His Substitute Wife. Dorothy Clark

know of the hotel?”

      Her stomach flopped. She shouldn’t know about the things he’d written Linda! She groped for a way to cover her error. “Linda shared the things you wrote about Wyoming Territory and Whisper Creek with me.” It wasn’t a lie. Not really. It was only...misleading.

      “I see.” His voice was flat, terse.

      Another mistake. She shouldn’t have mentioned Linda. She hurried to the dish dresser for the creamer and poured some of the milk into it. “Thank you for opening the can.” Blake nodded and put the can in the refrigerator, but she’d seen the taut line of his mouth, the shadow of pain in his eyes. Her hands tightened on the creamer and spoons she carried to the table. “To continue our discussion—I will need to know your routine in order to plan my household tasks, when to prepare meals and such.”

      He held her chair for her, then took the chair across the table and bowed his head. “Thank You for Your provision, Lord. Lead me—us...through this day, I pray. Amen.”

      Us. The word hung in the air, awkward and uncomfortable. She stared down at her cup, swirled milk into the hot dark brew and watched the color lighten, knowing Blake wished it were Linda sitting in her place. So did she.

      “This is good coffee.”

      Was he being polite? “I can adjust the amount if—”

      “Nope. It’s perfect as it is.” His smile looked forced. “About my schedule... I really haven’t established one yet as I’ve only just opened for business. Until now it’s all been orders from those building new homes or businesses. That number has been very few, but it’s growing. Still, having only a few residents in the town limits business.” He took a swallow of coffee, glanced over at her. “I’m up at dawn, so I open the store at seven. The first train comes through at seven ten and I’m hoping the passengers will come in and buy things they need—though none have as yet.”

      “That’s not surprising.”

      “I beg your pardon?”

      She stopped stirring and looked up. “The conductor on my train told the passengers there is no food or drink available in town and advised them not to wander away from the station as Whisper Creek is a short stop for refueling and taking on water only.”

      “I didn’t know the conductors did that.” He frowned and set his cup back on the saucer. “I’m sure some of those soldiers on their way to their postings farther west would come in for tobacco and other sundries if they knew of my store. Not to mention the civilians. At the moment, my store is the last chance for them to purchase necessities and small luxuries before they continue on their journey.”

      She sipped her coffee, weighed the idea that had popped into her head. Would he think her forward if she mentioned it? A foolish worry. How could he think her any more forward than he already did for suggesting they marry? “Perhaps a sign would help.”

      He gave her an odd, sort of surprised, quizzical look, then shook his head. “The Union Pacific does not allow signs on their property. I’ll speak to the stationmaster, ask him to tell the conductors that my store is open for business so they can pass the word along to their passengers.”

      Her pulse quickened. His descriptions in his letters had made her curious about Whisper Creek, but she’d been too nervous last night to pay much attention to the buildings and surroundings. She took another sip of coffee to keep from asking to accompany him, certain he would prefer to be alone.

      The hammering from the building next door grew louder. Blake glanced toward the window. “It will be expected that I take you on a ‘tour’ of Whisper Creek—such as it is. Would that be acceptable to you?”

      She grasped at the chance to be away from this home he’d hoped to share with Linda. It would be good for both of them to forget how Linda had altered their lives—at least for a little while. “Yes, of course. I would enjoy seeing the town—‘such as it is.’” She set her cup on its saucer and took a breath, spoke what had been on her mind all morning. “But, before we do, I’m concerned about, that is, I’m not certain I know how to play the part of a newlywed, Blake. What do you want me to do?” The muscle along his jaw jumped. Pain sharpened the planes of his face. She looked away, stared down at her coffee. “If you’d rather wait—”

      “No. We’ll take the ‘tour’ now. As for how to act—just follow my example. And bear in mind that I, too, will be acting my part. Don’t flinch away if I should...touch you.”

      The vein at his temple was pulsing again. She nodded, hid her clenched hands in her lap. “I’ll be ready as soon as I clear the table.”

      “I’ll await you downstairs in the store.” He rose and slid his chair under the table. “You may need a wrap of some sort. Early mornings are cool in the mountains.”

      She stared after Blake as he strode from the kitchen, then sighed and carried their cups and saucers to the sink cupboard. Don’t flinch away if I should...touch you. Why would he say that? She’d never had men swarming about her the way Linda did, but it wasn’t as if she’d never had a beau. And he knew she’d been promised until John Barker decided Alicia Blackwell’s sudden inheritance was the wiser move for his future and broke off their betrothal to court the spinster. She frowned and dumped the rest of her coffee into the sink. It was only that this odd situation made her nervous. She wrested what comfort she could from that thought, then set herself to act the part of a new bride.

       Chapter Three

      “I’m ready.”

      Blake pivoted toward the door to the storage room and was struck again by Audrey’s neat, trim appearance, and how well it matched her personality. Linda would be swathed in ruffles and lace that drew a man’s eye to her curves and—He jerked his mind from the conjured image of his beloved and stepped forward. Audrey moved slowly toward him, her gaze sweeping around the store before coming to rest on him.

      “Your store is larger than it seemed las—in the dark.” She stopped by a display of Bull Durham tobacco sitting beside piled boxes of ceramic doorknobs on the counter and looked up at him. “There are so many choices. How do you decide what to stock?”

      The question halted him. How like Audrey to try to distract him from their ridiculous circumstance. He’d forgotten how kind she was. Her intelligence demanded a well-considered answer. He gathered his thoughts. “I try to think of what will be required to build the town and then keep those items in stock for the men doing the work. Right now, that’s mostly foodstuffs, tools and hardware and other construction needs, along with tobacco products and a smattering of household items.”

      “Oh, I see...”

      Her gaze slid toward the back corner. A frown formed a small line between her delicately arched eyebrows. He glanced at the tables that sat there, a large one covered with piles of denim pants and cotton shirts, a smaller one covered with a few bolts of cloth and some small baskets of buttons and other notions. “Is there a problem with my dry goods section? I know it’s small. But until your...arrival, there were only two women in town—Mrs. Ferndale and Yan Cheng, the laundress.”

      She looked up, met his gaze full on. “Do you want my honest opinion?”

      Probably not enough ribbons and lace to suit her. Still, if she was nice enough to pretend interest in the store, he should humor her. “Yes, of course.”

      “Very well.” She took a soft breath. “I understand your reasoning—and it makes perfect sense to cater to the majority of your customers. But, if you are hoping to sell to the women passengers on the trains passing through, then—in my opinion—you should bring your dry goods forward out of that dark corner.” She crossed to the table and touched the basket holding ribbons. “It is hard to see what you have displayed here. And the dim light afforded by the overhead lamps does not show the fabric or trimmings in a true light. It is most frustrating to buy