WESTERN ROMANCE: A Settler’s Wife’s Dreams (Contemporary Westerns Historical Romance, Cowboy Romance) Read Online Free PDF Page B
Author: Melodie Grace
could get to them without breaking their necks tripping on a broken board.
She walked into a furniture store. Polished chairs glimmered in the light streaming through the windows, along with tables, bed frames, benches, and all other manner of woodwork. From the looks of it the furniture was being made in the back of the place.
All of the wood work bore a uniformity only achieved by skilled hands working lathe, saw and sand paper over the raw wood itself, followed by several coats of some kind of high gloss sealant. Lisa didn't know a great deal about the creation of furniture, but she did have a good idea as to the basics of wood working - enough of an idea to know that whoever was working wood here knew what they were doing and did it well.
“Oh my, my, my,” Lisa said.
She ran her hand over the arch of a chair's back as she admired it. Frank had made all of the chairs in their log cabin when he'd built it. He was competent enough when it came to woodworking—the chairs had never failed to support his or her weight—but he didn't have the style or flair of a professional. Lisa would have died to be able sit in the chairs in front of her now. She would have loved to bring food off the stove and set it on one of the tables that shone like glass, or to be able to prop her feet up on one of the comfortable looking stools after helping Frank around the fields. She knew that Frank wanted to make a bigger bed for them at some point, but time was hard enough to find, not to mention the lumber.
“Well hello, madam,” a voice said from the back of the store.
A tall man with dark hair and eyes walked toward her while he wiped his hands with a rag. From the look of black oil on his fingers he'd been in the back room staining some new additions to his stores inventory. The man's hands were strong and well muscled, bearing heavy calluses. His chest was broad and the shirt he wore hung unbuttoned, opened down to the middle. Sweat trickled down his brow, and he wiped it again and again while he made his way toward her.
“Hello,” Lisa said, her voice almost catching in her throat.
“What can I do for you today?” the man asked.
“What is your name?” Lisa said. Immediately she blushed a deep red. It wasn't because she’d asked his name; it was how she asked it. She sounded like a young girl at a school dance wondering the name of a pretty boy who had just walked in the room. From the way the man hands slowed down their efforts to wipe the stain from themselves, it was apparent the man had noticed it as well.
God damn it, Lisa thought, way to make yourself look like a country bumpkin.
Lisa glanced down at her own clothes and realized that it was obvious she had come in to town from a nearby homestead.
“You look famished,” the man said. He extended his hand. “My name is Ted. It's a pleasure to meet you.”
Lisa took his hand and squeezed it.
“Ted, it is so nice to meet you. Your wooden creations speak much to your work ethic and character.”
“Well thank you, Lisa,” Ted said. He glanced at the clock above the door then back at Lisa. “You know, I see the dust on your boots and it occurs to me that you just road into town and you looked simply famished. Why don't I close for lunch and we head up top for lunch?”
“Up top?” Lisa said, hesitantly.
“Oh, my, well yes you wouldn't know, would you?” Ted said with a smile. “On top of this building I've set up a table, chairs, an umbrella of sorts to keep the sun off and a music player. Just a little bit ago I set out some rather hot soup to cool as well as some sandwiches to warm in the sun. I'd love for you to join me!”
“I don't know,” Lisa said.
She didn't know why she was having such trouble thinking around this man. Her breath was come more difficult than it had before she'd seen him. Scared to open her mouth in fear of something silly coming out of it she had to really put effort into forming words and sentences.
It had been a long
She walked into a furniture store. Polished chairs glimmered in the light streaming through the windows, along with tables, bed frames, benches, and all other manner of woodwork. From the looks of it the furniture was being made in the back of the place.
All of the wood work bore a uniformity only achieved by skilled hands working lathe, saw and sand paper over the raw wood itself, followed by several coats of some kind of high gloss sealant. Lisa didn't know a great deal about the creation of furniture, but she did have a good idea as to the basics of wood working - enough of an idea to know that whoever was working wood here knew what they were doing and did it well.
“Oh my, my, my,” Lisa said.
She ran her hand over the arch of a chair's back as she admired it. Frank had made all of the chairs in their log cabin when he'd built it. He was competent enough when it came to woodworking—the chairs had never failed to support his or her weight—but he didn't have the style or flair of a professional. Lisa would have died to be able sit in the chairs in front of her now. She would have loved to bring food off the stove and set it on one of the tables that shone like glass, or to be able to prop her feet up on one of the comfortable looking stools after helping Frank around the fields. She knew that Frank wanted to make a bigger bed for them at some point, but time was hard enough to find, not to mention the lumber.
“Well hello, madam,” a voice said from the back of the store.
A tall man with dark hair and eyes walked toward her while he wiped his hands with a rag. From the look of black oil on his fingers he'd been in the back room staining some new additions to his stores inventory. The man's hands were strong and well muscled, bearing heavy calluses. His chest was broad and the shirt he wore hung unbuttoned, opened down to the middle. Sweat trickled down his brow, and he wiped it again and again while he made his way toward her.
“Hello,” Lisa said, her voice almost catching in her throat.
“What can I do for you today?” the man asked.
“What is your name?” Lisa said. Immediately she blushed a deep red. It wasn't because she’d asked his name; it was how she asked it. She sounded like a young girl at a school dance wondering the name of a pretty boy who had just walked in the room. From the way the man hands slowed down their efforts to wipe the stain from themselves, it was apparent the man had noticed it as well.
God damn it, Lisa thought, way to make yourself look like a country bumpkin.
Lisa glanced down at her own clothes and realized that it was obvious she had come in to town from a nearby homestead.
“You look famished,” the man said. He extended his hand. “My name is Ted. It's a pleasure to meet you.”
Lisa took his hand and squeezed it.
“Ted, it is so nice to meet you. Your wooden creations speak much to your work ethic and character.”
“Well thank you, Lisa,” Ted said. He glanced at the clock above the door then back at Lisa. “You know, I see the dust on your boots and it occurs to me that you just road into town and you looked simply famished. Why don't I close for lunch and we head up top for lunch?”
“Up top?” Lisa said, hesitantly.
“Oh, my, well yes you wouldn't know, would you?” Ted said with a smile. “On top of this building I've set up a table, chairs, an umbrella of sorts to keep the sun off and a music player. Just a little bit ago I set out some rather hot soup to cool as well as some sandwiches to warm in the sun. I'd love for you to join me!”
“I don't know,” Lisa said.
She didn't know why she was having such trouble thinking around this man. Her breath was come more difficult than it had before she'd seen him. Scared to open her mouth in fear of something silly coming out of it she had to really put effort into forming words and sentences.
It had been a long
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