The Bride Next Door. Winnie GriggsЧитать онлайн книгу.
keeper—nor did he want to be. “Mind if I ask what you’re doing in here?”
“I was trying to clear the way to the back door so I could open it up and air out the place.”
Was she being deliberately obtuse? “I mean, why are you in here in the first place?”
She tilted her chin up. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m cleaning the place up so Kip and I don’t have to sleep in the middle of this rubbish and dirt.”
He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Daisy Johnson’s lack of ladylike sensibilities went beyond the unrefined rustic “charm” that he’d grown to expect from the women of this backwater that circumstances had forced him to call home for the present. She was outspoken, obviously uneducated and her manner was rough and belligerent.
“It is my business if you wake me up from a sound sleep in the middle of the night,” he countered.
At least she had the grace to blush at that. “Oh. Sorry. I wasn’t thinking about the racket reaching over to you.”
He stood and offered a hand to help her up. “Apology accepted. As long as you cease and desist until a more civilized hour.”
“Fair enough.”
He noticed another quickly suppressed wince as she put weight on the injured foot, but she didn’t utter a sound.
“If you won’t see the doctor,” he said, keeping a hand at her elbow, “at least tell me where your father is so I can fetch him to tend to you.” The sooner he could turn her over to someone else and return to the comfort of his bed, the better.
She tugged her arm out of his grasp and hobbled over to a nearby crate to sit down. He grimaced at the little cloud of dust that rose as she settled.
“I reckon he’s halfway to the Louisiana border by now,” she answered, reaching down to scratch her scruffy-looking dog.
Had her father abandoned her? Despite himself, Everett felt a stirring of sympathy. He spied the bedroll next to the lamp. “So you broke in here looking for a place to spend the night.”
She shifted as if to find a more comfortable position for her foot, and he saw a snatch of cobweb caught in her tawny hair. He had an unexpected urge to brush it away, but quickly shook off the impulse.
“I aim to spend more than the night here,” she said with a smile.
Did she intend to claim squatter’s rights? Well, it was her bad luck that the building already had an owner. “Despite the way this place looks,” he said, trying to let her down gently, “it’s not abandoned. And I’m afraid the owner might not look favorably on your plans to take up residence.”
“That’s where you’d be wrong.” There was a decidedly smug look to her smile. “I’m the owner, and I don’t have a problem with it at all.”
Chapter Two
Everett stared at her, feeling his momentary sympathy fade. Had he heard correctly? But there she sat, like a queen on her dusty throne. How could that be? “Last I heard, Gus Ferguson owned this place.” He managed to keep his tone neutral.
“He did.” She gave a self-satisfied smile. “Until he lost it to my father in a poker game.”
A poker game? That shouldn’t surprise him as much as it did. “And your father, in turn, gave it to you, I suppose.”
She brushed at her skirt, not quite meeting his gaze. “Let’s just say he owed it to me.”
A cryptic turn of phrase, but he brushed aside his curiosity for now. There were more important matters to get to the bottom of. “If you don’t mind my asking, what are your plans for the place?” If she was going to be his neighbor, he wanted some idea as to what he was going to be in for.
“I’m going to set up my business here.”
Not the answer he’d expected. “What kind of business?”
From the look she gave him, he surmised some of his displeasure had come through in his tone.
“Well,” she replied, eyeing him carefully, “I eventually want to open a restaurant.”
She was just full of surprises. “You know how to cook?”
Her brown eyes narrowed, and her smudged chin tilted up. “You don’t have to say it like that. I happen to be a great cook—everybody says so.”
Just who did everybody include—her father and dog, perhaps? Then he took a very pointed look around him. “A restaurant—in here?”
“Of course I won’t be able to open it right away.” Her voice was less confident now. “I’ll need to earn some money first so I can fix this place up and furnish it proper. And of course I’ll need to buy a good stove.”
She didn’t seem particularly daunted by the task ahead of her. “And how do you intend to do that? Earn the money, I mean.”
She shrugged. “I’m not my father’s daughter for nothing. I’ll figure something out.”
Her father’s daughter—did that mean she planned to try her luck in the poker game over at the livery?
She rotated her neck, and Everett saw signs of fatigue beneath her bravado. For the first time, he wondered about the particulars of her arrival. “If your father didn’t come back to Turnabout with you, how did you get here?”
“I walked, mostly.” Then she grinned proudly. “Made it in three days.”
Her father had allowed her to take a three-day journey alone and on foot? Everett felt incensed on her behalf. Had the peddler given any thought at all to what might have happened? The man should be thoroughly trounced.
A suspicious rumbling from the vicinity of her stomach brought up another question. When had she last eaten?
The faint pinkening of her cheeks was the only acknowledgment she made of the unladylike noise. “Right now, though,” she said quickly, “I’m just going to clean up a spot where I can spread my bedroll and get some sleep while I wait for the sun to come up.”
He looked around at the layers of dust and the lack of useable furnishings. “You plan to sleep on the floor?”
“I don’t see any fancy beds in here. Do you?” Her cheerful tone lacked any hint of self-pity. “Besides, I’ve bedded down on worse.” Her pleased-with-herself grin returned. “And being as it’ll be my very first night in my very own place, I expect I’ll sleep very well.”
She placed her hands on her skirt and levered herself up. “I’m sorry I disturbed your sleep, and I thank you for checking in on me, but you can go on back to your place now. I promise Kip and I won’t be disturbing you anymore tonight.”
Apparently feeling she’d dismissed him, she turned and started picking her way across the room.
Everett contemplated her words while he watched her limp toward a relatively uncluttered spot near the wall that adjoined his place. Her state of affairs wasn’t really any of his concern, and she’d just made it abundantly clear she felt the same. She seemed content with her circumstances, and he had a busy day planned for tomorrow, so he should return to his bed and try to get what sleep he could before sunup.
But for some reason, he stood there a moment longer, watching her. His thoughts turned unaccountably to Abigail, his fifteen-year-old sister. What if she were in this situation? Which was a ridiculous thought, of course. Abigail was safely ensconced in a nice boarding school in Boston and would never find herself in a situation like this.
Still...
* * *
Daisy frowned as she heard her visitor—or was it intruder?—leave. For all his fine airs, he could be mighty rude. He’d all but said he didn’t believe her claim to being