wisps of raven hair escaping from her low chignon to curl against her delicate nape. The pale blue dress sleeked over her curves like a glove, outlining slender shoulders and a slim waist that Gideon itched to span with his hands.
“Miss Ivy?”
“Yes?” She glanced over her shoulder, her movements measured and graceful as she turned sliced apples in one skillet while stirring a deep pot of something with the other.
How long was her hair? he wondered. The silky mass had to reach at least to the middle of her back.
When he didn’t speak, she prompted, “Mr. Black?”
He recalled why he’d come inside. “The stage is coming. I’ll wash up then help with whatever you need.”
She nodded, using the edges of her neat white apron to move the pans off the heat to the back of the stove. Taking the tin of soap from the shelf above the dry sink, she walked toward him. Her face was flushed from the stove heat, her eyes dark and sparkling.
His gaze slid briefly to the rise and fall of her breasts. He took the soap, turning to go until she edged into the doorway with him. “Conrad thought he would have passengers today.”
Gideon pushed his hat up with the back of his wrist, staring at the approaching coach. “Looks like at least one trunk or valise strapped to the top.”
As the stage drew nearer, he could see a man seated inside, as well as a woman with a pink bonnet. “You need me to fetch anything?”
“Not yet.”
He took a couple of steps then paused. “I’m going to send everyone inside as soon as they stop. I want to check Conrad’s footprints.”
“Against the ones you found in the woods?”
“Yes. I don’t believe they’ll match, but I want to make sure.”
“All right.” She moved out to stand beside him on the porch.
Beneath the aroma of stewing apples and cinnamon, he drew in her soft magnolia fragrance. His body went tight the way it had last night. Careful not to touch her—which was damn difficult seeing how close she stood—he slid the soap tin into his back pocket and went out to help with the horses and passengers.
“Whoop, Ivy!” Conrad called from his high seat.
She waved then smoothed her hair back. Gideon strode out the gate and met the stage as the driver braked near the trough and newly greased pump.
He held the harness between the two lead bays as Conrad clambered down and opened the door, placing a mounting box beneath it so the passengers could disembark.
A man with a jaunty straw hat atop thick gray hair gripped the door frame and stepped down.
“How do,” he said pleasantly to Gideon before turning and offering a hand to the woman wearing a pink bonnet. And a pink dress and pink gloves.
When the couple moved to the side, Gideon blinked. Neither of the pair stood even as tall as Ivy! He’d never seen such diminutive people, especially a man.
The woman, her dark hair streaked with gray, walked over to Gideon. Hazel eyes sparkled. “Hello.”
“Ma’am.”
Ivy glided down the steps. “Welcome. There’s a hot meal waiting.”
“That sounds wonderful, my dear.” The man drew his companion forward. “Albert and Maude Hargrove, at your service.”
“Ivy Powell,” she said with a smile that flashed a dimple. “Nice to meet you. And this is Gideon.”
The men shook hands.
A man wearing a bowler hat poked his head out then stepped down. His three-piece suit looked hotter than hell. He stood just under six feet and was shaped like a barrel.
He came forward and extended a hand to Ivy. “Porter Nichols. Nice to meet you. Conrad says your food is the best in the Territory.”
“I hope you think so after you’ve eaten.”
As the passengers made their way through the gate, Conrad tossed Gideon an imperious look. “Take care of my team, would ya?”
Ivy frowned and started to speak. Gideon shook his head. Better to get Conrad in the house now so Gideon could examine the man’s prints before they became mixed with everyone else’s.
“Change the
“Miss Ivy?”
“Yes?” She glanced over her shoulder, her movements measured and graceful as she turned sliced apples in one skillet while stirring a deep pot of something with the other.
How long was her hair? he wondered. The silky mass had to reach at least to the middle of her back.
When he didn’t speak, she prompted, “Mr. Black?”
He recalled why he’d come inside. “The stage is coming. I’ll wash up then help with whatever you need.”
She nodded, using the edges of her neat white apron to move the pans off the heat to the back of the stove. Taking the tin of soap from the shelf above the dry sink, she walked toward him. Her face was flushed from the stove heat, her eyes dark and sparkling.
His gaze slid briefly to the rise and fall of her breasts. He took the soap, turning to go until she edged into the doorway with him. “Conrad thought he would have passengers today.”
Gideon pushed his hat up with the back of his wrist, staring at the approaching coach. “Looks like at least one trunk or valise strapped to the top.”
As the stage drew nearer, he could see a man seated inside, as well as a woman with a pink bonnet. “You need me to fetch anything?”
“Not yet.”
He took a couple of steps then paused. “I’m going to send everyone inside as soon as they stop. I want to check Conrad’s footprints.”
“Against the ones you found in the woods?”
“Yes. I don’t believe they’ll match, but I want to make sure.”
“All right.” She moved out to stand beside him on the porch.
Beneath the aroma of stewing apples and cinnamon, he drew in her soft magnolia fragrance. His body went tight the way it had last night. Careful not to touch her—which was damn difficult seeing how close she stood—he slid the soap tin into his back pocket and went out to help with the horses and passengers.
“Whoop, Ivy!” Conrad called from his high seat.
She waved then smoothed her hair back. Gideon strode out the gate and met the stage as the driver braked near the trough and newly greased pump.
He held the harness between the two lead bays as Conrad clambered down and opened the door, placing a mounting box beneath it so the passengers could disembark.
A man with a jaunty straw hat atop thick gray hair gripped the door frame and stepped down.
“How do,” he said pleasantly to Gideon before turning and offering a hand to the woman wearing a pink bonnet. And a pink dress and pink gloves.
When the couple moved to the side, Gideon blinked. Neither of the pair stood even as tall as Ivy! He’d never seen such diminutive people, especially a man.
The woman, her dark hair streaked with gray, walked over to Gideon. Hazel eyes sparkled. “Hello.”
“Ma’am.”
Ivy glided down the steps. “Welcome. There’s a hot meal waiting.”
“That sounds wonderful, my dear.” The man drew his companion forward. “Albert and Maude Hargrove, at your service.”
“Ivy Powell,” she said with a smile that flashed a dimple. “Nice to meet you. And this is Gideon.”
The men shook hands.
A man wearing a bowler hat poked his head out then stepped down. His three-piece suit looked hotter than hell. He stood just under six feet and was shaped like a barrel.
He came forward and extended a hand to Ivy. “Porter Nichols. Nice to meet you. Conrad says your food is the best in the Territory.”
“I hope you think so after you’ve eaten.”
As the passengers made their way through the gate, Conrad tossed Gideon an imperious look. “Take care of my team, would ya?”
Ivy frowned and started to speak. Gideon shook his head. Better to get Conrad in the house now so Gideon could examine the man’s prints before they became mixed with everyone else’s.
“Change the
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