The Rancher's Hand-Picked Bride. Elizabeth August

vigorously. “That’s true.”

      Not wanting to discuss Jess or his great-grandmother any further, Gwen changed the subject to her original purpose. “Can I give you a hand with dinner?”

      Lilly shook her head. “Oh, no. You’re a guest.”

      “I’m an employee just like you,” Gwen corrected. “And right this minute I need to feel useful.”

      For a moment Lilly made no response, then said, “If you really don’t mind, I would like to get home a little early. Bobbie, my grandson, has a baseball game tonight and I told him I’d try to get there to see him pitch.”

      Gwen had hoped that Lilly was live-in help. The more people around, the better. Then chiding herself for this bit of totally unnecessary cowardliness, she forced a smile. “No problem. What do you want me to do?”

      “I’ve cooked a stew.” As she spoke, Lilly lifted the lid of a heavy iron pot on the stove and gave the contents a stir. With a shrug of her shoulder toward the long heavy wooden table in the center of the large kitchen, she added, “And the table is set. All that’s left is to take the corn bread out of the oven. When the timer goes off it should be ready.”

      “I know how to tell if it’s done,” Gwen assured her. “You run along.”

      Lilly hesitated. “Are you sure?”

      “Yes, now go.”

      Lilly was heading for the door when Jess entered.

      “I told her to leave and let me finish putting the meal on the table,” Gwen said hurriedly, uncertain how strict Jess was about his help leaving early and not wanting to be the cause of any anger toward Lilly.

      “I was just coming in to offer the same service,” Jess returned in an easy drawl, giving the housekeeper a friendly smile. “You run along and go see Bobbie pitch.”

      “Thanks.” Lilly grinned back, then hurried on her way.

      Surprised that Jess had been willing to take over kitchen duties, but wanting him to leave, Gwen said, “I can take care of things in here. You go back to whatever you usually do before dinner.”

      “Fixing dinner isn’t your job.”

      The need to feel useful was too strong for Gwen to retreat. “I told Lilly I’d do it. Now, just go away and let me take care of things here.” Suddenly realizing she was trying to order Jess Logan around in his own home, she hid her embarrassment behind a shield of angry impatience.

      For a long moment, Jess studied her, then a small crooked grin tilted one corner of his mouth. “I’d offer to arm wrestle you for it, but I figure I’d better keep my distance. As I recall, the last time I saw someone get you riled it was Joe Jackson and you punched him so hard in the stomach, you got yourself suspended from school for three days.”

      Gwen recalled the incident vividly. It had happened during her sophomore year in high school. The minute she’d thrown the punch, she’d known it was the wrong thing to do and truly felt horrible about it. But Joe had hit a tender nerve…a very tender nerve. He’d whispered in her ear that he’d heard her mother was “easy” and could be had for a couple of drinks. Then he’d wanted to know what Gwen’s price was. Her shoulders straightened with defiance. “Joe Jackson had a vulgar mouth.”

      “True. But most girls would have just slapped him or given him a nasty look and walked away.”

      “That would only have egged him on.” Fighting down a surge of old guilt at her act of violence, she added in her defense, “He needed to be taught a lesson.”

      “You’re right. He did.”

      Gwen had expected Jess to continue mocking her behavior. That he agreed with her, startled her. Adding to her surprise, he grinned.

      “I can still see the look on Joe’s face,” he said. “He always bullied you girls because he never expected you to respond the way you did.”

      A haunted shadow flitted in Gwen’s eyes. “His type only prey on those weaker than themselves.”

      Jess’s smile vanished and his gaze narrowed on her. “You sound like you’ve had more than your share of experience with his type.”

      Angry that she’d nearly revealed things she was determined to keep private, she said with cool calm, “All women have had experience with his type. Some are just slower learners than others. That’s what keeps me in business.” Not wanting this conversation to continue, she turned her attention to the timer on the stove. “Looks like it’s getting to be time to pour the drinks.” Realizing he wasn’t leaving, she added, “Since you came to work and you know more about where things are in this kitchen, you can do that. I’ll take water.”

      Gwen could feel Jess staring at her. Her breath locked in lungs as she waited for him to make some snide remark about her ordering him around in his own kitchen. Then the sensation was gone and she heard him moving around the room, finding glasses and filling them.

      Neither spoke except for the necessary communications involved in getting the dinner on the table and summoning Morning Hawk. As all three seated themselves and they began to dish food onto their plates, the stilted atmosphere remained.

      Morning Hawk’s gaze traveled between them. “Obviously the two of you haven’t decided to be social to one another yet, but I am relieved you can be left alone in a room full of weapons and not get into a fight.”

      Jess’s eyes leveled on Gwen. “I tried to make small talk but she was like a wet cat. She snapped at everything I said.”

      Gwen met his gaze. “You were being nosy.”

      “All right, so maybe I was.”

      Gwen’s eyes rounded. “You admit it?”

      “I realized a long time ago that your coldness wasn’t limited just to me. You seem to hold a grudge against men in general. I was just curious as to why.”

      Gwen’s jaw hardened. “Men are users.”

      “Not all men.”

      “I suppose. But it’s hard to know which are and which aren’t. To avoid any trouble, I prefer to assume the worst and steer clear.” Immediately, she regretted not keeping her mouth shut. Jess was regarding her so narrowly his gaze felt like a knife trying to pierce the thick skin she’d grown around herself. Refusing to allow this conversation to remain on her, she added in a calm tone, “But then some women are users as well. I’m assuming that’s why I’m here. To make sure you don’t get hooked by one of them.”

      Jess’s attention turned to his great-grandmother. “I’ve always considered myself real good at telling a shark from a trout.”

      Morning Hawk smiled. “Sometimes a man’s vision can be so blurred by the beauty and excitement of the moment, he’s sunk the hook before he realizes he’s snagged a fish not worth reeling in.”

      “When I’m doing some serious fishing, I always cast my line carefully,” Jess assured her.

      Morning Hawk’s expression became that of a wise sage. “No one can be certain about what lies beneath still waters.”

      Jess shook his head in a gesture of defeat and turned his attention to his food.

      Gwen breathed a mental sigh of relief as silence again settled over the table.

      A couple of hours later, Gwen plopped into the chair in her bedroom.

      Following the meal, Jess had insisted on helping her clean up the kitchen.

      “I’m sure the two of you don’t need my help,” Morning Hawk had said, and headed for the door. Then as if she’d had second thoughts, she’d seated herself in a rocking chair by the potbellied stove and taken out some handwork she kept in a basket there.

      Gwen had the impression the elderly woman had decided that a peacemaker or,