AllFreeNovel
Share Us
What game was he up to now? His eyes were a mellow gray. His chest relaxed against hers. There was no sign this was a trick, but she knew it had to be. If Asa weren’t so much a man, she’d have started thinking he was one of those sissies in the dime novel she’d read once. She’d stopped believing that nonsense the day her father had caught her in the hayloft reading one. He’d spent the next month showing her the way of the real world. She’d come to understand quickly the only use a real man had for soft womanly emotions was to use them as a weapon against a woman. Like Brent had used them against her.
“Courting me isn’t necessary,” she told Asa. “You didn’t force me and it’s ludicrous to feel like you did.”
His head was shaking before she got to the last syllable. “It doesn’t set well with me. I don’t want to be telling my son that I all but raped his mother.”
“You didn’t rape me!” He wasn’t going to lay that guilt on her.
“I know you gave permission, but it still isn’t a night I’m building fond memories on.”
“I did my best. If you’d told me what you wanted…”
“I’m not placing blame.” He put his fingers over her lips, halting her instant retort. “You did what you had to do to save the ranch. I did what I had to do to keep the ranch. We did what was necessary to seal a business deal. But we didn’t begin a marriage.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes. You do.”
“Mr. MacIntyre…”
“Asa.”
She took a breath and counted to ten. She had to talk him out of this lunacy. “Mr. MacIntyre, I fail to see what’s wrong with what we have now. It’s a clear-cut business arrangement based on mutual understanding. You know where you stand and I know where I stand. That we enjoy each other occasionally is an unexpected plus.”
“There you go again, getting all formal on me. It was good between us in the barn. And I’m not talking about grooming Shameless, but the minute it was over, you started making me out to be a stranger.”
“I don’t think of you as a stranger.”
“I’m not going to argue with you. I’m ordering you to think on some courting rules. I want you to think on what you need to be comfortable, and then I want you to pass that on to me.”
“You want me to direct the course of our…courtship?” Why hadn’t any of the rumors that preceded the man indicated he was loonier than a bed bug?
“Yup.”
“What if you don’t like what I’ve decided?”
He flashed her a grin. “Then, like every young buck who’s ever come a courtin’, I’ll do my best to change your mind.”
“You’re serious.” My God, she couldn’t believe it!
“Yup.”
“Why?”
“We’re married. To me, that’s a once in a lifetime thing. I’ve seen other couples who’ve made a marriage work. Seems the one thing they have in common is they’re comfortable with each other. We got the cart before the horse here, but it’s fixable.”
“So your plan is to fix it by courting me?”
“Yup.”
“According to my rules?”
“You got a better plan?”
“No.” But she wasn’t sure she liked this one. There were too many risks. All on her side.
“Then I say we go with mine.”
“How much time do I have?”
“For what?”
“To come up with a plan.”
“Do you think you’ll be needing more than a day or two?”
There had to be a way his offer could work for her. If she thought on it hard enough, she’d come up with a plan of her own. “I think two days would be sufficient.”
“Good.” He took a step back. For the first time since he’d touched her, she felt like she could breathe. “I’m going to change clothes.”
“I’ll finish the biscuits,” she told him as he stretched. His shirt caved in over his stomach. She decided to make up another batch. The man was still awfully lean.
He brought his arms down. “After supper, I’d like to take a look at your records.”
“They’re in the study.” She watched as he strolled to the door. The depth of his tiredness showed in the set of his shoulders. “Would you like some salad greens with supper? I think there are still some in the garden.”
“That’d be fine.”
She watched as he left the room. A slight limp indicated his discomfort. Whether she’d really burned him or if it was the fact that the wet denim clung uncomfortably, she wasn’t sure. She felt guilty either way.
She turned her attention to supper. She had some buttermilk left from this morning. She’d make a special dressing for the salad. Buttermilk was supposed to be very nourishing.
Wiping her hands nervously on her apron, she went back to the biscuits, her mind in turmoil. She only had two days to figure out how to handle this. She couldn’t lose anymore ground. She couldn’t.
