direction, but was at a loss to interpret any of that undecipherable man’s thoughts.
“I’m off to bed, I think.” She smiled at him and walked down the hallway to her bedroom. She had changed into a nightdress and was taking the pins out of her hair, when someone knocked lightly. Her breath caught in her throat and she padded to the door, opened it just wide enough to peek out. Garret stood outside, leaning up against the doorframe, and looked every bit like he regretted knocking in the first place.
His gaze took in the sliver of her nightdress and the dark locks visible that tumbled over her shoulders. “I’m going to bed. Just wanted to tell you happy birthday. And good night,” he added.
“Good night, Garret.” She shut the door gently, and back pressed against it, waited for her breathing to steady. If she’d lost herself in his blue eyes any longer, she might have lost her wits.
She touched her lips and for the hundredth time, the tender kiss he’d given her on their wedding day came to her. She didn’t know how it was to be with a man, but sometimes caught herself thinking it wouldn’t be so bad if he were a man who looked and kissed like Garret Shaw.
Chapter 8
“Mornin’, Maggie,” Garret said from his seat at the kitchen table.
He had fried up some eggs and made her a plate. The stubble on his face was already starting to come in, though he’d shaved the day before. Sparse, but dark and made the angles of his face attractive. The first day after he shaved was when he was most beautiful. His blue eyes seemed even brighter when surrounded by all his dark, silky hair.
“Maggie?” Eyebrows raised, he looked at her as if she might have lost her mind.
Embarrassing heat touched her cheeks. Of course. “Good morning,” she said a little too cheerily in an attempt to break the awkward moment.
He shook his head and went back to pulling his boots on. Taking advantage of his distraction, she plopped down on a chair and started on her breakfast. Since coming to Rockdale, her appetite had increased. Probably due to the physical and emotional work life here seemed to entail.
“I’m going to be out with the cattle for the bulk of the day,” Garret said. “The rain’s let up and I need to get them fed properly and drive them closer to the smaller pond in the back. It should be nice and full now to keep ’em. The boys are still back in town so it’ll take me a while.” As he pulled on his jacket, he cast her a look that brooked no argument. “You saddle Buck and keep him that way. Tie him to the porch and stick close to Lenny today. If you see anyone coming, you head straight back to the pond and come get me, you hear?”
She nodded instead of answering lest a blob of eggs flop unbecomingly from her mouth. It wasn’t the impression she wanted him to leave with for the day.
He put his hat on and fastened a leather belt with pistols to his waist in a practiced movement. “Let me clean your hands before I go.”
He pulled up a pot and sloshed some water into it, set it on the stove and dragged a chair closer to her then unwrapped her hands. The salve was still damp but well on its way to drying. The smell and the thought of what her hands would look like when clean made her crinkle her nose. Her skin felt soggy.
Garret took the pot off the stove, tested it with a finger and put her hands in it to soften the drying salve. The warm water soothed her torn skin and his careful touches relaxed her. While he worked, he bent his head close to hers. He smelled like Garret but different. Like... sleepy Garret. Maybe this new miniscule change in his scent was only something he gave off near sleep, and she smiled at the observation. It was nice to see him as a mortal man and not some cold, unchangeable and untouchable being.
“There you go,” he said once her hands were clean.
To test how much they’d healed, she made them into fists. They certainly looked better, if one ignored the
“I’m off to bed, I think.” She smiled at him and walked down the hallway to her bedroom. She had changed into a nightdress and was taking the pins out of her hair, when someone knocked lightly. Her breath caught in her throat and she padded to the door, opened it just wide enough to peek out. Garret stood outside, leaning up against the doorframe, and looked every bit like he regretted knocking in the first place.
His gaze took in the sliver of her nightdress and the dark locks visible that tumbled over her shoulders. “I’m going to bed. Just wanted to tell you happy birthday. And good night,” he added.
“Good night, Garret.” She shut the door gently, and back pressed against it, waited for her breathing to steady. If she’d lost herself in his blue eyes any longer, she might have lost her wits.
She touched her lips and for the hundredth time, the tender kiss he’d given her on their wedding day came to her. She didn’t know how it was to be with a man, but sometimes caught herself thinking it wouldn’t be so bad if he were a man who looked and kissed like Garret Shaw.
Chapter 8
“Mornin’, Maggie,” Garret said from his seat at the kitchen table.
He had fried up some eggs and made her a plate. The stubble on his face was already starting to come in, though he’d shaved the day before. Sparse, but dark and made the angles of his face attractive. The first day after he shaved was when he was most beautiful. His blue eyes seemed even brighter when surrounded by all his dark, silky hair.
“Maggie?” Eyebrows raised, he looked at her as if she might have lost her mind.
Embarrassing heat touched her cheeks. Of course. “Good morning,” she said a little too cheerily in an attempt to break the awkward moment.
He shook his head and went back to pulling his boots on. Taking advantage of his distraction, she plopped down on a chair and started on her breakfast. Since coming to Rockdale, her appetite had increased. Probably due to the physical and emotional work life here seemed to entail.
“I’m going to be out with the cattle for the bulk of the day,” Garret said. “The rain’s let up and I need to get them fed properly and drive them closer to the smaller pond in the back. It should be nice and full now to keep ’em. The boys are still back in town so it’ll take me a while.” As he pulled on his jacket, he cast her a look that brooked no argument. “You saddle Buck and keep him that way. Tie him to the porch and stick close to Lenny today. If you see anyone coming, you head straight back to the pond and come get me, you hear?”
She nodded instead of answering lest a blob of eggs flop unbecomingly from her mouth. It wasn’t the impression she wanted him to leave with for the day.
He put his hat on and fastened a leather belt with pistols to his waist in a practiced movement. “Let me clean your hands before I go.”
He pulled up a pot and sloshed some water into it, set it on the stove and dragged a chair closer to her then unwrapped her hands. The salve was still damp but well on its way to drying. The smell and the thought of what her hands would look like when clean made her crinkle her nose. Her skin felt soggy.
Garret took the pot off the stove, tested it with a finger and put her hands in it to soften the drying salve. The warm water soothed her torn skin and his careful touches relaxed her. While he worked, he bent his head close to hers. He smelled like Garret but different. Like... sleepy Garret. Maybe this new miniscule change in his scent was only something he gave off near sleep, and she smiled at the observation. It was nice to see him as a mortal man and not some cold, unchangeable and untouchable being.
“There you go,” he said once her hands were clean.
To test how much they’d healed, she made them into fists. They certainly looked better, if one ignored the
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