Protecting Their Baby. Sheri WhiteFeather
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until they were old and gray. They didn’t have to worry about biological clocks, which probably explained why they didn’t obsess about falling in love nearly so much as the female half of the species.
“Hannah…”
“What?” she asked.
“I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Hannah sighed. She was being overly sensitive, but that didn’t change the way she felt. “Forget it.” But he stood there waiting and she shrugged. “It’s just that I’ve been teased a lot about Ten Penny’s wedding—you know, about it making me the last spinster. I thought you were getting into the fun, as well.”
Genuine shock registered on his face. “I’d never do that, Hannah. I only brought it up because—”
“Honey, that punch could use some more kick,” called Ten Penny into the kitchen. “But yer daddy’s fresh out of gin at the bar and he can’t find his keys to the storeroom.”
Hannah leaned her forehead against the worn wood of a cabinet for a second. A kick. That’s all she needed—a bunch of elderly revelers getting punch drunk. “Okay, I’ll get it.”
She hurried out again, at the same time checking on Jamie. Despite her muddled emotions, Hannah smiled. Ross had left the boy with three older women, who clucked over him like a bunch of broody hens. There weren’t many children in Quicksilver; the town didn’t have any opportunities for young families, so most of them migrated to larger communities like Anchorage or Fairbanks.
Ross caught her arm. “Let’s sneak out for a little while.”
“I’m busy.” Hannah pulled away, but he followed her to the storeroom. Honestly, he’d waited over seventeen years to come see her, and now he acted like the building was on fire and he didn’t have a moment to waste.
“I am very, very serious. Could we please go somewhere private?” he asked.
Hannah rolled her eyes. “I have a wedding reception to take care of, Ross. Why don’t you roll up your sleeves and help me? There’s plenty of time. We can talk later.”
“Well, I—”
“Honey, where’s that gin?” call Ten Penny.
“Coming.”
Sighing again, Hannah hunted up a bottle and pushed past Ross. The small room felt even smaller with him filling up the entrance, his eyes dark and intent as they watched her. It was uncomfortable, feeling so aware of him as a man.
“Here you go.”
She handed the bottle to Ten Penny, who proceeded to empty it into the bowl. Hannah grimaced as the scent of gin assailed her senses; ordinarily she left serving spirits to her father, but this was a special occasion.
“That’s better, darlin’,” said Ten Penny, smacking her lips over the fortified punch. She handed a cup to her groom, who nodded with equal approval.
“That’s fine,” Joe crowed. “Have some, too, Hannah girl. “It’ll put hair on yer chest.”
His bride shook a finger at him. “Hush, Joe. Hannah don’t need no hair on her chest. Ain’t that right, Ross?” she called. “You been looking plenty at Hannah’s chest. It looks just dandy, don’t it?”
“Uh…” Ross choked, and heat crept up his neck. “Her chest is fine.”
Edgar Liggett stood across the room, glaring with parental indignation, and Ross whistled beneath his breath. Proposing to Hannah was a whole lot more complicated than he’d thought it would be. As for Hannah…He turned and saw her studying him with a strained expression on her face.
Great. Thanks to Joe and Ten Penny she probably thought he’d turned into a sex fiend over the years, and it wasn’t true. He was a normal man who enjoyed looking at a woman’s body; Hannah had grown up very nicely and he appreciated that fact.
“Hannah?” called someone else from across the room. “You got any more coffee?”
“And sugar,” added another voice.
Ross gritted his teeth. It seemed as if everyone in Quicksilver had a claim on Hannah’s time and attention, and a vague sense of guilt nagged at him. Was he being fair, hoping to get her sympathy with Jamie? Or would she be grateful for the chance to finally get away from Quicksilver?
His frustration built as he kept trying to get her alone. “Sit down,” he said when she scooted past him for the seventh time.
She gave him a distracted smile. “After a bit.”
It was the last straw. “Hannah Liggett,” he roared. “I want to propose! So, will you or won’t you marry me?” Ross regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, but it was too late and he was too frazzled to care.
Except for an excited titter next to the food table, the room fell silent.
Hannah turned white and stared at him. “What?”
He loosened the collar around his neck. “I…uh, asked you to marry me.”
“That’s what I thought.” Turning, she headed straight for the door of the restaurant. Ross thought there were tears in her eyes and he swore under his breath.
“Watch Jamie for a minute, okay?” he asked Hannah’s father before heading out the door himself.
If there was one thing he hated, it was seeing Hannah cry. She’d always been so brave when they were growing up, taking her lumps and smiling through everything. There was only one other time he’d seen her really crying, and he still remembered the horrid feeling it gave him.
More from instinct than memory, he found her in the small copse of trees where she’d always gone to be alone. Ross sighed at the sight of her standing there, her hands clenched into fists.
“Ah, Hannah. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Her chin lifted and he saw she wasn’t upset—she was furious. “How could you say something like that in front of everyone? Do you enjoy making a fool out of me?”
“But I do want to marry you.”
Hannah wanted to kick him. He didn’t get it at all. It couldn’t have been more obvious to the entire town that Ross didn’t have any romantic feelings for her. They were probably having a rib-splitting chuckle over the whole thing.
“Jamie needs a mother,” Ross continued quietly. “And you’re the only woman I could ever trust him with.”
She ground her teeth. Ross wanted to marry reliable old Hannah—cook, baby-sitter and all-around good sport. She’d moaned about being the last single woman in Quicksilver, but this wasn’t what she’d had in mind to correct the matter. Jeez, she felt so stupid for getting worked up about Ross; he didn’t have any interest in her, not as a woman.
“You should wait to fall in love,” she muttered. “That’ll be best for Jamie.”
Ross studied her, his hands thrust in his pockets. “I was in love with my first wife and it was a disaster. But this would be great—two friends getting married. Don’t you see how perfect it is? We always backed each other up when things got bad. And friendship is a much better basis for marriage than some fleeting emotion based mostly on lust.”
Hannah wanted to scream “no.” No she wouldn’t marry him. And no, love meant more than just lust. Yet she couldn’t help remembering Jamie’s solemn, almost worried face; her pride wasn’t the only thing to consider. And Ross obviously valued their friendship, so it wasn’t like he didn’t care about her. In a way he’d paid her a huge compliment.
“Maybe I could be your housekeeper,” she suggested.
“No.” Ross shook his head. “My ex-wife signed over custody for a large monetary settlement, but she’s already making noises about getting Jamie back. I need a wife