Last Chance Bride

She self-consciously dipped her chin. “I hope I’m not bothering you.”

“Not at all.” He stepped forward.

“I need to speak to you about my rent.” She tucked her lush bottom lip between her teeth, looking uncertain.

He grabbed hold of the worn-smooth handle of his favorite pitchfork. “Seems to me your rent is a matter you should talk about with Mrs. Baker.”

Her eyes searched his. “I know you are the one, and it has to stop. Not that I don’t appreciate it.”

He wished so much could be different between them. “I’m glad to help out, Elizabeth. You refused my money, if you remember.”

She remembered the heat of his mouth over hers, burning a blessed sensation straight through her belly. In the dim interior of the barn, she could see only Jacob’s shadow. She moved closer. Make him understand how important this is to her.

The comforting scent of wood smoke and new hay filled her nose. The same scent clung to Jacob’s clothes the few times she’d been close to him.

“I want to pay my own way, Jacob. I need to do it.”

Jacob moved toward her with a slow, hesitant gait, gripping his pitchfork. “Maybe I need to help you.”

“But you should be trying to find Emma a mother, not worrying over me.” Although she wanted him to.

“Somebody has to care about you. Have you given a thought to what you will do when that baby comes?”

He eased into the spill of sunshine through the wide stable door. He wore trousers and no shirt. Sweat glistened across the mesmerizing expanse of his muscled chest, touched by the sun.

She had never seen such a chest. She had never seen such a man. He isn’t yours to touch, Libby. Her face hot, she dipped her chin. “I’m getting along considerably well at the boardinghouse, and I’ve found a job.”

“Not as a seamstress,” he corrected, as if he knew all about her position serving men their meals.

“It was the only job I could find. Mr. Oleson offered to hire me as a dancing girl in his saloon, but I had to decline. Apart from my...condition I don’t know how to dance.”

Jacob’s rich chuckle vibrated across her skin. “I know a few dances. My mother taught me.”

“My aunt thought dancing was sinful.” Libby fingered the soft bundle she held. “I suppose the sort of dancing in Mr. Oleson’s parlor might be considered that.”

“The new minister in town thinks so. He’s started to picket some of those establishments.”

“Sometimes the women joining him spill over onto Leah’s front steps and keep away the hotel’s business. It makes her furious.” Libby’s smile faded. “Will you stop giving Maude free board for her horse?”

“No.” His eyes turned somber, pinching thoughtfully in the corners. “You need my help, Elizabeth.”

What kind of woman did he think she was?

“No, I don’t need you,” she said, chin lifted. “I’ve never depended on a man’s generosity, and I’m not about to do it now. I have always managed just fine on my own, no matter what you think of me.”

Face flaming, Libby turned, the bundle in her hands forgotten as she walked as fast as she could toward the street.

“Don’t leave. Please.” His voice echoed in the loft overhead. “Do you have a moment?”

Libby considered his words, then stopped. She couldn’t look back at him. “I was on my way to the hotel.”

“Let me buy you a glass of lemonade over at the diner so we can talk.”

Talk. Libby’s stomach flipped over. Looking at him made her want him. He wasn’t hers to have. “I—I start work soon.”

Jacob nodded, as if that suited him fine, and held up one finger indicating she should wait.

Wait? She should hightail it out of here and put as much distance between them as humanly possible. He didn’t want her, would never love her. But she wanted him to.

Jacob appeared from the back of the stable, now wearing a plain blue muslin shirt, open at the collar. It had been tucked hastily into his trousers and looked sadly wrinkled.

“Has Jane left?”

“What gave you that idea?” He smiled ruefully. “I never learned how to iron. Without Jane, I use the laundry in town, but by the time I get the clothes home, they look like this.”

“What does Emma say about it?”

“She says I ought to get myself a wife. That there’s a nice lady living in town I could ask.” His joke failed. The light left his eyes. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s all right.” But it wasn’t. As they walked the half block together, she felt his gaze stray to her stomach.

He held open the door of the diner and smiled as if... Libby tried not to complete that thought. He was just being polite.

“We’ll have two glasses of lemonade,” Jacob informed the young woman who wandered into sight. “Let’s sit near the window,” he said to Libby.

Libby sat down while Jacob folded himself into a too small chair. The opened window gave her something to look at besides Jacob.

“I guess I really just wanted to know how you are doing. If you need anything.” Concern rumbled in his voice.

And brought tears to her eyes. She blinked hard. “How is Emma doing?”

“She misses Jane. I haven’t found anyone to replace her yet”

Would he find someone to replace me? Libby laid the cloth bundle she carried on the clean table. She waited as the young woman placed two ice-filled glasses between them. Fresh, sour-sweet lemonade scented the air.

“What do you have there?” he asked.

“Something for Emma. If you will let her have them.” Waiting for his rejection, she unwrapped the small bundle of clothes. Folds of happy calico and gingham peeked out from the soft flannel. Aprons. Bonnets. Dresses. Nightgowns. Shoes.

“Elizabeth, I don’t think—” He fisted his hands. “Emma will get her hopes up.”

“Then don’t tell her they are from me. Say you bought them. It’s important to me she has these for her doll.”

“Why?”

Libby rubbed the condensation from the glass. “I had planned to finish the clothes before I arrived, but time got the best of me. It isn’t Emma’s fault I didn’t sew them before I arrived.”

Jacob’s face twisted. “Emma will know they came from you.”