Page 500 of Conveniently Wed
As she exited the room, he couldn’t help noticing the sway of her slim hips as she walked away carrying a vulnerability that beckoned his protective nature.
Once again, Franklin arose long before dawn. Not because he had plans that necessitated the early morning, but because he was tired of losing the fight with his covers while tossing and turning most of the night. He went out to the stable and started mucking out the stalls. Anything to keep himself busy.
He wanted to help Mrs. Sullivan, and something about her tugged at his heart. But he didn’t dare let her inside his wall of defense. He’d loved one woman and that didn’t end well.
Miriam had professed her love for him right up until the day, two weeks before their wedding, when she ran off with his best friend Marvin Pratt. The three of them had grown up on ranches here in Summit County. Marvin was the son of Franklin’s father’s foreman. The three of them had been together for years before Franklin asked Miriam to be his wife.
He thought Marvin was happy for them. He laughed and agreed when asked to be the best man.
Miriam wanted a big wedding, so she and her mother sent away for special materials and other doodads while he waited anxiously to make her his wife. He’d shared his heart’s deepest dreams with Marvin, and they’d had interesting conversations about them. Up until that cataclysmic day.
Marvin was the one who told him what was happening. How he’d always been jealous of all the things Franklin had. How he wanted them, too. How he’d wooed Franklin’s bride right out from under his nose. Then they climbed into a new carriage and rode away, trampling Franklin’s heart beneath the horse’s hooves as he watched them stop to kiss passionately right before they were out of sight.
I’ll never, ever trust a woman or have a man for a best friend again.Those words spoken aloud that day had become his litany, even after his parents were killed in the wreck of a runaway wagon, and he became sole owner of the ranch.
Rand Morgan was the closest friend he had now, but he’d never let Rand invade his heart as Marvin had. They helped each other and watched each other’s backs, but didn’t share the deep secrets of their hearts.
Remaining aloof from all the women who let him know they were interested in him was easy...until now. That’s why he had to come up with a way to help Mrs. Sullivan find a new home that would be good for her and her child. It would be too easy for him to fall for a woman like her, despite his decision not to.
When he leaned the pitchfork against the wall and started pushing the last wheelbarrow full of the soiled hay toward the doorway, his stomach growled. He suddenly realized the cold was seeping inside his heavy coat and gloves. After dumping this load, he’d head to the house. Mrs. Oleson probably had breakfast ready by now. At least, she’d have hot coffee for him.
He ran his soles across the wrought iron boot scraper beside the back door before entering the mud room. When he hung up his coat and pulled off his gloves, he blew his warm breath on his fingers, then stepped into the toasty kitchen.
“I wondered where you were.” Mrs. Oleson leaned over to remove cinnamon rolls from the oven.
The sweet, spicy smell made his stomach rumble even more. “You made my favorite.”
“I thought you could use some encouragement.” She set the hot pie tin on a trivet. “I heard you moving around a lot last night. Did you sleep at all?”
“Not much.” He knew her room was right above his. Maybe that hadn’t been such a good idea, but she’d been in that room when his parents were alive, and he didn’t want to make her move.
“Worrying about our guest?”
His housekeeper was much too astute.
“Maybe.”
She lifted the speckled, graniteware coffeepot from the stove using a folded kitchen towel. “Have you found a solution to the situation?”
He sat down at the table while she poured the dark, steaming brew into a large mug. “Not yet.”
Franklin really wished he would soon. He hated all the uncomfortable memories that had bombarded his mind.
She returned the pot to its warm perch, then brought a plate filled with crisp bacon strips to the table. “I have an idea that might work.”
He helped himself to several pieces. “What idea?”
“Lorinda needs something to keep her busy. It’ll make it easier for her to come to grips with all her troubles. She needs to feel useful.” After pouring herself a cup of coffee, Mrs. Oleson joined him at the table.
He took a large bite from the last strip of bacon he’d put on his plate. Chewing it gave him time to mull over what she said. He couldn’t think of anything Mrs. Sullivan could do tofeel useful.
When he hadn’t made any comment, his housekeeper leaned her arms on the table and curled her fingers around the warm cup. “You are always wanting to hire someone to help me.”
“And you keep being insulted by my suggestions.” He laughed.
“It’s not that I can’t do the work anymore, but you could offer her a smaller salary and room and board to go with it. Then she wouldn’t feel as though she’s a charity case.”
The words touched a chord in his spirit. Not many people around these parts wanted charity, but when they helped each other, everything was all right. “She’s not physically able to do much. I was really surprised by how thin the woman has become. I don’t think she ate as much as she should have during the winter.”
