Page 7 of A Convenient Heart
The platform was filled with travelers, some pushing through the crowd to rush onto the train. Brakes hissed as they released.
Someone passed behind the schoolteacher, bumping into her in the same moment that the train whistle blasted.
Off-kilter, she started to stumble and extended one hand—at the same moment that Jack reached out to steady her.
She was wearing gloves, while he was bare-handed.
And yet he still felt a beat of shock at the moment their hands connected and clasped—like the roar of dynamite biting into the mountain near those mines in Colorado.
Her eyes searched his face, as if she’d felt it too.
He dropped her hand and the moment ended. He flexed his hand and felt a phantom echo of that hand clasp.
A gust of wind blustered through and pushed her skirts against her legs. She touched the back of her hair as if making sure her pins were still in place.
It was cold out here.
And high time he went about making his escape. He glanced back toward the train as it chugged once and then twice more.
“You must be hungry after such a long journey. I’ve reserved a table for us at the hotel dining room.”
It wasn’t a question.
“And Mrs. Stoll has your room ready at the boardinghouse. I checked with her this morning.”
She glanced around him, her brow furrowing suddenly. “Where’s…do you have a trunk?”
The missing groom probably did, but all Jack carried was his satchel. He patted it now. “I’ve got all I need right here.”
A shadow passed through her eyes, followed by the tiniest squint.
“Hey, you!”
A shout from the train turned Jack’s head, though he tried to be discreet.
Morris was there, standing in the open doorway of the train, which was pulling out of the station.
He wasn’t looking Jack’s way, though. His glare was aimed at someone talking to one of the porters, across the platform.
But then he turned his scowl in Jack’s direction.
“John. John?”
As Jack turned back to the woman before him, heart thrumming in his ears, he realized she’d said his name—or what she thought was his name. John was the groom?
He needed to get off the platform before Morris caught sight of him and jumped off the slow-moving train.
He slipped his hand beneath the teacher’s elbow and nudged her toward the stairs he could see not far away, effectively turning both their backs to Morris.
“Jack.” He corrected her before he’d thought better of it. “Call me Jack.”
Her eyes searched his face. There was a tiny pinch at the top of her nose between her brows, and for one wild moment, he imagined pressing a kiss there.
What had come over him?
Two minutes of pretending to be some lovesick groom and he was imagining a closeness with this woman—this stranger—that didn’t exist.
Maybe he’d fallen asleep on the train and this was simply a strange dream.
