Kissing in the Dark Read Free

of her trust.
    “Adam meant for the brush to be a gift,” he said. “Why not let him work off his debt in the store? I’m sure Mrs. Brown will welcome his help, and that way Adam can give you the gift with a clear conscience.”
    “I’ll do it.” Adam lifted his skinny chest like a soldier bravely facing battle. “I’ll apologize to Mrs. Brown and work extra hard to make up for stealing from her.”
    “Mrs. Brown isn’t likely to allow you in her store, Adam.” Faith shook her head. “You can make your apology when you take this money to her.”
    Duke suspected those were her last coins, and he couldn’t let her use them for Adam’s mistake. “This is Adam’s debt. Let him pay it,” he insisted. The boy wanted and needed to make restitution.
    Before Faith could answer, a small brown-haired girl whooped and darted between them. She threw her arms around Faith’s skirt and hugged her legs.
    “Mama, Aunt Iris said she’s gonna plant me with the onions if I pester her any more!”
    Duke’s heartbeat faltered. During his covert admiration of the woman, he hadn’t considered Faith’s personal life, that she might have a child, that she might be married, that his own growing anticipation of making a personal call on her was out of line.
    “This is my daughter, Cora,” she said, brushing the girl’s curls out of her lively green eyes.
    Cora pointed to the badge on his chest. “What’s that?” Before he could answer, she gawked at his revolver. “Is that a gun? Do you shoot people?” She was a slip of a girl with skinny arms and legs, and a cute little mouth that spewed questions faster than Duke could answer them. Her curiosity made her bold, and she tried to touch the gleaming metal cuffs hanging from Duke’s gun belt.
    He stepped back, removing the gun from her reach. “Careful, missy,” he said. “Guns are dangerous. Never touch one. Not for any reason. Not ever.”
    “Cora Rose, mind your manners,” Faith said, laying her hand on Cora’s head and gently chastising the girl.
    “What are those?” she asked, undaunted.
    “Handcuffs.”
    “What are they for?”
    Duke glanced at Faith, who gave him an apologetic look. “She’s four,” she said, as if that would explain Cora’s curiosity. For Duke, who had six nephews and two nieces, it explained everything. A four-year-old’s questions could wear a person down faster than an interrogation by the United States military.
    He reached to unhook the cuffs, but the move shot a fierce spike of pain into his shoulder socket. He bit his lip to stop an agonized curse from slipping out, then forced himself to pull the cuffs from the clasp on his leather belt. His shoulder throbbed as he squatted and showed her how to work the cuffs. “If you go quietly, you might be able to cuff your Aunt Iris to a fat plant,” he suggested, hoping the child would scamper out of earshot. He didn’t want her to hear his conversation with Faith and Adam.
    Cora giggled and charged toward the back of the greenhouse.
    “Consider your handcuffs lost,” Faith said. “She’ll bury them someplace, and we’ll never find them again.”
    As he stood, he eased out a breath, letting the pain ebb from his shoulder and the hope of courting Faith ebb from his mind. Faith was married. Nothing to do but accept it, take care of the business with Adam, then leave. Adam seemed to be a considerate boy, but he needed a man’s guiding hand. Much as Duke didn’t want to meet Faith’s husband, he felt it his duty to inform him of Adam’s mistake and hope the man could provide the guidance and influence the boy needed.
    But he stole one final moment to admire Faith’s slender body and kissable lips—lips he wanted to know intimately.
    With a resigned sigh, he nodded toward the open door of the greenhouse. “Is your husband at home today?”
    Her lashes lowered. “I’m a widow, Sheriff Grayson.”
    Surprise, relief, and a deep sympathy rushed through him. She couldn’t be more