The Wedding Bargain

“You’ll need some to top off that apple cobbler,” the woman insisted.

Apparently Olivia planned to do some baking. Drew marveled at her easy adaptability.

Olivia waved farewell to her new friend—she obviously had a knack for collecting them—and fell into step beside him. She was so small, reaching only up to his shirt collar. Her step was light, graceful.

All the way back to the cabin, Olivia stuck close to his side—less than a foot away. He felt dizzy from the scent of flowers. More than once, he regretted teasing her about hungry bears. Now he had to endure her nearness.

Then there was her soft voice, the bounce in her step, the gleam in her smile, the soft accidental brush of her hand against his—all guaranteed to wear down his resistance.

Was it all innocent?

Or was it only wishful thinking on his part?

They walked back to the cabin along the same track they’d found the day before. The woods were thick, endless, stretching in every direction. It would be easy to get lost in them.

The cabin greeted them like an old friend.

Built of roughhewn logs, weathered and burnished to a soft gray, it glowed in the midday sun. The sunny glen seemed far from the immediate past.

And the future.

He had today. All anyone had really. Who knew what tomorrow would bring? He smiled wryly, admitting that Olivia’s optimism was beginning to rub off on him.

She made lunch.

Either he was starving, or it was the best tuna casserole he’d ever eaten. Chin in hand, with her elbow leaning against the edge of the table, Olivia inched the serving dish closer.

“There’s more,” she offered.

Recognizing that enticing feminine note, Drew pushed away from the table and stood. “No, thank you.”

It would take more than a combination of canned tuna, condensed mushroom soup and noodles to seduce him.

He grabbed for an escape hatch. “The farmer’s wife took quite a shine to you. I’m sure she’d let you stay the night.”

At the suggestion, Olivia shook her head. “But I don’t know her. I can’t just intrude. Besides, I’m comfortable here.”

Drew had only known Olivia for one day—it felt longer—but he recognized that stubborn tilt to her chin. Knowing he was fighting a losing battle, he persisted. “Hasn’t it occurred to you by now that you shouldn’t trust me?”

She smiled at him. “But I do trust you. If you intended me any harm, you’d have done something about it by now.”

“Not necessarily.”

“Well, you’ve left behind a trail of witnesses, starting back at the diner. Then there’s Walt, and the farmer’s wife.”

“Spoken like a true cop’s daughter,” he said with an edge, frustrated at his inability to simply walk away from her.

Shrugging off his bad humor, Olivia started to gather the dishes. “So what are we going to do with the rest of the day?”

We?

Drew raised an eyebrow. “Not bored already, are you?”

“Not exactly, but I like to keep busy. I wish I’d brought some needlework with me. I never expected this kind of delay.”

She looked around. “This place could use a good cleaning.”

“Why bother?” As usual, the feminine mind was a mystery.

“I could start on the windows—after the dishes, of course.”

With a smooth move, she shoved a stack of plates, cups and saucers at him. “What’s this?” he asked.

“Dishes. You wash and I’ll dry,” she said.

“Right.” He looked down at the messy collection. He’d never washed a dish in his life!

At his hesitation, Olivia frowned. “That is, unless you’d rather dry?”