An Unwilling Husband by Tera Shanley Page A

like,” he said, “you rub your hands together before you dig in. You used to do that when you were a kid, too. It’s funny that you still do it.”
    She laughed, and he stuck another slice into his mouth then pushed one from his pile toward her. The urge to rub her hands together again nearly overwhelmed her. As if he’d read her mind, Garret laughed. That he’d remembered a personal habit she’d never noticed warmed her heart.
    “I was thinking,” he said around a bite of tart fruit.
    “Uh, oh. That sounds dooming.”
    His brows lowered and his darkened eyes met hers. “I was thinking on what you said yesterday. About making the best of the situation? I know I haven’t been fair to you. Now, I can’t promise to change my ways completely. I feel the same as I did yesterday, but I should be trying harder than this—” He waved his hand around. “Making us both miserable. We know this ain’t a love match.”
    She dropped her gaze to avoid him seeing the pain that was surely in it. He was finally trying to talk to her. The least she could do was make it easy for him to continue.
    “I think this would be easier on us if we could be friends,” he finished.
    She looked up and smiled at him. Even if a little sadly, it was the best she could do. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Mr. Shaw.”
    He held out his hand, but raw and exposed to the fickle blade of his words, she hesitated to touch him. Then she pressed her hand lightly into Garret’s, amazed by the warmth of it, and shook it slowly.
    “Maggie, what happened to your hand?” he said, turning it over and giving her a puzzled look.
    Embarrassed, she pulled it away. Should she admit how hard she’d been working to prove him wrong? Or to impress him...maybe both? “I wasn’t used to working with my hands.”
    He ignored her hesitation at his touch and took both her hands in his, examined them more closely. “These look painful. Has Lenny been putting her salve on them?”
    “Every morning, though I can’t see it helping much,” she admitted.
    “I guess you weren’t exaggerating when you said you were helping with the chores. Look, I think you need to take tomorrow off and let them heal up. Infection runs rampant out here, and getting the doctor to the ranch is pretty hard at best.”
    She didn’t like the sound of taking a day off. Keeping busy made her feel as if she contributed to the good of her new home. “It was hauling feed to the cattle, and mucking out stalls, and riding so much that tore them up. I think I should be fine doing what I did today, though. Milking hurts but it doesn’t make them worse.”
    The clock ticked and logs snapped in the fireplace as he studied her hands, rubbed her scars with his thumbs. Then he nodded and released them. “Keep them wrapped though?”
    “Sure.”
    “And we need to put Lenny’s salve on them before you go to bed tonight. It’s probably rubbing off as soon as you start doing work with your hands during the day.”
    From the cupboard where Lenny stored her medicinals, she pulled the jar of greenish brown, gloppy odorous salve. She had no idea what was in it and was honestly afraid to ask. It looked like pig shite but smelled herbal, so Lenny probably wasn’t actually slathering feces on her hands following breakfast every morning.
    Garret took the jar from her, surprising her, took the clean linen strips from the same cupboard and sat down in front of her. After a few minutes of diligent and confident work by him, her hands were soothed and wrapped. Afterward, as he stood, he squeezed her shoulder gently, bewildering her, and readied a fire. He was still damp from a day in the rain and though Texas summers were hot, letting the chill take one on a wet night was never a good idea.
    Unable to do any sewing with her wrapped hands, she went back to reading the well-worn copy of Oliver Twist she’d started that afternoon by the fire. As on the night before, she felt Garret’s occasional glance in her