A Family For Carter Jones

“No, sir.”

“Is this enough cream, Jennie?” Barnaby interrupted their exchange by stepping between them holding out a bowl of apple crisp.

Jennie gave the boy a grateful smile. What was it about talking with Carter Jones that made the breath stick in her throat? “That’s just perfect, Barnaby. You can begin taking them out to the dining room. Remember to serve the ladies first.”

Barnaby drew himself up proudly and marched toward the door, holding the bowl of crisp like a tournament trophy. Jennie’s smile turned tender. Their little foundling was always so eager to please.

Carter appeared to read her thoughts. “He glows like a lightning bug when you pay him a compliment.”

Jennie nodded. “You should have seen him when he first came here. He was so shy that he could hardly utter a sentence. He used to hang back in the shadows hoping no one would notice him.”

An odd expression flickered across Carter’s face, but after a moment, he smiled and said, “He’s learning fast. He had no problem with shyness the other day when he was barricading the door against me.”

Jennie nodded. “He’s grown very protective of Kate and me. It’s quite touching.”

Carter tipped his head in the direction of the dining room. “You seem to have a room full of protectors out there.”

Jennie laughed. “I guess we do. The miners are great. They even helped with the dinner tonight.”

Carter leaned back against the kitchen counter and surveyed her. She presented quite a different picture than the harried young woman with dough sticking to her neck he’d encountered before dinner. Her hair was back up in a proper chignon and she was wearing some kind of bustled blue silk thing that sculpted her slender silhouette as if she’d spent the entire afternoon being pinned and stitched by a seamstress.

Carter reckoned that nine men out of ten would pick either of the two blondes in the next room over Jennie Sheridan. Kate was a sleek beauty and Dorie a vivacious charmer. But there was something about Jennie. Half the time she was acting stubborn and prickly, daring the rest of the world to say something bad about her baby sister. But then she had those moments of looking like a child who had lost every anchor she’d ever had in life. And somewhere in between both those Jennies was a glimmer of the woman she refused to admit to being, a woman whose passions might fit the sensual promise of that sculpted, low-necked dress.

Suddenly he realized he’d been staring for too long. And that Jennie was staring right back. Barnaby had whisked past them three times now, carrying the bowls of dessert one at a time into the dining room. He cleared his throat. “So he was lucky to find you,” he said.

Jennie looked confused and blinked her unfocused eyes. “Who?”

Carter smiled gently. There was definitely a woman inside there waiting to find her way out. He wouldn’t mind being the one to help make it happen. “Barnaby. He was lucky to find this place to live with you and your sister.”

Jennie swallowed hard and said, “Well, we were lucky to have him. He’s been a tremendous help.” She reached out and gave Barnaby’s shoulder a pat as he passed by with another bowl. Then she and Carter lapsed into silence as they watched the boy swing through the door. Neither one was thinking about Barnaby.

“Goodness,” Jennie said suddenly. “The coffee!”

She was slightly flushed, and just at the side of her slender neck in the precise spot where the dough had stuck earlier, Carter could see her pulse beating. “Relax,” he said, in a voice that was lower and more intimate than any he had yet used with her. “There’s no hurry. Everyone’s having a good time. Including me.”

He leaned over and brushed a kiss on her mouth, then backed away almost before Jennie could realize what he had done. He waited for a protest, but she simply stood and looked up at him, her eyes grown wide. Finally he flashed a smile and turned to cross the room to the sink. “All right,” he said briskly. “Put me to work.”

* * *

All the parlor lamps were lit, the wicks turned up full, but it seemed to Jennie as if a kind of haze hung over the room. She was feeling much the same kind of fog she’d felt after her parents’ deaths, though without the pain. She’d worked hard all day and knew that she was nearly giddy with exhaustion as they’d sat down to eat. But this was something else. It had started when Carter had followed her into the kitchen. As soon as the door had swung shut, closing them off from the other guests, her heart had begun to accelerate. When he’d touched her with his lips, it had settled into a fast staccato that was still drumming away inside her chest.