged across the room frowning and scowling even more than last night. For an instant Amanda wondered if she’d been wrong. Might he do something worse than simply say no? Being lashed to a wagon careening down the mountain didn’t seem outside of the realm of possibility at the moment.
Jason stopped in front of her, towering over her, crowding her. His glare gave off heat. It ensnared Amanda, refusing to let her back away.
She gazed up at his hard, angry face. “Good morning, Mr. Kruger.”
“What the hell are you—”
Jason stopped and glanced back at the men sitting like fifty statues at the tables. He lowered his voice.
“What are you doing in here?”
“I have a business proposition to discuss with you, Mr. Kruger.”
He nodded toward the door. “Get outside.”
Amanda’s spine stiffened and her chin went up. “Mr. Kruger, I will not be ordered about like a servant.”
Jason pressed his lips together, holding in his simmering anger. “Miss Pierce, would you kindly step outside? Before you get yourself mauled by fifty men?”
Amanda peeked around Jason at the men staring at her. “They seem harmless to me.”
“Some of these men haven’t laid eyes on a woman like you in months.”
“A woman like me?” Amanda asked. “And what sort of woman would that be?”
Jason faltered. His angry expression collapsed as his gaze raked her from head to toe. His lips twitched as if he wanted to spit out a mouthful of words, but he held them in.
“Would you just go outside?” Jason glared down at her. “Please?”
The morning sunlight crept over the treetops as Amanda stepped out of the cookhouse. Before she could pause, Jason clamped onto her elbow and propelled her across the road. The chatter inside the cookhouse started up again.
Jason stared at her and tugged down on his hat brim, bringing it lower over his eyes.
“Look, Miss Pierce, I haven’t got a lot of time. I’ve got a business to run. I’m sorry you got hauled up here for nothing, but I’m not going to marry you and that’s all there is to it.”
“As it happens, Mr. Kruger, I have no desire to marry you,” Amanda said.
He looked offended now. “How’s that?”
“As you said last night, the letter I received was a mistake,” Amanda said. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t work out a mutually beneficial arrangement.”
“You don’t want to marry me, but you think we could work out some sort of arrangement?” Jason looked hard at her and dragged the back of his hand across his mouth. His lips twitched again. “What, exactly, did you have in mind, Miss Pierce?”
“I think my services are exactly what you need, Mr. Kruger.”
He shifted from one foot to the other. “Your services?”
“Yes,” Amanda said. “Your logging camp is a long way from Beaumont and even there you’ll find few women to choose from. The proper kind of woman, if you get my meaning.”
He scratched his chin. “I think I do.”
“Life up here on the mountain must get very lonely at times. The work is hard. A certain amount of comfort in the evening would go a long way toward making life more enjoyable. Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Kruger?”
He nodded. “Oh, yeah. I’d agree with that, all right.”
Amanda had rehearsed her sales pitch on the way from Meg’s house this morning hoping Jason would go along with her idea to bring brides onto his mountain. And he seemed to be quite taken with the idea, so much so that he was starting to perspire.
“Perhaps we should go into your office and get down to business?” she asked.
“Now?” His eyes widened. “Right now? You and me? In my office? Now?”
“If you’re not too busy, that is.”
“Too busy?”
Voices carried across the road as the loggers streamed out of the cookhouse. The men filed past, some tipping their hats to Amanda, some simply staring.
Amanda lifted her satchel. “Should I approach the men now while they’re assembled? I have pictures.”
“Pictures?”
