Montana Man. Jillian Hart
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Josie limped toward her, locket sparkling against her blue wool dress. “Are you shoppin’, too?”
“I firmly believe that shopping is a girl’s duty.” Warmth gathered behind her breastbone, and she knelt so she was eye-level with the child. “You’ve got an empty basket.”
“I can’t decide. I’m tryin’, but it’s hard.” Josie’s brow wrinkled. “Uncle Trey doesn’t know anything about shoppin’.”
“Men never do. It’s one of their many flaws.”
“I heard that.” Trey’s boots knelled on the floorboards. “My flaws are only good ones. And Josie, I can, too, shop.”
Miranda gazed up the strong column of Trey’s legs, encased in soft denim, past the breadth of his chest. Her heart kicked just from looking at him. Heavens, he was a handsome man.
“You can’t, either, Uncle Trey.” Josie shook her head. “I gotta have curtains and not plain white ones.”
“White curtains?” Miranda lifted one brow. “Surely you can spring for a nice print.”
Trey held up his hands. “What’s wrong with white? It matches everything.”
“I see your problem, Josie.” Miranda tried hard not to look at Trey again. “It looks like you need help with that flawed uncle of yours.”
“I may be the best doctor this side of the Badlands, but I’m confused. I don’t know what’s wrong with white. We can have white curtains, white quilts.” Trey gestured toward the ready-made items spread out on a back counter. “Maybe blue?”
“But it’s for my bedroom.” Josie grabbed hold of Miranda’s hand. “’Cept we don’t got a bed yet, and I’m only five.”
“You need help, Josie. You can’t trust a man to do a woman’s job.” Miranda took a breath, heart pounding. “I could help you out this morning. I have a few hours to spare until the train comes.”
“The train?” Josie’s brow furrowed. “You can’t leave. You just can’t. You got off at my new town and everything.”
Miranda gently brushed soft red curls away from the girl’s sad eyes, feeling Trey’s scrutiny like a physical touch. “This isn’t my new home, Josie, not like it’s yours. I have to go.”
“Oh.” Josie blinked, and tears gleamed there, honest and aching.
Trey’s face darkened, the jaunty grin gone from his mouth, leaving only a stark strength. “Miranda, where do you plan on going? There won’t be a train today.”
“I have a schedule right here in my pocket.”
“The passes are closed due to the storm.”
“Closed?” That didn’t sound like a good thing. Not good at all. Maybe for the train, but not for her. “The trains will run as soon as the storm’s over, right?”
“It’s not that simple. You’re in Montana Territory now. The word is that there won’t be a train for a few days after the storm or more. Maybe an entire week. We’ve got twelve-foot drifts out there.”
“A week?” She couldn’t stay here for a week. That would give the bounty hunters too much time to backtrack. Now what did she do? “I can’t leave until the storm clears.”
“No one leaves this town or enters it until then. We’re rimmed by mountains on all four sides, and the teamsters’ routes take as long to clear as the tracks.”
“We’ll see.” She’d been in worse straits and figured her way out of them.
“Will you really help me, Miranda?” Josie clung tightly to Trey with one hand, and Baby Beth with the other. “Mama made my other bedroom, and now I only got Uncle Trey.”
Trey gazed down at her, sizzling male power. “Yes, Miranda, help us. I’m woefully inadequate.”
It had been so long since she’d felt like this, full and alive, as if she could make a difference. As if she had worth.
But what if one of the bounty hunter’s men had spent the night here, too?
Either way, she was trapped in this town until the storm passed. “Okay, I’ll help you out. Let’s take a look at these quilts again. Tell me which ones you like.”
“I like the dotted one.” Josie ambled away from Trey’s grip. “And the flowers. Do you like them?”
“Absolutely.”
Miranda let Josie study the two patterns she liked for a long moment. Trey didn’t leave. He stood behind them, his presence as hard to ignore as the blizzard outside. Every hair on the back of her neck tingled, as if his look were a touch.
Why did her skin sparkle, as if waiting for his caress? After how Lewis had tried to hurt her, the last thing she wanted was a man’s affections.
Every time she looked up, Trey’s gaze met hers. Every time Josie limped to him, eager to show her uncle every item she’d decided to buy, he grinned.
Why on earth did his smile make the emptiness in her chest fade away?
The door blew open with a bang. Miranda protected Josie from the wind as Trey gestured for them to enter his home. Snow drove past them onto the rag rug in the entry, and Miranda took Josie’s hand, careful to keep her from slipping as she stepped with her bad leg on the slick wood floor.
“Let me tend to Josie.” Miranda knelt down to unbutton the girl’s ice-caked cloak. “It’s too cold to leave the deliveryman outside.”
Trey kicked the door closed, wrapped in snow. “Doesn’t look like Mrs. Stoltz is here right now. I hate to ask—”
“Go help the deliveryman.” Miranda nodded, peeling Josie out of her cloak. “I have a feeling they don’t usually do this in the middle of a storm.”
“Whoppler owes me a favor or two.” He winked, knelt down to ruffle Josie’s red hair. “I’m going to need a doorman.”
“I can do it!” Josie lit up. “I know I can.”
“The floor’s awful slick.”
“I can be careful.”
Affection flickered in his eyes before he tugged open the door and struggled outside into the mighty storm.
“Are you excited to get your new furniture?” Miranda tugged off Josie’s rubber boots.
“Uh-huh. It’ll be like I have a home here now.”
“I’m glad.” Miranda hung the little cloak and scarf onto wall pegs to dry. “Can you go fetch me a towel? I’ll get this floor cleaned up, so you won’t slip.”
Josie took off, her gait hurried but uneven. Miranda slipped out of her wraps, taking a moment to look around. The windows were dark, even for midday, casting the room in shadows.
Honeyed log walls and floors kept the bitter cold out. She knelt before the gray stone fireplace and stirred the banked embers. Exposed to air, they glowed. When she added kindling, they became fire.
She lit a lamp, and she could see the room better. A fine carpet softened the wood floor. The overstuffed sofa looked comfortable, the perfect place to relax after a long day. A book lay open on one of the cushions.
What would it be like to live in a home like this? Snug and cozy, safe from the bitter storm and all her troubles? To curl up on a sofa and read for hours?
“Here’s a towel.” Josie, breathless with excitement, walked as fast as her injured leg would allow.
“We’d better hurry.” Miranda set aside her daydreaming.
She barely finished drying the floor for Josie when a bump sounded at the door. Miranda opened