Page List


Font:  

“Waiting for you to sit.”

“Why?”

“Being a gentleman again.”

She waved him off. “Not necessary.”

“It is for me.”

His soft tone did something to her insides. “Just sit, McCray.”

“I will, after you do.”

Spring growled quietly.

“It’s a show of respect, Spring.”

She blew out a breath. “Christ and three fishes. Fine.” She sat.

He followed.

“Happy?” she asked.

He simply smiled.

“I drink whiskey, remember. I’m not a lady.”

“Doesn’t make you less deserving of my respect. You took me in, fed me, doctored me.”

Not comfortable with the conversation, she grumbled, “Eat before the food gets cold.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She hazarded a look his way to gauge whether he was toying with her, but the seriously set eyes holding her own touched her in a way that made her break the contact in favor of something less discomforting, like putting vegetables on her plate.

They ate in silence for a few moments. “My apologies if I made you uncomfortable,” he said. “It’s how I was raised.”

“My brother does that with Regan. He tries with me, but I just ignore him. I don’t need that kind of respect.”

“What kind do you need?”

She paused. He had a way of asking questions she had no ready answers for. “None really. Not being respected hasn’t made me lose sleep.”

“But respect is a way of acknowledging how valued you are, or how much you mean to a person.”

She shrugged. “I suppose, but I value myself.I don’t need it from anyone else just because it’s the gentlemanly thing to do.”

“But what if it’s genuine, and not because of what society dictates?”

Spring had spent the past fifteen years focused on what she didn’t need: a man, respect, to be coddled. She wasn’t sure how to respond to his attempts to make her consider what else she might need besides the support and friendship of Ed Prescott, Odell, her brother, and Regan. “How’s your steak?”

“Steak’s fine.”

That he didn’t push her to answer earned him a measure of her respect. “So do you stand at the table and wait until the woman who may or may not be your intended sits down?”

He glanced over. “I do.”

“Does she have a name?”


Tags: Beverly Jenkins Women Who Dare Historical