him, doing his errands. Isn't it enough that you have to clean his house and cook for him? I don't like you working there." His voice was belligerent.
"Kyle, it's really not your concern where I choose to work. It's a good job, and the sheriff is easy to take care of." She tried to keep the anger from her voice, but her patience was wearing thin.
"You mean his house , don't you Becky? You take care of his house, you don't take care of the sheriff. When we're married, you won't have to do that anymore."
Becky thought about never being in the sheriff's house again and panic infiltrated her system. She loved his house. She loved working for him. It was the best part of her day. She couldn't imagine not getting to go there. "I can't marry you, Kyle."
It was as if she hadn't spoken. Kyle kept talking as if her acceptance was imminent. "You won't work there. In fact, you'll never have to work again. You'll have maids to do anything that needs to be done. All the cleaning and the cooking will be done for you, all you'll have to do is point to what needs doing."
Becky clenched her teeth. She had heard all this before. He constantly told her how easy her life would be. Sure it would . Especially the part where she had to crawl into his bed every night. She suppressed a shudder. Why was it like this? He was nice enough. In fact, if it weren't for his persistent pursuit of her hand, he was a true young gentleman. He was the most eligible bachelor in Waco, and all the girls were after him. Why couldn't she feel anything for him? Why couldn't she have womanly feelings for him? Feelings like---she ruthlessly suppressed the emotions that she always kept hidden. Very deep, where even she wasn't allowed to go.
Kyle continued at her silence. "Becky, are you listening to me?" His voice became soft and cajoling, his hands running up and down her arms. "I want you to marry me. You know that. I've asked you often enough. I know you're young and shy, but it will be okay, you'll see." His hands gripped her wrists while she held the white linen material like a shield in front of her. "You're the prettiest girl in Waco. Every man in town will be jealous of me. You'll make the perfect wife. I'll buy you whatever you want, and we’ll have the house decorated the way that will please you. I'll send back East for everything we can't find in Texas. Everything you might want. The best china. The highest quality silver. Linens, laces."
Becky thought of the huge brick house the Bolton's had been building on the river. It was beautiful, no doubt, but she prayed in her heart she would never live there. She didn't want to. It didn't seem like a home to her, it was a prison in her mind.
She jerked away from him and took a step back. "I have to go before it starts pouring. I'm sorry, I just can't marry you. You're a good friend, but--"
He cut her off with a snort. "I've got plenty of friends, Becky. Everyone in this damn town wants to be friends with me. Or with my parent's money. I want to marry you."
The emotion in his voice wrenched at her heart. He truly felt something for her, and she couldn't even summon up the first drop of romantic feelings in return. "I'm sorry, Kyle."
She rushed around him and hurried off to the sheriff's house.
****
Four hours later, Becky primed the pump and filled the pitcher of water to the top. She set it aside, and began to cut the brownies that were still cooling. She glanced under her lashes and grabbed a quick, secretive peak at the man who made her head buzz and her pulse quicken.
Sheriff Cooper sat at the table, plowing his way through her pot roast, silent, as he usually was. His hair was damp from the thunderstorm he got caught in, the dark strands spiky from where he had run his hands through it.
Although he mostly ignored her while he ate, Becky nonetheless had a strange sensation tickling her brain that it was a forced attitude for him, because she
"Kyle, it's really not your concern where I choose to work. It's a good job, and the sheriff is easy to take care of." She tried to keep the anger from her voice, but her patience was wearing thin.
"You mean his house , don't you Becky? You take care of his house, you don't take care of the sheriff. When we're married, you won't have to do that anymore."
Becky thought about never being in the sheriff's house again and panic infiltrated her system. She loved his house. She loved working for him. It was the best part of her day. She couldn't imagine not getting to go there. "I can't marry you, Kyle."
It was as if she hadn't spoken. Kyle kept talking as if her acceptance was imminent. "You won't work there. In fact, you'll never have to work again. You'll have maids to do anything that needs to be done. All the cleaning and the cooking will be done for you, all you'll have to do is point to what needs doing."
Becky clenched her teeth. She had heard all this before. He constantly told her how easy her life would be. Sure it would . Especially the part where she had to crawl into his bed every night. She suppressed a shudder. Why was it like this? He was nice enough. In fact, if it weren't for his persistent pursuit of her hand, he was a true young gentleman. He was the most eligible bachelor in Waco, and all the girls were after him. Why couldn't she feel anything for him? Why couldn't she have womanly feelings for him? Feelings like---she ruthlessly suppressed the emotions that she always kept hidden. Very deep, where even she wasn't allowed to go.
Kyle continued at her silence. "Becky, are you listening to me?" His voice became soft and cajoling, his hands running up and down her arms. "I want you to marry me. You know that. I've asked you often enough. I know you're young and shy, but it will be okay, you'll see." His hands gripped her wrists while she held the white linen material like a shield in front of her. "You're the prettiest girl in Waco. Every man in town will be jealous of me. You'll make the perfect wife. I'll buy you whatever you want, and we’ll have the house decorated the way that will please you. I'll send back East for everything we can't find in Texas. Everything you might want. The best china. The highest quality silver. Linens, laces."
Becky thought of the huge brick house the Bolton's had been building on the river. It was beautiful, no doubt, but she prayed in her heart she would never live there. She didn't want to. It didn't seem like a home to her, it was a prison in her mind.
She jerked away from him and took a step back. "I have to go before it starts pouring. I'm sorry, I just can't marry you. You're a good friend, but--"
He cut her off with a snort. "I've got plenty of friends, Becky. Everyone in this damn town wants to be friends with me. Or with my parent's money. I want to marry you."
The emotion in his voice wrenched at her heart. He truly felt something for her, and she couldn't even summon up the first drop of romantic feelings in return. "I'm sorry, Kyle."
She rushed around him and hurried off to the sheriff's house.
****
Four hours later, Becky primed the pump and filled the pitcher of water to the top. She set it aside, and began to cut the brownies that were still cooling. She glanced under her lashes and grabbed a quick, secretive peak at the man who made her head buzz and her pulse quicken.
Sheriff Cooper sat at the table, plowing his way through her pot roast, silent, as he usually was. His hair was damp from the thunderstorm he got caught in, the dark strands spiky from where he had run his hands through it.
Although he mostly ignored her while he ate, Becky nonetheless had a strange sensation tickling her brain that it was a forced attitude for him, because she
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