Rocky Mountain Wife Read Free Page A

mind.
She rubbed her hands over her face. Hadn’t she been in knots worrying no one would pay her a fair price for the animals? And now that someone had, she felt, well, all tangled up. Mr. Reed had a strange effect on her, and she couldn’t say why, but she didn’t like him. Not at all.
    A knock banged on the front door, breaking into her thoughts. That was probably him now with the horses tied to his wagon and ready to go. She rushed to the door and flung it open.
    “Howdy there, Claire.” A lanky, graying man stood in the shelter of the porch, clothed in freshly ironed trousers and a sweat-stained gray shirt. Tobacco juice stained the edges of his gray mustache and beard. He held out a handful of wildflowers. “Hear you’re in tough straights. That you’re gonna be tossed out in two weeks.”
    “That isn’t a secret, Mr. Sanders.” She squared her shoulders, fighting the sting behind her eyes. “What can I do for you?”
    “Thought I could sweeten you up with some flowers, and you’d let me take a look around? A
good
look.” He worked a wad of tobacco around in his mouth. His eyes gleamed darkly. “I’d sure like to get my hands on this place. I heard it from the bank president himself that he’d like to turn this piece of land around real fast. You wouldn’t mind letting me in, you pretty thing?”
    Cold lust gleamed in his gaze, and her stomach turned. Just what did he want to get into—the house, or her? Her chin shot up. “I mind very much. This is still my place, Mr. Sanders.”
    “Not for long, so what’s the use in being difficult?” He spit a stream of tobacco juice over her porch rail into the prized rose bushes her mother had given her. “It’s no secret how much you need cash. Why, you’ve got that little one to provide for. You don’t want her sleepin’ in a ditch at night, do you?”
    When she saw the greenbacks he pulled out of his shirt pocket, she couldn’t have been angrier. Rage roared through her like a twister. “I don’t know what you’re offering, but be smart and get the hell off my porch.”
    “Now, don’t get all worked up, little Claire.” Oliver Sanders narrowed his gaze, fastening on her breasts. “You shouldn’t be advertising what you don’t want men to look at. Now, if I apologize, will you still take the twenty and let me get a look at your bedroom? If you want to earn twenty more, I can think of a way. A widow like you has needs, ain’t that right?”
    “No.” She reached to pull the screen door closed, glaring at him through the mesh. “Go away, Mr. Sanders.”
    She slammed the door, pleased with herself for showing restraint. She hadn’t hit him with her porch broom, for instance. Men! She stormed into the parlor and caught her reflection in the beveled mirror on the opposite wall.
    Oh my!
She gaped at her un-corseted figure. Her dress clung to every curve intimately.
Why, she might as well be standing here naked.
The wet fabric outlined her breasts and nipples, the flat of her waist and the flare of her hips.
    Because of the extreme heat earlier in the day, she’d worn only a pair of drawers beneath her dress and even the faint outline of the hair at the apex of her thighs was visible beneath the pretty blue calico. Mortification blazed through her. Goodness, no wonder Mr. Sanders thought she might be offering him something. And as for Mr. Reed—
    Oh, Mr. Reed.
He’d been such a perfect gentleman, and she’d been standing in front of him like this. He’d never even so much as blinked. She gasped in embarrassment. What must he think of her? She felt horrible. A thin, shaky feeling gripped her stomach. How was she ever going to look him in the eye again?
    And what was that sound? She cocked her head, listening to the faint, rhythmic hammering that echoed through the house. What was Ivy up to now? She charged through the parlor and into the kitchen, following the noise. Rain smeared the kitchen windows as she lifted her shawl from the peg by