“Yes. Emily. Emily Stanton.”
“Not known to frequent saloons?”
“No.”
“Does she mind all your questions?”
“No, just that I prefer carpentry to law. My father isn’t happy about it, either.”
“Then why are you entertaining the idea of maybe marrying her?”
“My father and hers are convinced we’d be a good match.”
“What do you think?”
“She and I are certain they’re wrong.”
“Problem solved, then.”
“If only our parents would agree.”
Spring was confused. If he and this Emily were of like minds, why was a match still being discussed? It sounded fairly simple to her. She reminded herself that the answer didn’t matter because he’d be returning home eventually and the outcome wouldn’t affect her life one way or the other, but she was admittedly curious.
“Emily is a crusader. She doesn’t believe marriage holds much benefit for women,” he explained.
Spring raised her cup in silent tribute.
He smiled. “I sensed you’d agree with her.”
“So you don’t want to marry her because she doesn’t want to marry you?”
“In part, but the other part is if I do marry, I want it to be to someone who fills my heart the way my mother fills my father’s heart. He adores her.”
Something rippled through her that was both faint yet powerful. For a moment she felt entranced, unable to do anything but look into his eyes and let him do the same to her. She broke the invisible thread and concentrated on cutting her steak. Realizing her hand was shaking, she cursed inwardly and drew in a breath to calmherself. “So you believe in love.” It was more statement than question.
“I don’t know if that’s what it’s called, but for the sake of conversation, yes. My mother is the light of my father’s world. You see it in his face whenever she walks into a room. I’d like to feel that way about the person I pledge my life to.”
“And it doesn’t happen with Emily,” she stated quietly.
He shook his head. “But she’s incredibly smart, funny, and a good friend.”
Spring thought him way more complicated than she’d initially assumed. His description of his father and mother fit how Colt and Regan felt about each other.
He added, “Of course, I may never find that person, but I’d like to hold out and see.”
Once again she was caught by the spell in his gaze. Tearing herself away, she said, “Good luck.” What she didn’t say aloud was:What in the hell is wrong with me?
“Thanks.” He offered up a toast. “Have you ever been in love?”
She glared.
“My apologies. Even I know that was too nosy to ask.”
“Just eat.”
After the meal, they did the dishes. This timehe washed, and she dried. They worked silently, which suited her just fine. Because of her mood, she wanted to ignore him but found that difficult. Like before, there were inadvertent touches, and though she tried not to, she found herself studying his strong hands, along with the cut of his jaw and the slope of his shoulders in the blue shirt he wore. That her eyes kept straying to his was frustrating. She uncharacteristically wondered if her glare had hurt his feelings, but there was nothing in his face or manner that said she had. Oddly enough, when their eyes brushed, he seemed quietly amused, as if he held the answer to a private riddle. She wanted to ask what it meant because it further fed her inner grumbling. Instead, she took the wet dishes he handed her, dried them, and put them away.
When they finished the task, he asked, “Is there anything else I can help you with? You’ve taken me in and fed me. I’d like to feel as if I’m at least earning my keep.”