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Now she wasn't so sure. She looked at the man lying next to her, at the slow rise and fall of his chest and the lean length of his body. She thought about his gentle smiles and the way he took care of Bonnie. She thought about the way he ignored the conventions of the day and did what he thought was best.
Falling in love with Justin all those years ago had been the most wonderfully terrifying experience of her life. Seven years later, she was grown up enough to admit that if she had it to do over again, she would go with him this time. But the Justin who had loved her enough to want to marry her no longer existed. The man who had taken his place might have feelings for her, but he would never forgive her the betrayal and pain she'd inflicted on him. He would never trust her enough to fall in love with her again, no matter how much she might want him to.
Chapter Nine
J ustin braced the railing between his knees and pounded in the nails. The sound echoed in the crisp spring morning. After a few seconds, the front door of the house opened and Mrs. Dobson stepped out onto the porch. She clutched a shawl around her ample chest. The knitted wool was a pale shade of pink.
"What's that racket? Justin Kincaid, are you the one making all that noise? Do you know what time it is? How do you expect a body to sleep with you pounding away like the devil himself?''
"Morning, ma'am," Justin said, and grinned. He bent over and picked up the top railing. After balancing it in his arms, he heaved it up high and dropped it into place.
"You didn't answer my questions."
"I'm fixing your fence. A while back, you said it had fallen down in the winter."
She walked to the odgc of the porch. "Why are you doing that?"
"Just being neighborly."
"I might be old, but I'm not foolish. You're the sheriff. You don't have time to be mending fences. Why aren't you off making our town safe for decent citizens?"
He wiped his hand across his forehead. "Landing seems plenty safe for decent citizens, ma'am. It's everyone else who has to worry."
"You're talking about that dance-hall girl, aren't you?" The older woman sighed. "It's a shame about her. But you still haven't told me why you're bothering with my fence."
He adjusted his hat, then picked up the next railing. "It needed doing. Besides, if it wasn't for you, Bonnie would have been turned away last Sunday. I'm grateful for what you did."
She tisked, but he could have sworn he saw a faint blush on her cheeks. "Just doing what I think's right. You eat yet?"
"No, ma'am."
"When you get done with that racket, you come inside here. I'll make some breakfast." She walked across the porch and opened the door, then turned back to him. "But don't you go around mentioning this to anyone. I've got a reputation to uphold. I don't want people gossiping that I'm entertaining a young man in my house."
He grinned. "I won't say a word."
It took him about a half hour to finish mending Mrs. Dobson's fence. He washed up at the pump in her yard, then straightened his shirt and climbed the stairs to her front door. After a quick knock, he stepped inside. The house was small, but surprisingly bright. Lace curtains hung at the windows. Little china figurines and picture frames sat on small tables. He edged around them, trying not to bump anything, and made his way to the kitchen.
The smell of bacon, ham and baking bread greeted him. There were two place settings on the small table, and a hot cup of coffee.
"That's yours," she said, motioning to the mug. "Drink it while it's still steaming. I'm glad you washed outside. I don't want some man's dirt in the same sink as my dishes."
He took a seat and eyed the widow. Something was different about her. Something that— He grinned. "Why, Mrs. Dobson, I admire your shawl. It's a pretty shade of pink," he said meaningfully.
The woman spun toward him. Her bright green eyes widened. She glanced from the offending shawl to him and back. Then she smiled. "It's been more than ten years since Mr. Dobson went to his reward. I thought it was time for a little color."
"I would say so."
"Some folks would be surprised if they knew I was thinking of ending my mourning."
He nodded slowly. "Not as surprised as they would be if they knew how you'd helped my mother.'*
