waged war inside her. He didn’t look dangerous. Lying there in her sister’s old bed, he looked forlorn. In need of a helping hand. And if they didn’t help him, who would? They had ample space, food to spare, and, unlike many households in these mountains, there were no children underfoot. He’d have peace and quiet to speed his recovery.
This blond-haired, blue-eyed stranger was someone’s son. Possibly someone’s brother or cousin or even husband. If one of her loved ones was in the same predicament, she’d be begging God to keep him safe. To place him in the path of decent people.
While Jessica wasn’t pleased with her mother’s decision, offering him shelter and meeting his basic needs didn’t mean she had to suspend caution. Even before her life became entangled with Lee Cavanaugh’s, her outlook hadn’t been all sunshine and rainbows. Now it was positively morose. She anticipated the worst. Expected people to fail her. Or deceive her.
God was no doubt displeased with this manner of thinking, but she wasn’t sure how to undo what had been done.
He stirred, the quilt covering his lower body sliding low on his waist. His bloodied shirt had been disposed of, and a long-sleeved white cotton undershirt hugged his shoulders, sculpted chest and flat stomach. Thick padding covered his wound beneath the fabric.
The man would benefit from a bath and a shave. He wore his fair hair short on the sides, with slightly longer strands sweeping over his forehead. The brown cast of his skin indicated he worked outdoors.
“How long have I been out?”
His raspy inquiry snapped her out of her inspection. “Nearly an hour. I’ve brought you soup and some buttered bread. Do you feel up to eating?”
Hefting himself up so that the headboard supported his back, he studied the tray’s contents. “I’ll try the bread first, thanks.”
When he’d finished, she handed him the still-warm bowl. “The soup is rather strong. If it’s not to your liking, I can make a thin broth.”
“No need to go to any extra trouble.” His disconcerting gaze locked on her, he tested it. “It’s very good.”
“Did Doc give you anything for that busted lip?”
The bowl cradled against his chest, he shook his head. “It’ll heal soon enough.”
“Why didn’t you want anything for the pain?” She gestured to the padding beneath his shirt. “Must’ve been horrible.”
“Medicine messes with your head. I figure mine’s messed up enough.” Shadows passed over his face. “Plus, I’m uncomfortable with the idea of not being in control of my actions.”
A stilted silence blanketed them. When he’d polished off half the contents and handed the bowl back to her, he rested his folded hands on his middle.
“I didn’t expect to wake and find you watching over me.”
The muted mischief in his eyes needled her. “That’s not what I was doing,” she huffed.
“Why don’t you tell me the true reason, then? Afraid I might swipe something of your sister’s?”
She arched a brow at him. “It’s been decided that you will remain here until you’ve recuperated.”
“I can tell you’re pleased.” Wry humor touched his mobile mouth.
He would laugh at her, would he? Her movements measured, she made a show of removing the Colt Lightning from her ankle holster. Barrel pointed to the wall, she lazily spun the full chamber. “I have no problem protecting what’s mine.” She smiled tightly. “A benefit from growing up with three competitive, slightly overbearing males.”
Her warning didn’t shock or anger him. If anything, his humor increased, joined by open admiration. “A woman who can take care of herself. I like that. So you have brothers?”
“Cousins. Their family’s property adjoins ours.”
“And you have one sister?”
“Four, actually. I’m the youngest.”
“Are you the only one still living at home?”
The question was innocent enough, yet it unleashed a rock slide of hurt and disappointment. She was the last unwed O’Malley sister. Growing up, Jessica hadn’t obsessed over boys, hadn’t daydreamed about her future husband. She’d wanted a family of her own, of course. Someday. Once she’d reached marriageable age, she’d become friendly with a few interesting men. Nothing serious had developed. She’d been content with her single life until a dashing young man from Virginia moved to town. Suddenly, love and marriage became a priority. She’d wanted it all.
She replaced her weapon. “My life’s details aren’t important. Yours are. Doc thinks you should think up a name for yourself.”
His expression altered, and she almost felt sorry she’d introduced the subject.
“Right. I suppose I do need one.” His exhale was shaky. “Nothing comes to mind.”
“You could choose something classic, like John or James. Or you could go with a decidedly Biblical name, like Hezekiah. Or Malachi.”
The softening of his mouth gave Jessica a strange feeling...something akin to satisfaction that she’d lightened his burden.
“Any more suggestions?” he said.
She strove for something unexpected. “Wiley? Fentress?”
“This is too bizarre.”
“If I were you, I’d settle on something simple. You don’t want to get too attached.”
“On the other hand, I might be saddled with this name for the rest of my life.” He absently rubbed the knot behind his ear.
“You remind me of a boy I went to school with. His name was Grant Harper.”
That startled him out of his melancholy. “I do?”
“He had the same fair coloring as you.” And the same roguish streak cloaked in innocence.
“What happened to him?” His eyes narrowed.
“Nothing dramatic. His family moved away about five years ago to be closer to his grandparents.”
He stared up at the rafters, quiet for long minutes. “Grant, huh?”
“What do you think? Can you live with it?”
“It’ll do. Just don’t expect me to answer to it right away.”
“Understood.” She rose to leave.
“Jessica?” His expression turned earnest. “You have nothing to fear from me. I won’t harm you or your mother.”
She didn’t answer. Nodding, she left him, all too aware of how convincing a person could be when the stakes were high.
* * *
He
