Stealing Jake - By Pam Hillman Page 0,1
boy. She didn’t make a habit of introducing herself to strangers, but revealing her name might keep Mr. Russell’s mind off the boys who’d waylaid him. “Livy O’Brien.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. O’Brien.”
“Miss O’Brien,” she said. At least the gathering twilight masked the flush she could feel stealing across her cheeks.
Was it her imagination, or did the grin on Jake Russell’s face grow wider?
“Pleased to meet you, Miss O’Brien. May I escort you to wherever you’re going?” His eyes twinkled. “It’ll be dark soon, and a lady shouldn’t be out alone after dark.”
Livy sobered. She’d never claimed to be a lady. The tiny glow inside her faded with the setting sun. Mr. Russell would never be interested in Light-Fingered Livy O’Brien. “No thank you, Mr. Russell. I’m not going far. I’ll be fine.”
“I’d feel better, ma’am.” He gestured toward the alley. “Especially after what happened.”
He held out his arm, one eyebrow cocked in invitation. Her emotions warred with her head. She shouldn’t allow such liberties, but what harm would it do to let him escort her home?
Just once.
She placed her hand in the crook of his arm. “Very well. Thank you, Mr. Russell.”
“Call me Jake.”
Livy’s heart gave a nervous flutter. Did Mr. Russell mask his intentions behind a gentlemanly face and kindly words? A common enough practice where she came from. “I’m afraid using your given name would be a little too familiar. I don’t know anything about you.”
“Well, I can remedy that. What do you want to know?”
Livy shook her head, softening her refusal with a smile. It wouldn’t do to ask the man questions about himself. If she did, then he’d feel at liberty to ask questions of his own. Questions she didn’t want to answer.
He chuckled. “You sure are a shy little thing, Miss O’Brien.”
Better to let him think her bashful than know the truth. A couple of years ago, she might have spun a yarn or two to keep him entertained, but no longer. If she couldn’t speak the truth, she’d say nothing at all.
Her silence didn’t stop him. “You must be new around here. I don’t remember seeing you before.”
“I arrived in Chestnut about two months ago.”
“That explains it. I’ve only been back in town a few weeks myself.”
Livy darted a glance from the corner of her eye to study him. Discreetly, of course—she’d at least learned something from Mrs. Brooks. The top of her head barely reached his chin, and broad shoulders filled out his coat. A late-afternoon shadow dusted his firm jawline.
He stepped off the boardwalk and helped her across a patch of ice. Her stomach flopped when his green eyes connected with hers, and she blurted out the first thing that popped into her mind. “Oh? Where’ve you been?”
She could’ve bitten her tongue. She shouldn’t have asked, but curiosity had gotten the best of her. What made her want to know more about Jake Russell? Mercy, why should she even wonder about the man? He wasn’t anyone she should worry with.
If only her foolish girl’s heart would listen to reason.
“Taking care of some business in Missouri. It’s good to be home, though.”
They ambled in silence past the Misses Huff Millinery Shop and the recently opened Chinese laundry. The scent of green lumber tickled Livy’s nose, bringing forth the image of the fresh sprig of mistletoe hung over the door of the orphanage.
The boardwalk ended just past the laundry. Livy gestured into the gathering darkness. “It’s a little farther down this way.”
“I don’t mind.”
The snow-covered ground lay frozen, Livy’s footprints from when she’d trekked into town the only evidence of anyone being out and about on this frigid day.
They rounded the bend, and Livy eased her hand from the warmth of Jake’s arm when they came within sight of the rambling two-story house nestled under a grove of cottonwoods. “Thank you, Mr. Russell. This is where I live.”
* * *
Jake studied the building before returning his attention to the petite lady at his side. He’d known the moment he laid eyes on her that they hadn’t met. He would have remembered. “This is the new orphanage, isn’t it?”
“Yes. That’s right.”
“I heard someone opened one up. ’Bout time. Lots of young’uns needing a place to stay these days.”
“We already have five children in our care.”
They stepped onto the porch, and she pushed the hood of her cape back. Light from inside the house shot fire through reddish-brown curls and revealed a smattering of freckles across a pert nose.
She’d knocked the wind out