Engaging the Competition (3 page)

Oh goodness.
If she'd already had trouble reining in her thoughts, being squished in here with him, what would her mind do with the fact that her lips had been but a breath away from his . . .

She closed her eyes tight and tried not to daydream. Even if Harrison suddenly decided to declare his love, he couldn't save her house. She couldn't lose the home her father built, where Momma had raised her girls and had loved Daddy so fiercely it seemed even death could not rip them apart. Though a year had passed since his heart had stopped, Momma still talked to him as she went about her daily routine.

If finances forced them to leave, Charlie feared her mother's grip on sanity would loosen. So to save her mother, she would do whatever it took to stay—within reason anyway. Marrying August was the most sensible thing she'd come up with . . . or at least it was practical.

“What are you eating?”

“Eating?” She looked at her hand, or the shadow of it, which she'd pulled away from her mouth to talk. “Nothing.” She'd never have nice nails unless she learned to relax. Hopefully that would happen after she went through with the wedding that guaranteed she'd not lose the house.

The rain grew persistent, or maybe more hail, but at least the door wasn't flopping about.

Please, Lord, let the house not be a pile of rubble when we crawl out of
here.

She hadn't heard anything to indicate it had been destroyed, but a twister flattening their home would likely hurt her mother even worse than losing it to Royal's shenanigans.

Something big crashed outside, and yet the wind didn't sound more malicious than any other storms she'd endured. Surely the wall cloud had passed and everything would be all right. In a minute or two, it'd be safe enough to take Harrison back to the barn.

For a bit longer, she'd endure being improperly close to a man she had fonder thoughts of than her intended. Even though Harrison had ignored her the last several years, she couldn't shake her one-sided attraction. But she'd have to figure out how to do so now. If Harrison hadn't tried to hold her hand once in twenty years, he definitely wouldn't be getting down on one knee in time to save her house—not that he could.

“I suppose I should apologize for coming out here.”

“No, don't.” She sighed and pressed farther away from him and the scent of his cologne mixed with horse and whatever else smelled good on him. At least now she knew he still cared a little bit about her.

Yet she couldn't let that knowledge turn into any more daydreams. Harrison couldn't fix any of her problems, while August could remedy them all.

The rain pattering grew faint, so Charlie inched out of the cramped hole where she'd been hip to hip with Harrison. “I'll go check if the storm's passed.”

Harrison's hand pulled her shoulder back. “Sit tight. This might just be a lull.”

She shrugged out of his grasp. “It's all right. I'll still check.”

“Then I'll do it.”

Did he growl?

She huffed, maybe even growled a little herself. “Why can't men let a lady do anything? You do realize you've no glasses?”

“Sorry, I forgot. It's pitch-black in here.”

“Right.” She crawled out only to hear the rain coming down in sheets again. The floor inside the doorway was nothing but mud. She sighed and turned back for the hole but stuck her feet in first so she wouldn't be as close to Harrison this time. Before the rain had lessened, she'd imagined how it'd feel to relax against him even after telling herself not to think about it.

“See. Just a calm in the storm.”

She couldn't see his face, but he certainly sounded smug. “Oh, like you knew that for certain.” He talked as if they were continuing some long-standing argument, but beyond exchanging pleasantries, they'd hardly conversed together for almost seven years.

“Well, no. I wasn't certain.”

“Then why'd you volunteer to check?” Her feet hit the back of the wall, so she bent her knees to get the rest of herself inside the hole. “Couldn't you simply appreciate that I'd do a better job than you and let me?”

Harrison was quiet, so she tried to focus on the beat of the rain instead of his breathing.

“I didn't actually think it through, Charlie. I was just raised not to let a woman risk her life for a man.”

He fidgeted and knocked the heel of his boot into her hip, and she winced.

“As a woman, wouldn't you want a man to be willing to die for you? Or would you rather he
appreciate
your skill at killing yourself and just let you?”

“Whatever made you hate me so much?”

He stilled. “I don't hate you. Why would you say such a thing?”

“Ever since I shot your rifle at that picnic, you only look at me out of the corner of your eye, as if sizing me up. You talk to me only when you have to. So if you want me to be like every other woman on the planet, maybe you should treat me like every other woman on the planet. At church, I've seen you shake hands with, smile at, and greet other women willingly. So why not me?”

“But that's not because I hate you,” he said slowly.

Sure it wasn't.

He rearranged himself again, bumping her feet. “Sorry.” He grabbed her ankles, and a jolt of awareness slithered up her skin.

She moved away and tucked her skirts around her legs so he'd not be able to touch them again.

One thing was certain—no matter how silly his grudge—she didn't hate him. Or even dislike him much. Or at all.

That's what a man's annoying good looks could do to a woman. If she wasn't careful, she'd drift back into her old daydreams about him. Wriggling away, she leaned against the wall. Even so, his foot still touched her hip.

Thunder boomed and bright lightning flashed through the door's cracks, illuminating them as they both jumped.

“Just so you know, I am appreciative.” Harrison's voice had lost its combativeness. “I mean, I admire your abilities so much that I . . . I mean, if a gang of thieves rolled into town and I had to pick a woman to be holed up with, I'd definitely want you over any other.”

Well, maybe getting stuck with him in the dark was worthwhile. Maybe he'd finally let loose of his grudge. “Shooting isn't the only thing I'm good for, you know.”

Silence.

The rain died off again, though water flooded the cellar now, seeping into her skirt near her backside. She grabbed a small box to sit on. Hopefully it wouldn't crumple beneath her. “I can do plenty of practical things—even if they aren't ‘womanly.' Sure, no man has to come shoot the coon in my coop for me, but knowing how to skin my own game and roast meat over a campfire means I can cook. Maybe not fancy crumbly cookies, but I've heard most men prefer meat and potatoes anyway. I don't need frilly things to make me happy, so there's less stuff to dust. And if I can round up wayward
calves, corral stupid
sheep, and keep a barnful of animals clean, fed, and healthy—then I'm sure I can handle a houseful of children. If a man is so threatened by my ability to do his ‘jobs,' then he's not man enough for me. So since you asked, that's why I'm marrying August. He's the only one not so intimidated by my skills that he can't see that my land's worthwhile.”

“You mean, he finds
you
worthwhile, right? Not just your land.”

She grimaced. She should've kept her mouth shut.

“He does find you worthwhile, right?”

Why did he care? She swallowed and looked away. “Guess we'll find out.”

She shoved herself out of the hole, so Harrison couldn't ask her any more questions. “Rain's stopped. I'm checking.”

After throwing open the door, she blinked against the gray light and stumbled up the stairs. Downed limbs full of green leaves were scattered all over her yard, torn shingles and buckets lay strewn about in fresh puddles, and the menacing gray cloud that had left her grass littered with hail crept farther east, leaving behind a clean-swept sky.

“You can come up now,” she hollered before fording the water-soaked lawn to drag her mother's rocking chair back onto the porch. At least the storm hadn't done any major damage. She hadn't the money to rebuild or replace much, so hopefully all she'd have to do was clean up, maybe reshingle a section or two of the roof.

“Charlie?” Harrison stood blinking at the top of the cellar stairs. “I've prepared myself to be highly appreciative of your visual prowess right about now.”

She rolled her eyes, but at least his teasing was better than him trying to find his way to the barn alone.

He held out his hand—not his arm.

Though she wanted to take his hand again, she'd have time to reflect on the feel of his fingers against hers this time, so she ignored it. With the sun out, he could surely follow if she walked slowly. “Come on.” She waved her hand until he started to trudge after her.

She skirted puddles, and he slogged right through them. At the barn, she reopened the door the wind had blown shut.

Her milk cow was muzzle deep in sweet feed.

“Bonnie! Get out of there!” She shooed the cow back into her stall and shut her in. Crossing over to Sun Dance, she patted her favorite horse, who nuzzled her back. “It got a little scary there, didn't it?”

She brushed her fingers through Sun Dance's mane and frowned over at Harrison. He stood leaning against his horse's stall. “You're not going to look for your glasses?”

He shrugged. “If I couldn't find them before, I'm not going to find them now—at least not without putting my nose close enough to the ground to inhale things I'm not sure I want to inhale. I figured I could patiently wait to appreciate your skill of maintaining good eyesight.” He pointed into the stall. “Though I did shove the straw against the walls to keep Dante from crushing them.”

She crossed over to stand next to him. He certainly had pushed a bunch of the straw off the floor and against the stall, but since his glasses were six inches farther back, it'd done no good. She let herself in and took Dante's halter.

“Careful, he might step on them.”

“Wouldn't matter.” Dante followed her out. Then Charlie went back in to retrieve Harrison's glasses. She cringed at the shattered lens and the twisted frame. “Here they are.”

His hand flailed near hers until he clasped his glasses. His expression immediately fell. “Great.”

“I suppose you need help home then?”

“Home? How am I supposed to teach tomorrow?” He frowned at the glasses in his hand.

“Can you get a pair before class starts?”

“I have to send away for these.”

She frowned at his pitiful expression. She'd have to do something. “Since you lost your glasses trying to save my livestock, I suppose I'll have to help you teach.” Because that's what she needed right now, more time with him. She sighed. She'd have to lasso in her imagination. Especially since without his glasses he was indeed as handsome as she'd suspected.

“You'd teach my classes?” His eyebrow raised in amusement.

“We both know book smarts will never be a skill of mine you'll have to appreciate.” She gave him a halfhearted smile. “But I can surely help you pass out papers, rein in any ornery critters peeking at someone else's test, or whatever else you might need help with.”

“I don't know if that's a good idea.”

It most certainly wasn't, but if he'd risk his life to check if the tornado had passed without his glasses for her, she could certainly step back inside a schoolroom for him.

Stuffing his worthless spectacles into his vest pocket, Harrison cursed his dependency on them as Charlie's vague form worked at hitching her horse to a wagon.

He rubbed Dante's neck. Horses might wander home on their own, but if he got in the saddle, would Dante go directly home with nothing more than a few general cues?

There shouldn't be much traffic on a Sunday, and surely roads were wide enough for him to see, if he squinted. He could avoid the main thoroughfares, and the clatter of wheels over brick should signal an approaching vehicle. Dante wouldn't be stupid enough to step into traffic. Surely they could get home together—slowly.

He took his hand off the stall gate and forged into the open area of the barn, scanning the ground, hoping to see obstacles before he ran into them. Once his hand touched the opposite wall, he trailed his fingers along its surface and cautiously made his way to Charlie. “I shouldn't need to inconvenience you with a drive into town. I think Dante and I can get home all right.”

“But you can't see.”

“I can see fuzzy shapes and colors and light. And I'm sure I can remember the turns to get home.”

“But what if you take a wrong turn?”

He stared at Dante's dark shape across the barn, noisily munching on the oats Charlie had given him. “I don't think we'll be as bad off as that.”

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

He frowned at Charlie. Her face was so much a blur, all he could see was a vague bit of red for her mouth and two dark spots for her eyes. He couldn't even tell where her hands were. “I can't even guess.”

“Then I'm driving you home.”

“Maybe you could just ride to the edge of town with me. Don't trouble yourself with the wagon.” He could still sit a horse confidently—able to see or not. He didn't need to be babied.

“What're you trying to prove, Gray?”

He lifted his eyebrows at the use of his surname. Only other men called him that.

What was
he
trying to prove? More like what was she trying to prove. “I'm trying to save you the inconvenience.”

“Nonsense. This will be nothing compared to having to lose a few days of work to help you teach.”

“That's just it.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I don't think you can help me for—”

“Are you saying I'm not smart enough? I know I wasn't good in school like you were, but surely I can—”

“No, I know you're smart enough to help. It's just that my glasses aren't the kind to be sitting on a shelf somewhere. They actually have to make them. I doubt they'll be here within a week.” Of course, he could buy glasses from one of the stores in Teaville, but spectacles sold from boxes had long ago become inadequate. Why waste the money if she could help?

She straightened from whatever she'd been doing. “How long?”

“I don't know. I'm guessing at least two weeks.” He squinted, trying to get a hint of her expression as she stood silently in front of him. He wished he didn't need her that long, but how could he teach without help? He could let the grading pile up until his glasses arrived, but then he'd get too far behind. He could lecture and make the students read aloud, but there'd be no way to hide that he had to get two inches away from anything to see it. He could pat down the length of the chalkboard to find his chalk, but could he write legibly if he couldn't see more than a word or two at a time? None of his students were troublemakers as far as he knew, but if someone wanted to get away with sleeping or cheating, they'd have an easy time of it.

“When will you know for certain?”

“I'll post a telegram tomorrow. Hopefully they'll reply with
an expected arrival date within a day.” And he'd buy two pairs. He'd not get himself into this mess again.

“So be it.” She went back to harnessing her horse.

He gritted his teeth to keep from objecting to her helping him home again. She'd been right earlier. He hadn't appreciated her abilities as a kid, but he'd thought he'd left his jealousy behind.