Cinderella in Overalls - By Carol Grace Page 0,76
the marketplace. They can come by to see you in a few days.”
“A few days?” She looked around the room, really seeing it for the first time, the huge window with the spectacular view.
“You’re not going anywhere until those ribs heal. And after that I thought I might talk you into staying around.”
“Here in the city?”
“It was just an idea.”
“How would you feel if I asked you to stay around with me on the farm?”
“Is that a proposal?” he asked with a gleam in his eye.
She looked up. His mouth quirked up at the corners, but his eyes turned serious. “No,” she said. “Was yours?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but she couldn’t say a word. She put her hand on his arm. “You don’t mean that. You were scared when you thought I was dead. But I’m alive, and pretty soon I’ll be well and we’ll go our separate ways. You rescued me and I’m grateful, but—”
“But not that grateful.”
“Yes... no. People can’t get married because they’re grateful. They have to be in love.” The more she said, the deeper the hole she dug for herself. Now he’d ask her if she loved him and she’d have to say yes if she were honest. It wouldn’t do any good to lie. She’d been lying to herself too long. She lied to Jacinda, but Jacinda saw through her. All the women did. Josh must see it, too, her love for him shining in her eyes and hear it in her voice.
She closed her eyes and lay back on the pillow, exhausted by trying to keep her secret. Even with her eyes closed she felt his gaze on her, asking the unspoken question. She pressed her lips together to keep from blurting the answer. And then she drifted off into blissful unconsciousness.
She woke up hungry and thirsty. He brought soup and tea and watched her eat. “Where did you get this?” she asked, squinting up at him. “And where are you going?”
He straightened his tie. “I’m going to the bank for an hour. Just to check in and pick up my mail. Here’s the phone. If you need me, here’s the number.”
She slept all afternoon, and when she woke up it was evening. From the bed she could see the lights of the city below. Josh was standing at the window, his body outlined against the glass, so tall, so strong and so wrong for her. How could fate be so cruel as to send her a man she couldn’t have? Even if she canceled her five-year plan, what good would that do? How could he possibly imagine that she could live in the middle of a city, this city or any city?
Sensing she was awake, he crossed the room quietly. As he approached, she saw he was wearing a soft denim shirt and faded jeans. She wanted to feel his shirt against her face, and touch the jeans with her fingertips, feeling the hard muscles of his thighs. She hungered for his touch.
“Hungry?” he asked, as if he’d read her mind.
She smiled and held out her hand to him. He knelt there on the floor, and even in the dim light she could see the warmth in his eyes, the love and the care.
“Dinnertime,” he said, and went to the kitchen. When he came back, he had baked beans and brown bread on a plate.
“These are your emergency rations,” she protested, remembering from her earlier visit.
“This is an emergency,” he said. “And I don’t need to save them anymore. I’m going home at the end of next month. I got my promotion.”
She swallowed a mouthful of beans despite the lump in her throat. “That’s wonderful,” she said. She was proud of her quick response, but not as proud of the way her hands shook or the sudden pounding in her head. Just when she was getting better, she felt worse. Much worse. She set her dish down and pressed her hand against her heart. Bones break, but not hearts. It was just a saying, but it was a lie.
“What is it?” he asked, easing himself onto the bed. He pressed his hand against her chest. “Do your ribs hurt?”
She nodded. “I think so.” She took her hand away, but his stayed, his fingers below her breasts, sending vibrations through her body.
“I want you to come with me,” he said.
“Where, to Boston?” she asked, dumbfounded.
“It doesn’t have to be right in Boston. People do live outside of town and