that almost every time she gets into trouble, it’s after Brady and I have had some sort of exchange about his schoolwork. I believe one reason she acts out is to take my attention away from her brother.”
Colt looked dumbfounded. “She’s always been protective of him, so that makes a strange sort of sense,” he said after a moment. “Sometimes I think she’s trying to take the place of her mother.”
While Allison tucked that bit of information into a corner of her mind to ponder later, he explained how Cilla was feeling sorry for herself over not having a mother to instruct her in the ladylike pursuits her schoolmates enjoyed.
“She also told me they tried to wreck my relationships because they’re afraid a stepmother might take me away from them, and a new wife will have children that I will love more than I do them.”
“You can’t be serious!”
“I assure you I’m quite serious,” he said. “Where do they come up with all these strange notions?”
“Never having had children, I couldn’t say.”
“I may as well tell you that she has a problem with you, too.”
“Me?” Allison’s shock was apparent. “What sort of problem can she possibly have with me? It isn’t as if you’re looking at me as a candidate to become their stepmother.” A rush of color flooded her cheeks the instant the words left her lips.
“No, no, nothing like that,” he replied, his agreement blunt and crisp. “Uh, Cilla says you’re too...happy all the time.”
Allison’s jaw dropped. Amused despite the confession, she shook her head and a totally unexpected and unprofessional giggle escaped her. “Well, that’s one for the books.”
“Here you go!” Ellie said, setting a plate piled high with a mouthwatering array of breakfast goodies in front of Colt and a piece of dry toast and a single soft fried egg in front of Allison.
She eyed his plate of eggs, ham, grits, biscuits and a small bowl of gravy with an expression of pure envy. How long had it been since she’d enjoyed a real breakfast? She glanced at Colt and saw that in complete contrast to his earlier grim seriousness, there was the barest hint of a smile in his eyes.
“I tried to tell you.”
A yearning sigh escaped her, but not for the food this time. No doubt about it, the man could be potentially fatal to a lady’s heart!
Get hold of yourself, Allison Grainger. Every single woman in town would agree that he’s attractive. Most of those same women have been dated by him and nixed by his children, so just stop drooling over him like a dog over a ham bone and get back to the business at hand.
Gathering the remnants of her scattered wits, Allison forced a prim smile and picked up her knife and fork.
“I’d be glad to share.”
“No, thank you.” She gave a quick mental thank-you for her food, took a small bite of the egg and chewed slowly. She wasn’t sure why, but she hated eating in front of people she didn’t know, especially men.
“I’m not sure what I can do about my...irritating happiness,” she said after washing down the bite of egg with another sip of coffee. “Except for a few years after losing someone I loved very much, I’ve more or less always tried to have a positive outlook, no matter what came my way. I believe with all my heart that God bestows so many blessings on us that we ought not whine and sulk or be angry when difficulties do crop up.”
“And what about your behavior when you came into my office yesterday?”
Her guilty gaze flew to his. Oh, dear! She hoped this conversation would not decline into another shouting match. To her eternal thankfulness, she saw that he was not provoking her at all. In fact, the expression in his eyes held more curiosity than challenge.
“I was afraid you’d bring that up,” she said with a shake of her head. “I can’t apologize enough. It was not at all like me.”
“I believe you.” The simple acknowledgment made, he asked, “Perhaps I’m prying, but who was it that you loved and lost?”
“My fiancé.”
The shock on his face might have been comical if it hadn’t hurt so much to realize that he seemed surprised that she had caught the attention of any man.
“Believe it or not, Sheriff, some men look beyond the exterior of a woman.”
Once more, discomfiture flushed his rugged features.
“I’m well aware of that, Miss Grainger. All men should do the same. It’s just that Ellie never mentioned anything about you having had a man in your life. Do you mind if I ask what happened?”
She regarded him for several seconds. The last thing she wanted was for Colt Garrett to feel sorry for her.
“I do, actually,” she told him. “It’s something I seldom talk about.”
He nodded in understanding and returned his attention to his breakfast, ending that line of conversation.
Allison spoke up, her voice once again professional. “At least what you’ve told me has given me some ideas. I think we should work on involving Cilla in activities that will make her feel as if she has more in common with girls her age. Of course, it will be up to her to decide which pursuits she’d like to try.” Her forehead wrinkled in thought. “I can check to see if Hattie has room for any new piano students.”
“She might like that,” Colt said with a nod.
“As for sewing and such, it so happens that I am quite an accomplished seamstress. In fact, I make all my clothes. But I fear my other handwork is passable at best. My sister Belinda does beautiful embroidery and petit point, and Ellie is quite good herself. I tend to attack it,” she added, almost as an afterthought.
“Attack it?”
A memory surfaced, and, their earlier tiff forgotten, her lips curved and her smiling gaze met his. “My mother used to tell me that I wasn’t supposed to go at it like I was killing snakes, that it was designed to be a pleasurable ladies’ pursuit, but once I start a piece, all I can think of is how soon I can finish.”
Colt’s gaze clung to hers a moment longer before he began to saw at a piece of ham with unusual fervor. Like her earlier giggle, the smile did amazing things to her appearance. They ate in silence for several moments...an awkward silence, to be sure.
Allison used her last bite of toast to mop up the rich yellow yolk on her plate. Colt forked up a bite of biscuit, swirled it through some milk gravy and popped it into his mouth, leaving a tiny smudge clinging to the corner of his upper lip. Before she realized what she was going to do, she reached out, leaned across the table and wiped at the smear with her napkin.
Warm, calloused fingers circled her wrist.
She gasped, mortified by her spontaneous action, excited by the feel of his fingers against her skin.
“I...I’m so sorry,” she apologized in a whisper, aware that the pulse in her wrist was throbbing wildly beneath
