A Promise of Roses Read Online Free PDF Page B

good-size blaze going. He shoved two Y-shaped sticks into the earth and rested the long, straight one with the skinned rabbit skewered on it across the top.
    Megan kept her eyes averted, still feeling guilty for nosing around in his belongings. Lucas's past was none of her business. She didn't even care. The fact that he'd been married and had a child didn't bother her in the least. Why should it?
    "Is Chad your son?"
    Lucas gritted his teeth so tightly, Megan imagined she could hear them grinding. Long seconds passed, and she decided he didn't intend to answer.
    "He's a very cute little boy.” Shut up, Megan! her mind screamed. Why in God's name do you want to know so much? This man is a criminal. He robbed your stage, kidnapped you, dropped you on your bottom in the dirt, and you're asking about his family as if you're old friends.
    "I'm sorry. I don't mean to pry.” Lord, she'd said that already. And here she was with chisel and hammer, pounding away at his tough outer shell, trying to peek inside.
    He remained silent.
    "I wasn't snooping. I really thought the matches would be in your saddlebags."
    "I carry them with me,” he said, keeping his eyes on the flames that licked at the meat.
    "Here,” Megan said, handing his match case back to him. “That's a very good idea. Keeping them in that oiled leather pouch and then putting them in the metal box."
    "They stay dry that way."
    Megan swallowed and rearranged her legs, searching for a comfortable position. “I really am sorry,” she said again.
    No answer.
    "Damn it, I said I was sorry.” Her last shred of patience snapped and sizzled like the rabbit's juices dripping into the fire. “I'm sorry I started digging in your saddlebags. I'm sorry I found the picture. I'm sorry I was curious enough to look at it. I'm sorry your wife died. I'm sorry you can't stay home and spend more time with your son. I'm sorry you can't find a decent job and have to rob stages for a living. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Now would you please say it's okay and accept my apology?"
    A minute of tortured silence passed. Megan wanted to rip the hair right out other head. Damn his stubborn hide, she wasn't going to apologize again. Eating too much crow gave her a rash. Megan scratched a spot on her elbow as if emphasizing the thought.
    "My son is dead, too."
    Her fingers stilled. “Oh, God. I'm sorry,” she said, breaking her most recent vow. She buried her face in her hands. “I've made a terrible mess of things, haven't I?"
    Lucas chuckled, and Megan lifted her head, sure she'd imagined the sound. But the smile on his lips was real. And devastatingly charming.
    "Why do you say that?” he asked.
    Megan struggled to remember what she had said. “I had no right to touch your things. Your past is your business. It's personal. I never should have asked about it."
    "No, you shouldn't have. Have you ever lost anyone you loved, Miss Adams?"
    "Don't call me that,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “It makes me feel old. Call me Megan."
    "All right. Have you ever lost anyone you loved, Megan?"
    "Yes."
    "Who?"
    Now look who's prying , she thought. Well, she supposed it was only fair after the Gatling-gun questions she'd thrown at him. “My father,” she answered.
    "When did he die?"
    "Two years ago."
    "How?"
    "The doctor said his heart gave out on him."
    "And how did you feel when he died?"
    She squirmed. “It was his time to go, I guess."
    "That's not what I asked, Megan. How did you feel?"
    "Sad."
    "Do you miss him?"
    "Of course I miss him,” she said, tears clouding her eyes.
    "It's lonely when someone leaves you, isn't it? It's not like when friends marry or move away, because you know they're still there, no matter how far they go. When someone you love dies, it's a hundred times worse, because they're never coming back."
    Megan sniffed, holding back the tears that threatened to fall. She hadn't cried since the day of her father's funeral. It seemed pointless; tears never solved