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She knew she didn’t have a hip-swaying walk that men kept on about.
She had never once dropped her drawers for a man. Never would either, unless…well, she would never be so stupid as to thwart the course of true love.
“You’re not from around here.” That was the trouble with small towns, thought Phoebe, everybody knew everybody
“It was her dreaming room. It was where she went to get away from Daddy.” Phoebe had to ask. “Did she tell you that?”
“When you’re not leading with your chin and barking orders, you look nice.”
But looks don’t count for everything.” Phoebe was electrified. “You think that, too?” “I know from experience.” “Me, too, brains is where it’s at. Brains and a strong back. I got both.” “Brains, a strong back, and maybe a bit of cunning, you mean.”
Phoebe turned pale. “You like callin’ people names, don’t you?” “I got a good name for anybody who wakes me up as rudely as you just did.”
why Ma sometimes got riled at Pa over the silliest of things. A body had to have a go at what was unimportant, because she couldn’t always speak of innermost feelings. Maybe a body never could talk secrets to a man. Phoebe didn’t like the idea of secrets.
When she got herself a man—and she meant to have the one that owned this house—she aimed only to serve up truth.
“A smart man, which you ain’t, would keep his eye on Phoebe Hawley, ‘cause I’m goin’ to be somebody. I’m goin’ to be a woman in business for herself. With a fat purse.”
She sashayed toward the door, arms swinging and hips swaying. “You can twitch your fanny all you want,” he called in loud hectoring sarcasm. “It won’t change my mind about you.”
Mostly work was the only thing that could make time pass, keep a body’s mind off more worrisome things.
Gage jerked. “Nothing. You got anything to stare at?” “Seems like I do. Your eyes are about to bug out.” “Hellfire.” “You like cussing at me, don’t you?”
his thigh rubbed hers. The strings that were her nerves zinged as if they were priming for a symphony.
She was parading around the house with a book on her head. “Phoebe, has my posture improved?” “Books are for the inside of your head, not the outside.”
Can I ask you a personal question?” “You’re going to ask it whether I permit it or not.” “Are you constipated? Bein’ stopped up can cause a body to be in fearful moods.
Can I get under the covers?” “No.” “I’m taking off my nightgown.” “Don’t do that.”
What is with this woman?
Soon as I can, I’m changing your name to Morgan. Then I won’t have to listen to Hawley pride, Hawley gumption and Hawley grit.”
“Gage, you love me? Truly?” “Tried not to. Had good reason not to. I’ve been battered, abused, and cuckolded. You’d think I’d learned my lesson.”
“You don’t have to be the best, Phoebe. Just belong to me.”
A sharp dart of misery enclosed her heart. Why hadn’t anybody ever told her that pride got in the way of love?
