LITMIR.BIZ

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do you want the desk?” Justice glanced about the room.

      “About two feet from the front window.”

      “You sure?”

      Suddenly annoyed by this uncomfortable meeting, she snapped, “If you don’t approve, put it wherever you think is best.” Shame filled her. She had no reason to be snippy, especially since he was being helpful.

      He huffed out a sigh. “As the winter wears on, it gets mighty cold sitting so close to a window. You’d be better off doing your work closer to the stove.”

      “Oh—”

      “Here.” He took her by the hand. “Step over to the window and feel the glass.”

      His gentle touch sent shivers up her arm and down her back. He didn’t seem to notice her response, but tugged her to the window and placed her hand on the glass. Even through her gloves, she could feel the cold.

      “Oh, my. Not the best place to sit.”

      “Yep.” He dropped her hand as though he realized how tightly he’d been holding it. Or maybe that he’d been holding it at all.

      She decided to rescue them both. “Well, then, I’ll take your advice. Can you move the desk by yourself? Or will you need help?”

      He cast an amused glance her way. Then, with the strength of the biblical Samson, he easily shoved the heavy desk across the wooden floor without so much as taking an extra breath. “This all right?”

      “Fine.” Did her voice actually squeak? Oh, my. Justice might not have required a deep breath after moving the desk, but she needed one after being so close to his imposing presence.

      He gazed down at her for a moment, and she stared up at him, unmoving.

      “Where do you want the tables?” An odd softness flickered in his eyes.

      “Um, well.” She broke the visual contact and stared blindly around the room. “They’re fine.”

      “Fine,” he repeated. Even so, he began to move the tables and chairs into a more sensible configuration. “What do you think?”

      “Fine.” She couldn’t think of a different word. “Thank you.”

      “You’re welcome.” He gave a firm nod before glancing at the door in the back wall. “You want to see the village?”

      “Oh, yes.” How could she be standing here talking with Justice Gareau as though eleven years didn’t stand between this moment and all the good times they’d enjoyed so long ago?

      Justice broke the mood by stepping over to the back door and pulling a key from his pocket. “We have to keep it locked so the youngsters won’t get nosy.”

      “That makes sense.” She followed him into the dark chamber.

      After he lit the kerosene lantern on a table, the room filled with light, revealing a rough but exquisite array of four-by-five-inch buildings. Although unpainted, each had a clear identity. A church, numerous houses, a livery stable and more. He’d carved people, horses, trees, all with remarkable detail.

      “They’re beautiful, Justice.” Again she looked up into his once-beloved face. “You’re truly a gifted wood carver. I know the children will love their little village. I’ll be happy to help in any way you need.”

      His eyes displayed a pleased expression. “I’ve been thinking about it. Could you paint everything?”

      “I’d love to.”

      “Good.” He ushered her toward the door. “I have some rounds to do this morning. I usually work on the village in the afternoon while my deputy is on duty at the office.”

      “Oh. Very well. But first, please sit down and have some coffee.” Other than her sandwich, she had only Susanna’s cookies and some cold coffee to offer, but her Southern manners demanded some form of gratitude for his help.

      He grimaced and huffed out a sigh of obvious resignation. He sat at the table across from her desk.

      They partook of the refreshments in silence until Evangeline’s sense of etiquette took over. One simply did not sit quietly under these circumstances. She considered several topics of conversation. As unwise as it might be, she could think only of one.

      “I’ve often wondered about your Grand Tour. Did you enjoy it?”

      His deeply tanned face turned pale around the edges, and his lips formed a grim line.

      Oh, yes, indeed. That was the wrong question to ask.

      * * *

      Stricken more than he wanted to admit, Justice could only stare at Evangeline, dumbfounded. Why would she ask about an event of so long ago, a trip he could barely remember because of the horrible home situation to which he returned? From the way her dark blond eyelashes fluttered, he could see she regretted asking about it.

      “I’m so sorry.” Her blue eyes filled with tears. “I shouldn’t have—”

      He waved a hand dismissively. “I suppose if we’re going to live in the same community, we should address the past and, well, get past it.”

      She nodded and gave him a wobbly smile. “I suppose.”

      He swiped a hand down one cheek before remembering the informal gesture wasn’t appropriate for a gentleman visiting with a lady. But then, so many of the elegant manners he’d been taught by his gentlemanly father had gone by the wayside as he’d adapted to the less formal West.

      “Paris was beautiful. Rome was educational. Venice was breathtaking. London interesting, especially St. Paul’s Cathedral and Westminster Abbey.” In his own ears, he sounded like an uninspired tour guide, but she nodded politely as he spoke. Manners dictated it was his turn to try a polite inquiry. “Did you go to Europe after your marriage?” Somehow he managed not to choke on the words.

      “N-no.” She looked away, perhaps to hide the odd hurt in her eyes.

      He should press her for details. Should ask why Lucius Benoit hadn’t taken his beautiful young bride abroad to show her off. Instead, he cleared his throat. “I’d better go. I’m late to finish my rounds.” He stood and picked up his hat and jacket.

      “Yes, of course.” She rose gracefully from her chair. “Thank you so much for your help.”

      She reached out to him, and he took her small hand in his larger one. Against all that was sane, he bent to brush a well-mannered kiss across her fingers. A tremor shot from his lips to his neck and down his back. Then he caught a whiff of her expensive gardenia perfume, saw her exquisitely styled widow’s weeds and recalled she’d chosen to become a wealthy man’s wife so she could have a lifetime of such luxuries. The memory cut like a knife through his chest. By the time he straightened, he’d managed to paste on his no-nonsense lawman face.

      “I’ll be back later to work on the village.” He donned his hat and walked toward the door on wooden legs. Despite her betrayal, this woman still had a strong effect on him.

      “Thank you.” She closed the door behind him.

      As he strode toward Main Street, a glance over his shoulder revealed she continued to watch him through one of the front windows. Oddly, it pleased him. He’d have to get over it, and fast.

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