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When he was inside, she closed the door quietly behind him, then reached for the hat he'd automatically removed. She held out her hand for his coat. He shrugged out of it, then wondered if he should tell her he wasn't staying. Before he could decide, she led him toward the parlor.
The room was still full of too much furniture. Chairs and tables crowded together. On the settee closest to the fireplace, he saw Bonnie curled up asleep. A light blanket covered her to her shoulders. The kitten he'd brought Megan slept by the girl's feet. One of Bonnie's hands was tucked under her cheek, the other held her precious corn-husk doll. On the table in front of her, clothes had been stacked into neat piles.
"Isn't she sweet?" Megan asked quietly.
He glanced at the woman standing beside him. A fire flickered behind the grate, providing warmth and the only light in the room. Since his return, he'd only seen her with her hair pinned back in a respectably plain style. Tonight she wore her hair in a loose braid, with gold-blond strands drifting across her cheek. Her green dress brought out the matching color in her hazel eyes. Something was different. He frowned. Softer, maybe.
It might be the edge of lace at the collar of her dress, or the fact that she didn't seem to be wearing as many petticoats. She looked relaxed, even content. He envied her that.
"Justin?"
Her voice caught on his name. Instantly, his gaze locked on her mouth. Her full lower lip quivered slightly. He remembered how she'd tasted when he'd kissed her. Was it just two days ago? He felt as if he'd been back a lifetime. What was it about Megan Bartlett that made him forget? Why did she have to be the one who turned his head? She was determined to live a respectable life. To her, he would only ever be that bastard Justin Kincaid. They had nothing together.
"Let's let her sleep," he whispered, then headed for the hallway.
Megan followed him. "I tried to keep her awake, but she just nodded off," she said as they paused by the front door. "We've had a busy day."
"It looks like it."
She held her hands together in front of her waist. "I've roasted a chicken. Will you stay to supper?"
One persistent strand of hair brushed against her temple. She reached up and tucked it behind her ear. He reached toward her and fingered the loose hair on her shoulders.
"You aren't so tidy tonight."
"I know." She glanced down. He thought he saw a faint blush on her cheeks. The color made her skin glow. "We were playing with her doll and Bonnie asked if she could brush my hair. She said she used to brush her mother's. It seemed Like a small thing, really." Her gaze flickered over him. "She wanted to do my hair in a braid." She raised her hands to her braid and pulled it over her shoulder. After glancing at the uneven sections, she smiled. "I know I look a mess."
"No," he said, tucking another strand behind her ear. "Not at all. You look..." Perfect, he thought, but he couldn't tell her that. She stared at him so earnestly, as if his comment were the most important in the world. As if her life hung in the balance. As if she still cared. But she couldn't. He'd thought she had, once. He'd been wrong. "You look fine."
"Oh." Her head dipped toward her chest. "So you'll stay?"
He shouldn't. Eating with her would bring the ghosts to life. But he was too tired to resist her. He would be strong another time.
"Sure."
Her brilliant smile caught him like a sharp blow to the belly, but it didn't blind him to the truth. Megan was trouble for him. She always had been, she always would be.
She led the way into the kitchen. A large black stove dominated one wall. The smell of cooking chicken and potatoes made him swallow. He realized he hadn't stopped for dinner at noon. Breakfast had been biscuits and coffee while he'd watched Bonnie consume enough flapjacks to feed three farmhands.
"It'll just be a few minutes," she said, walking toward the counter. "I've already mixed up the biscuits. I just have to bake them." She picked up a thick towel and opened the oven door. After carefully pulling out a large baking dish filled with the chicken and potatoes, she set it to one side, then put the biscuits in their place.
She dropped the towel next to the dish and walked over to the kitchen table. Stacks of clothes covered the wooden surface. She scooped them up and dumped them on two chairs.
