The door to the café opened, the cold wind
slamming it against the wall. The
restaurant grew quiet with the sudden entrance, and Eugenia
turned to see who
was making such a racket.
Wyatt Jones stood in the doorway, his muscular
frame filling the opening. His
cowboy hat sat at an angle on top of his head, and his large
brown eyes scanned
the room.
In his hand, he carried a duffle bag.
Eugenia tried to ignore the big man as he
strolled through the doorway and
removed his Stetson.
Their gazes locked across the room, and he
smiled, his full lips turning up in
a grin that made her body soften and her heart give an extra
little ca-thunk.
He spoke to the waitress, but his gaze never wavered from
Eugenia.
Uh-oh. A tingle of nerves zinged through her
bones. This couldn't be good.
His boots made a rhythmic thump, thump, thump on
the wooden floor as he walked
with a determined stride straight toward her, his bag in
hand, his spurs
jingling. Nervously, she licked her lips.
Myrtle's back faced the door, and she continued
to blather about something. But
Eugenia couldn't seem to focus on the words. All she could
see was this
handsome cowboy walking her way. She couldn't stop staring
at him. She knew he
was coming for her.
She'd already sent several women his way, and
she didn't think he was here to
thank her for curing his loneliness.
Wyatt stopped at their table, touching the rim
of his hat as he glanced at
Myrtle. "Morning Mrs. Sanders. Nice to see you."
He pivoted to Eugenia, his brown eyes dancing
with merriment. Staring into
those earthy eyes, a warm flush settled over her like a
blanket. He opened the
bag, withdrew a casserole dish, and laid it on the table. He
took a second dish
out and placed it alongside the first one, and then another,
and another.
Oh dear.
When he finished, six clean, empty casserole
dishes sat in front of her.
His mouth turned up in that slow, lazy grin that
burned a sizzle along her
spine. Why did this man make her feel like she'd raced her
grandchildren around
the yard and couldn't catch her breath? Why did this man
make her more nervous
than a virgin on her wedding day? Why did this man have her
wondering how his
lips would feel against her own?
"Eugenia," he said in that deep drawl that sent
shivers skittering over
her. "You've been mighty busy, sending women out to my
house. You've kept me
and my men well fed the last couple of weeks."
"Glad I could help," she said, her voice
sounding breathy and soft.
He leaned in close and put his hands on either
side of her, effectively pinning
her in the chair. She felt the urge to jump up and run, but
resisted. She sat
there, stared him in the eye and refused to back down. No
longer would she back
down to any man. Never again.
"While I appreciate the effort, I'm not taking
the bait. There's only one woman
in this town that I'm interested in pursuing to become my
wife." The deep
timbre of his voice was low and commanding.
"And pray tell, who would that be?" she asked,
knowing she would have him
hitched as soon as possible.