someone to share his life with.
God, I don’t understand Your ways. Nothing is turning out the way I thought, and it’s hard. So hard.
“Time for dessert.” His mother placed a warm pecan pie in the middle of the table.
Standing, Josh brought his empty plate to the counter. “I’ll pass tonight.”
“But it’s your favorite,” Mary protested, carrying dishes into the kitchen.
He squeezed her shoulder. “Save me a piece for tomorrow?”
Kate approached, her plate still half full. “You are a marvelous cook, Mary. However, I’m afraid I couldn’t finish it all.” She smothered a yawn.
“Oh, my. You’ve had a long day, haven’t you, dear?” Mary said. “Joshua, will you walk Kate out to the cabin?”
His and Kate’s gazes clashed. Then her lashes swept downward, her expression neutral.
What could he say? No, I don’t want to spend even a second alone with her? This woman reminds me of Francesca’s treachery and my glaring failure.
He swept out his arm. “After you.”
Chapter Three
With her hat in one hand and her skirts in the other, Kate swept past him onto the narrow porch, her shoulder brushing against his chest and a stray chocolate curl caressing her cheek. The creamy skin of her nape glowed alabaster in the moonlight. Her fresh, citrusy scent, carried on the gentle breeze, filled his nostrils and stirred his blood.
Closing the door behind him, Josh inhaled the cool, pine-scented air in an effort to displace her scent. Kate was a lovely woman, and he was a man craving comfort. Disgusted with himself for even noticing, he gave her a wide berth and started across the lawn.
“Mr. O’Malley?”
She hadn’t moved an inch. From the soft golden glow spilling through the windows, he saw her hesitation and retraced his steps.
“It’s Josh. What’s wrong? Did you forget something inside?”
“No. I, um—It’s pitch-black out there.” Her voice faltered. “Back home, gas streetlamps line the streets and give off quite a bit of light.”
He held the kerosene lamp aloft. “This will light our way.”
An owl hooted. Kate’s gaze darted to the dense woods. “What about wild beasts? I’ve read a few books about this area. There were accounts of black bears attacking people.”
He suppressed a smile. “While it’s true there are bears in these parts, they normally stay in higher elevations. Bear attacks are rare and most likely the result of someone coming too close to a momma bear and her cubs.”
He approached and held out his arm, but she didn’t immediately take it.
“So you’ve never seen a bear anywhere near here?”
“I didn’t say that. But mostly they keep to themselves.”
Her slender hand curled around his biceps, the warmth of her light touch seeping through his shirt. “I’m safe out here then?”
He guided her across the yard. “I can pretty much guarantee a bear isn’t going to break into the cabin while you sleep. You should watch out for snakes, though, especially rattlers and copperheads.”
Her nails dug into his skin. “Snakes?”
“And spiders,” he added, disregarding the twinge of his conscience. He was only telling her the truth. “Black widows and brown recluses are the ones to watch out for. Nasty bites. You could lose a limb.”
“Oh, dear.” She shuddered. “My books didn’t mention any of that.”
“Just be careful around tall grass. And don’t reach into dark corners and crevices where crawling insects like to hide.” He pulled away from her. “Here we are.”
Opening the door for her, his gaze fell on the burst of color in the corner of the room. More wildflowers. He’d borrowed his mother’s only crystal vase and placed the arrangement on the dining table as a small token for his wife-to-be.
He frowned. This night was supposed to have played out much differently. He’d imagined Francesca’s reaction to the home he’d built for her, had hoped she’d be pleased.
Instead, a stranger stood beside him.
Moving forward, her skirts whispering in the silence, Kate’s gaze assessed the airy, open space that made up the seating area and kitchen.
“You built this yourself?”
He nodded. “With help from my father and brothers.”
“You did a great job.” The admiration shining in her eyes was a soothing balm to his battered soul.
“Thanks.”
In the kitchen, she trailed her fingers along the gleaming walnut tabletop. Her gaze shot to his, a small wrinkle between her brows.
“This is similar to the one at your parents’, only smaller.”
It was one of his most recent pieces, carved with his own hands. For some reason he couldn’t identify, he was reluctant to tell her about his furniture business. Not even Francesca knew.
Slipping his hands into his pockets, he asked casually, “Do you like it?”
She stepped back to study it. “It’s sturdy, solid. Simple lines. But here—” she traced a fingertip along the carved edge “—this is truly magnificent. The detail of the leaves and flowers is amazing. Was it done by a local craftsman?”
He hesitated. “Yes.”
“Does he live nearby?”
Closer than you think. “Yes. Very near.”
“You should tell him his furniture would sell extremely well back East.” Her praise brought a rush of pleasure, especially considering her family’s estate was most likely furnished with the finest money could buy.
“I’ll do that.”
She smothered another yawn. Time to go. He wasn’t sure why he’d lingered anyway.
“Good night, Kate.” He paused. “Lock the door. You’ll feel safer.”
Kate stared at the closed door a full minute before crossing the room to slide the wooden bar in place. His woodsy scent lingered in the silent room. He’d been stiff, watchful, his blue eyes revealing his misery. Oh, Fran. How could you?
Her heart ached for the pain he was enduring.
Turning, she relaxed against the rough wood and stared at the home intended for her sister. Prestige and money were everything to Fran. If she were
