Page 29 of Unwilling Wolf

“I was…I was just surprised because you changed out most of the other furniture here. We used to sit on that as children while your mother read us books.”

He just stared, and for the life of her, she couldn’t tell if she was making him angry with these memories, or not. So she repeated, “I made you another helping of food.”

He looked at the chair, and then to Eliza, and back to the chair. “Sit by the fire.” The demand in his voice made her bristle.

“But I’m comfortable he—”

“Sit!” He jammed a finger at the chair.

“Do you intend to boss me around our whole lives?”

“I saw you, Eliza!”

“Saw what?”

“I saw you shivering! I do not get cold. You are…”

“I’m what?”

“You’re…”

“Human?” she guessed.

He gritted his teeth so hard, his jaw muscles twitched. “Fine. Catch your death. What do I care?”

He strode for the kitchen and busied himself with refilling his plate with warm food. With an annoyed sigh, she padded to his worn leather chair, dragging her sewing with her, and plopped down. “Better?”

Garret just grunted and sat at the table with his back to her. Lovely.

They sat there in silence—him eating, and her sewing. After he’d washed his empty dishes and the dishes she’d cooked in, he strode to the bookshelf near the hearth, chose a book, and sat down on the couch across the den from her.

Every couple of minutes, he glanced at her. She did her best to ignore him, but she couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t turn a single page of his book. Anytime she engaged him, he disappointed her or hurt her feelings, and she had met what she could handle for the day. At the moment, silence was more valuable than freshly-panned gold.

She had just curled her feet comfortably up under herself when he cleared his throat.

“What are you doing to that poor dress?” he growled out.

Concentrating deeply, she muttered, “If you must know, I’m taking it in. The waist is too big.”

Amusement danced in the clear-water color of his eyes and the quirk of his lips. “I think they’re supposed to fit that way.”

With a loud sigh, she set the needlework in her lap. “It’s much too big in the waist and too small in the chest.” His gaze dropped to said assets, then he looked up, eyes burning with intensity.

Heat flaring in her cheeks, she told him, “It’s my dress, so what does it matter if I fix it for myself? I conceded to buying less-fashionable dresses to fit in around here, but I will have them fit me. I refuse to allow you to change me, Garret. You might as well accept me.”

With a snort and a shake of his head, he put the book up in front of his face again. “No man ever had a snowball’s chance in hell of changing you, Miss Flemm.”

“Mrs. Shaw,” she said in a sing-song voice. “Oh. Speaking of dresses, I didn’t know they would be so inexpensive here.” Dropping her sewing on the seat of the chair, she padded over to the small coin purse she’d left in the kitchen and pulled out all the money she had to her name. Convinced he wouldn’t accept it, she set it on the table. “For the ranch,” she declared.

“I can’t take your money.” He stood and stalked toward her, scooped the money off the table.

“See, that is where you are wrong. It’s not my money anymore. It is ours, husband. I am aware you have a lot of history here, but I love this place too. I’ll help out in any way I can. I’m sorry I cannot do more.”

He took her wrist and tried to uncurl her fingers from the fist she’d made. “You don’t have to do this, Eliza.”

She clenched her fist tighter. “Do what?”

“Pretend this is real.”

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