To Win Her Heart Read Free

female, but Calvin Spencer obviously did, and Levi had no intention of alienating the man’s representative, no matter her gender.
    “Miss Spencer runs the library down the street,” Cranford explained to Levi as the lady removed her shawl and bonnet, draping them across the arm of her chair. “And since Mr. Spencer resides in Austin, she also serves as her father’s representative on town matters.”
    Draper heaved an audible sigh. “Let’s forgo the explanations, shall we? All Mr. Grant needs to know is that Calvin Spencer owns the blacksmith shop he wishes to lease, and that, for some unfathomable reason, our founding father wishes his daughter to give her approval before the papers are signed.”
    The banker dipped his chin toward the young woman, his voice brittle. “If you’d be so kind as to get this interview underway, Miss Spencer? Some of us have places to be.”
    Levi dug his fingers into his knees, disgusted by the man’s attitude. He wanted to glare him into repentance, but instead, he turned toward Miss Spencer and tried to apologize with his eyes. “I’d be glad to”— Answer your questions? —“tell you whatever you need to know, ma’am.”
    “Thank you, Mr. Grant.” She offered him a small smile, and he returned the gesture, relief uncoiling the knots in his belly. “And please, call me Miss Spencer. Ma’am makes me feel decrepit.”
    Her smile widened, and Levi tried to match it while the knots reasserted themselves in his stomach and climbed into his throat.
    “You’re far from decrepit,” he assured her.
    Her eyelashes fluttered as her gaze dipped to her lap, and Levi exhaled, grateful to have extricated himself for the time being, even though he knew he was doomed to offend her in the future. Her name had so many S’s in it, he’d hiss worse than a steaming kettle if he attempted to pronounce it. And if ma’am got her dander up, too? Well, he was sunk.
    “So tell me about your work experience, Mr. Grant.” Miss Spencer’s lashes lifted, and her eyes glowed with purpose. “I’m sure Mr. Cranford has expressed our town’s need for a blacksmith, but let me assure you that I’d rather prolong our search than employ a smith who offers shoddy craftsmanship.”
    Regardless of the opinions of the men in the room, the lady took her responsibilities seriously. Levi checked his posture, rolling his shoulders back slightly to make sure he was straight, then met her gaze head on. Time to get down to business.
    Deliberating over each phrase, he pieced together a halting answer. “My father . . . taught my brother and me the trade. I’ve manned a forge . . . from the time . . . well, from the time I could hold a hammer.”
    “And where are you from?”
    He couldn’t say Huntsville. One, because he really couldn’t say it. And two, because everyone knew of the state prison there. Such a response would provoke too many questions. However, he’d not dishonor his new commitment to Christ by lying, either.
    “I . . . grew up in Caldwell.”
    “That’s south of here, isn’t it?”
    Levi nodded. “Yep. Near Hearne.” He turned away from her for a moment, hoping to cut off the line of questioning that was growing increasingly uncomfortable. The unspoken code of the West was to let a man’s past alone. He didn’t know if that held true in employment interviews, but he’d do his dead-level best to invoke it if possible.
    Miss Spencer shifted in her chair, as if sensing his unease, but instead of pressing the issue as he would expect from a woman determined to prove her mettle, she hesitated. For a time-stretching moment, she peered into his face as if searching for proof of his character, then blinked and steered the conversation in a different direction.
    “You mentioned working with your father. Have you ever operated your own shop?”
    “No, ma’am.” As soon as the ma’am left his tongue, Levi slammed his lips closed, but it was too late. Miss Spencer’s