Excerpt
A throat-clearing sound
brought Jessalyn’s attention back to the man who was looking at her with an
expectant eyebrow raised. She’d been quiet for too long. “Right,” she said.
“Please come in.”
Samuel Brooks dipped
his head like a gentleman and crossed the threshold into her home. He removed
his hat and ran a hand through his slightly wavy light brown hair. Something
about the way he moved bothered Jessalyn. He stepped smoothly, effortlessly,
without any of the hesitation one would expect to read in a stranger entering
uncharted territory. Yet he was already looking past her, at the space he had
been assigned to live in, and he seemed comfortable. He filled it up, like
water pouring from pitcher to glass, easily taking shape as if he was always
meant to be there. Jessalyn felt her lips tighten. She straightened her spine,
the way she commanded her students’ attention. He still had about two inches on
her. Damn. Opportunities, Jessa. Opportunities.
"This is the
house," she said, gesturing to their surroundings. "You'll take the
spare room, just over here, beneath the stairs. You're welcome to use any of
the common spaces. You are responsible for your own meals and washing."
While she spoke, Samuel Brooks followed along, but was mostly looking at her.
She fought back an urge to roll her shoulders again. "Rent will be due on
the first of the month. If you have any questions about the town, I will do my
best to answer them. Regarding work, there are many ranches that are always
looking for extra hands. I'd be happy to put in a word for you, if you
like." Jessalyn reached the end of the speech she had prepared for this morning.
Samuel Brooks took a
moment, then said, "I'm sorry, this is overwhelming. I feel like this
entire town is bending over backward to curry favor with a man they just
met."
From his demeanor of
comfort, Jessalyn hadn't expected this sort of a reaction at all. "We like
to be hospitable here in Three Willows. Anyone who comes here ought to feel
welcome. We're glad to have you," she said, echoing Ebenezer's token
greeting.
Samuel's mouth turned
up in a crooked grin. "You know, it's gotta be the third or fourth time
someone has said that to me. But coming from you, it doesn't seem like there's
an ounce of truth in it."
Jessalyn stiffened. She
did not appreciate being analyzed. "Did you need my help at all with your
bags, or...?" If Samuel Brooks was the sort of man who needed a clear
boundary set, she was more than happy to do that.
Yet still, he grinned.
"No, I'm all right. Again, thank you, uh... Jessalyn, was it?"
"Ah-"
"Do you prefer
'Lyn?'"
"No, I
think-"
"Or just
'Jessa?'"
Jessalyn flinched. No
one had ever shortened her name as a sign of endearment until she'd met Amos.
She'd never been dear to anyone until she met Amos. Hearing that nickname come
from another man's mouth sent chills up her spine. She hated hearing it.
"I think ‘Mister Brooks' and 'Miss Joy' will suit us for the time
being," she said coldly.
"That right?"
Was there nothing she
could say that would wipe the smile off this man's face? "It's the name
I'm most used to hearing. I'm 'Miss Joy' to my students."
Samuel stuck a hand in
his pocket and leaned back. "Right, right. The good mayor mentioned you
were the schoolteacher." He chuckled, shaking his head at the floor.
"Something
funny?"
"I was just
remembering my teacher. Missus Hughes. Old, crotchety woman, armed with a ruler
at all times." He set his pack down and nearly doubled over, shaking his
fist in a pantomime of brandishing a ruler, then laughed again at his own
impression. Straightening up, he said, "Maybe if I'd had something as nice
to look at as you, I would have paid more attention in class."
Jessalyn stared at the
man in a mixture of shock, horror, and anger. Did he think at all about the
words that left his mouth? Was he such a free spirit that he imagined he was
liberated of all consequences? Perhaps his days in the desert burnt away his
knowledge of manners. "Mister Brooks-"
"I really wish
you'd call me Sam."
"Mister
Brooks!" Jessalyn was nearly shouting. Shouting at a stranger in the
middle of her own house. Ridiculous. "Do you require anything else from me
at the moment? If not, I'd like to resume my work."
"Just one last
thing."
"And that
is?"
"An answer."
"I beg your
pardon?"
"Why the sudden
desire to take on boarders?" Samuel asked. "Are you so hard up for
money in this paradise town of yours?"
"I don't think
that's any of your business, Mister Brooks."
"Isn't it?"
Samuel spun in a slow circle, taking in the house again. "Young woman,
whole house to herself? How am I to know I'm not being set up? Maybe I'm
lodging with the Black Widow of Three Willows and tomorrow morning will find me
with my throat cut and my pockets emptied." He lifted his hands and
wiggled them like spider legs.
"I am doing you a
favor-"
"You're doing me a
service. There's a difference. I am paying you, you know. You have to
see how suspicious this looks."
This man was a clown. A
rude clown. Heat rose in Jessalyn's chest as she listened to him. This wasn't
how this was supposed to go.
Amos wouldn’t have
fought back. A hospitable lady of town wouldn’t have fought back. But Jessalyn
couldn’t stop herself. "No more suspicious than a man who moves to a town
with nothing but a horse and a name and manages to sweet talk his way into my
home."
Samuel narrowed his
eyes, the grin drifting to one side, sly. "You don't trust me."
"I do not know
you, Mister Brooks."
"Well, there'll be
plenty of time to remedy that."
That was it. "I
think not," Jessalyn said in her strongest reprimanding tone. "Mister
Brooks, I have acquiesced to providing a roof for your head, but this does not
entitle you to a window into my personal life. We are not friends. We are not
even familiar. Keep your distance." With that, she flew up the stairs to
her own room and slammed the door.
A low whistle echoed
throughout the house.
