Redemption. Carolyn Davidson
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and was amused by her dithering.
Alicia only nodded and went to the sink for a cup of water. Dampening the comb, she drew it through his hair and then made her first cut. Uneven bits of hair fell to the kitchen floor and she blinked. Once she’d made the initial cut, she was committed.
Moving in a half circle, she trimmed and evened out the length of his hair, dampening as she went. And then she was faced with the front, where it hung over his forehead. “How do you want this part cut?” she asked.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” he told her. “However it looks best to you.”
She leaned from the side and gauged the first snip, only to have her wrist caught in his grip. “Step around in front of me,” he told her. “I promise not to bite, Alicia.”
Too close…she was too close to him. Too near the masculine scent of him, that musky blend she’d come to associate with this man, and the aroma of shaving soap that emanated from his skin. He’d shaved today, a fact she’d noted upon arrival. For her benefit? She smiled at the thought.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, barely moving his lips as though he might disturb her concentration.
“Nothing. I was thinking of something else,” she said hastily. Then she moved even nearer, her legs touching the front of his chair, the pressure of his right knee against her thigh. It was an intimate touch, his body heat radiating through her dress and petticoat. Beneath her fingertips, his face assumed a solemn look as she lifted the hair from his forehead and cut it in soft layers. The trembling she could not control threatened to botch her task before it was well under way.
He closed his eyes and she blew softly at the small clippings that fell on his cheeks. His nose wrinkled at that and she laughed, a soft sound that stilled his nose from wiggling and appeared to halt his breathing. Then his eyes opened—dark orbs that seemed to see beneath her skin, to the woman she kept concealed. She tensed, a shiver of anticipation traveling the length of her spine.
“You have lovely eyes,” he said quietly. “I thought your hair was brown, but it isn’t, is it? It’s the color of chestnuts, sort of a ruddy hue.”
She paused, holding the scissors upright. “Chestnuts?”
Again he smiled, and she stepped away from him, her fingers still tingling from the moments spent buried in his silken hair. He smiled at her, one corner of his mouth twitching. And yet, more than amusement lit his gaze as he searched her face and posed an idle query.
“Haven’t you ever picked up horse chestnuts in the late summer and shucked them?”
She hesitated, not entirely trusting her voice to be steady. “No, I can’t say I have,” she replied, feeling she’d succeeded, her breathing steadier now that she was no longer held a willing captive by his warmth.
“I’ve done that, Miss Merriweather,” Jason said eagerly, perching on the edge of his chair. “We play stuff with them. Kinda shoot them like marbles.”
“I didn’t do much playing when I was a child, Jason. You’re a fortunate young man to have a father who allows you to play as a young boy should.”
“All the boys play,” Jason said, his brow furrowing as if he did not follow her line of thought.
“And so they should,” she murmured, once more moving closer, the better to finish the task she’d begun. She lifted a lock of hair, drawing it to its full length, then trimmed the edges and allowed it to fall into place. The bits and pieces of shorn hair fell to Jake’s shoulder and she reached automatically to brush them away.
“There,” she announced briskly. “That should do it. I think you look fine, Mr. McPherson.”
The word he murmured beneath his breath made her smile and she repeated it after him.
“Jake.”
THE HAMMER HIT THE BOARD and the nail went in true. “Bravo!” Alicia said, and offered Jason another nail. “We’ll be hiring you out as a handyman before you know it,” she told him.
“I suspect we can find enough for him to do right here for a few days,” Jake said from his place on the porch. He’d rolled out the door, stopping the chair a foot from the edge. Alicia had given the railing a dubious look, wondering if it was as sturdy as it should be, and felt a sense of relief when Jake moved no closer.
“I told Miss Merriweather I could do a lot of fixin’ stuff around here.” The boy was filled with his own importance this afternoon, and Alicia rejoiced in it. His eyes glowed, his cheeks were pink, and he smiled and joked without ceasing, it seemed.
“Maybe Miss Merriweather would let you call her Miss Alicia instead?” Jake suggested, aiming a questioning look in her direction as he spoke. “I think as long as you remember her proper name while you’re at school, maybe she wouldn’t mind if you break the rules just a bit after hours.”
Jason’s eyes widened as he considered the idea, then he looked at Alicia, his face earnest as he made his plea. “I’d like that if you don’t think it would be disrespectful, ma’am.”
She felt a churning in her breast and bent her attention fully on the boy. A wave of yearning almost swamped her, spilling over into two tears that made paths down her cheeks. “I think that would be fine,” she said, her words clear and concise, her voice barely trembling. This boy had stolen a part of her heart.
Jake cleared his throat and issued a request. “Jason, do you think you could go out in the kitchen and get two glasses of that lemonade Miss Alicia made for us? My throat is drier than the Sahara Desert.”
The boy grinned. “You’re makin’ jokes again, Pa.” He placed the hammer on the step and sent a warning glance at Alicia. “Just leave it there, Miss Alicia, and I’ll finish up the job when I get back.”
The door closed behind him and Jake bent forward in his chair. “Can I say something to you, Alicia?”
She could only nod, acutely aware of her already teary state. She would not subject the two of them to such a display of sentiment.
“I’ve been thinking about something all day,” Jake said. “I’d like you to be considering it, too.”
She looked at him, frowning at the sober expression he wore. Only a moment ago he’d been smiling. Now he viewed her with a look akin to trepidation. “If you refuse, I’ll understand,” he said. “But at least think about it, will you?”
She was confused. “I don’t think I know what you’re talking about,” she said finally.
“I’d like you to consider marriage, Alicia. To me.” He sat upright again and his expression seemed remote, as if he were lost in a memory to which she would not be allowed access. “You said you did not plan on marriage, but I think you’d be a fine mother to my son. I’d ask nothing more of you than that you take him under your wing, be a mother to him and tend to his needs. On top of all that, I feel responsible for the damage done to your reputation over the past weeks.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Her words were slow, even though her mind was racing, repeating the phrases he’d used. “I don’t hold you responsible for whatever gossip has been making the rounds, Jake. As to marriage, I’ll admit that I hadn’t thought of such a thing.”
“I’ll see to it you never want for anything,” he told her, pressing on with determination. “I don’t have a lot of money, but we’re comfortable. I have an income from the ranch I own with my brother. He gives me one quarter of the profits, which is fair, since he does one hundred percent of the work. This house is free and clear and is well built.”
She was swamped with myriad emotions. The unexpectedness of his offer—for it could hardly be called a proposal—was more than her mind could absorb. “I…I suppose I’ll have to think about it,” she said.
He nodded and his eyes clouded, as if she’d denied him already. “I understand that