Oklahoma Sweetheart

His horse waited patiently, and Connor tossed his saddlebags over the gelding’s hindquarters. His clothing was packed tightly in one, his personal belongings in the other. His extra pair of boots took up a lot of space, but they were too good to leave behind. Anything else he needed could be bought from the general store.

“I’ll be back to get my horses,” he told his father, riding the gelding to where the man stood. “Probably tomorrow.”

“You know which ones belong to you.” The words sounded harsh, but Connor knew that the man who spoke them was deeply hurt by his son leaving, and he could not blame him for his attitude. Maybe someday things would be set to rights.

And maybe not.

“If Hank Carpenter from Turley County comes by to see me, you can tell him I’m at the old Stewart place, the other side of town, next to Benson’s.”

“He wantin’ one of your horses?”

“Either that or he wants me to train one he has already.”

“I’ll let him know.”

“Thanks, Pa.” Above all else, his father was an honest man, and if he said he’d send Connor’s new customer to him, he was to be believed. Raising and training horses was Connor’s first choice. But farming ran a close second. Fortunately, they could be combined, so long as he had a barn and some land to plant. Even though it wasn’t going to be the place where he was born and raised that would receive the benefit of his skills and hard work.

Loris met him at the back door, noted the grim set of his jaw, and merely pointed toward the hallway where the stairs climbed to the second floor. He walked past her, carrying his belongings. She watched him go, thinking how much alike they were in this situation. That her clothing consisted of what Connor had bought her, that she’d come almost empty-handed to this place. And now, he’d left home and family and all else that he called his own to stay with her.

“The second door on the right.” She called to him as he reached the hallway.

He turned to look down at her with dark eyes that seemed to see within her, measuring her body and reading her thoughts. “Is it your room? You know I’m planning on staying here a long time, Loris. I’m going to take care of you, and that arrangement starts right now.” His gaze was straightforward, giving her notice of his plans.

She drew in a deep breath, and then shook her head. “No, that’s not my bedroom.”

His eyes narrowed and she thought his knuckles grew white on the bags he held. But his voice was flat and without anger when he spoke again. “Which one is yours?”

“Right across the hall.” She held her breath as he met her gaze for a long minute, and then growled words that did not surprise her.

“Then that’s my room, too.” Turning, he walked through the doorway of the bedroom she’d claimed for herself, and she heard the distinct sound of dresser drawers opening, of his bags hitting the floor, and then the noise of his boots as he walked across the uncarpeted floor.

She was a long way from being upset with him. She’d given him the choice, allowed him the chance to have a room and bed of his own, and he’d turned her down. It was what she’d expected, and though she felt a twinge of unease, her heart sang with the knowledge that he wanted to be with her. Wanted to sleep in her bed…and most of all, he planned on taking his place in this home.

I’m going to take care of you, and that arrangementstarts right now.

He’d certainly made that plain enough.

Her lips curved in a secret sort of smile as she returned to the kitchen. She’d put bacon on top of a pan of beans, adding all the ingredients her mother had used for the one-dish meal at home. Onions, tomatoes, brown sugar and a bit of mustard flavored the beans, and the thick slices of bacon made it even more palatable.

“Smells good in here.” Connor came back to the kitchen, hat and coat in hand, then hung them on pegs by the back door. He took warm water from the reservoir on the side of the stove and began to wash up, dousing his face and then using the soap to scrub his hands and arms, all the way up past his elbows. His shirtsleeves were rolled up neatly, and Loris had a hard time keeping her eyes from him.

He walked up behind her as she stirred a small skillet of fried potatoes. “Is that bacon I smell?”

She thought for a moment he’d leaned close enough to kiss her neck, but instead felt the brush of his hands smoothing back her hair and then holding her shoulders in a firm grip.

“Beans and bacon. Just like my mama used to make at home. She’s a good cook.”

“I’d say by the looks of your dog, he thinks you’re not bad, either.” Rusty had been sitting at her side as she worked in the kitchen, as if he delighted in his responsibility. In return she’d managed to find a few bits and pieces to toss his way, and he peered up at her with a foolish look, his tongue lolling out of his mouth, a soft woof stating his pleasure.

“That dog likes you,” Connor said.

“I hope so. At least he seems to think his main job in life is to stick close by.”

“That’s exactly what I wanted him to do,” Connor told her. “Now, how can I help? Maybe set the table?”

“If you want to. I can do it if you’re tired and want to sit down with a cup of coffee.”

“I’d rather help.” He knew his way around a kitchen, she noticed. His hands held the plates and silverware easily, the cup handles riding on his fingers. “Should I wipe off the oilcloth first?”

In answer, she located the dishcloth and rinsed it in clear water, then squeezed it almost dry. A quick toss across the table delivered it to his hand and he grinned his thanks.

Before long Loris had browned the potatoes nicely, the table was cleaned and set, the chairs moved to their proper places, and Connor was back at her side. “When the beans are done, I’ll take them out of the oven for you,” he offered.

“All right.” She was happy to accede to him, preferring to finish off the odds and ends of the meal. “I’ve already sliced bread and I found a jar of applesauce in the pantry. I suspect we’ll have enough to eat.”

Connor heaped his plate with the hot food she’d provided and worked his way through the meal without comment, only pausing to butter a slice of bread. He leaned back in his chair finally, his plate clean, his hunger apparently appeased.

“Your mother’s cooking must have rubbed off on you, Loris. You made a fine meal. The beans and bacon were good.”

“I noticed that Rusty enjoyed them, too,” she said archly. “He seems to know a soft touch when he sees one.”

“Well, he’s a discerning sort of dog. Knows good food when he gets some handed to him.”

She felt a flush of success at his words. “Mama tried to teach me how to cook and keep house. I’m afraid I wasn’t a very good pupil at some of the tasks she set for me, but I know how to use a scrub board and if there’s a pair of sad irons here, I can iron your clothes.”

“I saw some in the cellar,” he told her. “Though why they were down there is a mystery. Maybe it’s just an extra pair. My mother had two pair, one a bit heavier than the other. She said some things needed more weight.”

“I’ll look in the pantry. There may be a pair there, and it seems like a logical spot to store them. Maybe there’s an ironing board there, too, back in the corner.”

Connor stood, lifting his plate from the table and turning to the sink. Loris followed him quickly, brushing past him to place her own dishes in the sink. And then, as if they had done these small chores together a hundred times before, she handed him a large saucepan.

“If you’ll bring water from the stove, I’ll put these to soak while I clear up in here.”

He did as she asked, then poured coffee from the pot into his cup and settled at the table once more. Straightening the kitchen was a simple thing to accomplish, but he admired her movements as she worked, watched the swing of her skirts as she moved back and forth from table to cupboard, then to the pantry and back again. She paused to find an old metal pan and filled it with water from the pump for Rusty’s benefit.

Her dress moved with a swaying motion and he couldn’t be certain if it were something she’d acquired recently. Perhaps he hadn’t noticed it before, but now it struck him as enticing, her hips moving a bit beneath the full skirt, her feet skimming the surface of the wide floorboards.

“You walk as if you’re dancing,” he mused, and was treated to a quick glance in his direction, as her cheeks grew rosy and her eyes sparkled.

“You’re imagining things,” she said tartly, but her pleasure at his words was visible. Her mouth tightened in an inviting fashion, one he’d noticed before, luring him into her presence. It was a simple thing to stand and approach her as she came from the pantry. Her hands were empty, the bread stored on a shelf, the butter placed into a covered dish for the night.

He gave her little choice, his arms enclosing her lightly, as if he were about to dance with her, and for a moment, he thought he almost heard the music that would accompany them.

Loris looked up at him with a smile that encouraged him in his pursuit of her. Her lips curved and her blue eyes darkened, even as he watched. “You make me feel…safe, as though I’m at home here with you,” she said softly.

“Feeling safe is not what I want you to think about when I hold you this way. I’d like to know that I tempt you a bit.” He grinned down at her uplifted face and planted a damp kiss on her forehead. “Surely you know you’re a temptation to me, Loris.”

“I can’t—”