Restless Heart Read online

  He took a deep breath and thought about something else as he readied the machine to begin printing again. That something else was inevitably Angeline Hunter.

  It had been six months since she’d arrived in Forestville, and a day hadn’t gone by that he hadn’t thought about her. She was exquisite to look at, in face and form. He’d never had that kind of reaction to a woman before, no matter how beautiful they’d been. No, there was something else, some kind of instant connection.

  Unfortunately, she hardly even knew he existed. At least she hadn’t until he had impulsively given the boy Dennis a book to give her. Now she probably thought Sam was odd. However, he’d seen her sitting on the back steps of the restaurant reading a book in the late day’s light. The halo of the sunset had surrounded her and made her ethereal in his eyes.

  Sam had been struck by what he could only term infatuation. She had already made an impression on him, but the sight of her reading had brought his fascination to a different level.

  Now, he thought of her every day with an almost embarrassing frequency. Sam wasn’t given to flights of fancy or poetic rambling, but there was something about the woman that called to him at an elemental level. He’d given the book to her on impulse. It had cost him quite a bit of money—money, he could hardly afford. Now, he wasn’t sure yet if he regretted the impulse.

  Sam loaded more paper into the printing press and started it running again. This time, thanks to whatever forces were at work, the press did not jam again. It hummed along as if it wasn’t the most confounded machine on the planet.

  He sat down at the old scarred desk in the corner with a sigh. The desk was something his father had found abandoned by a wagon train heading to Oregon twenty years earlier. The rolltop had long since stopped functioning. the desk was still solid though and served its intended purpose, even if it was as ugly as the printing press.

  Life in Forestville was somewhat boring, truth be told, and most of his father’s stories on the one-page sheet related to happenings outside of town. Information he received from other sources was infinitely more interesting.

  Sam sometimes wondered why he stayed there, what kept him in the small town, or even what had brought him back there after the war. He found it hard to understand himself, much less articulate his reasoning to someone else.

  Life was predictable in Forestville, and it had been that sameness he’d craved. After witnessing the evil that men do, the sweetness of his hometown was a salve to his wounded soul. And now, there was Angeline.

  He needed to get to work on his next job repairing a fence at the Widow Primrose’s house, but his mind kept wandering to the restaurant. Sam was not given to flights of fancy. Perhaps if he spoke to her, it might help tamp down some of his distractedness. Of course, that meant any fantasies he’d built up around her would be put to the test. She might be completely different than he imagined, and he did quite a bit of that.

  Sam stared down his ink-stained hands, at the scars and calluses. He might not be a gentleman or provide anything aside from conversation, but she might like him. What did he have to lose? It was noontime, so he decided he would have dinner at the Blue Plate.

  Decision made, whether or not it was the smartest one had yet to be determined, Sam rose from the desk and headed outside to wash his hands. He could at least try to get the ink off his skin.

  He hoped she liked the book.

  Angeline was off-center and jittery. She dropped a plate, put too much salt in the meat, and forgot to put vegetables on no less than two orders. Marta kept looking at her as if she were a stranger, and Karen had completely lost patience with her.

  “You need to stop this right now.” Lettie frowned at her. “You’re calling attention to yourself.”

  Angeline looked up at her friend, the only person in the world who would ever know what she’d gone through. “I can’t help it.”

  “Yes, you can. Nothing has happened in Forestville, but that doesn’t mean it won’t. If you keep this up, you won’t have a job for long. No man is worth giving up what you’ve fought tooth and nail for.” Lettie’s brown gaze was steady, familiar. With a nod, she went back out into the restaurant with two plates to serve, leaving Angeline with her thoughts.

  Lettie’s words helped Angeline come down from the ledge she’d been teetering on. She’d never had an admirer from afar, and since she’d left Tolson, Utah, she had never felt safe. Ever. Just because they hadn’t seen anyone following them didn’t mean no one had.

  Realistically, she understood this Samuel Carver was someone who had lived in town all his life. He was harmless, according to everyone who worked at the Blue Plate, even Pieter. Yet, she was still unaccountably nervous about the entire affair.

  Angeline would give the book back to him at the earliest opportunity. It wouldn’t be right to keep it, especially considering how nervous it made her. She had rarely received gifts in her life; she could count them on one hand. They had all been from her sister, given in secret since her father hadn’t believed in gifts.

  “Don’t forget to slice the bread.” Marta set a ham slice on a plate. Her reminder was surprising since Angeline rarely forgot to do anything, much less her job.

  With an embarrassed smile, Angeline sliced the next loaf of bread quickly, placing two steaming pieces on the plate. She added carrots just in time for Alice to come in with a big smile on her face.

  “Your beau is here.”

  Angeline stopped in mid-motion. “Excuse me?”

  “Your beau is here. Samuel Carver is here for dinner, and I would swear he’s spiffed up for it.” Alice grinned widely. “He’s ordered the ham and potatoes, with apple pie. Do you want to serve him?”

  “No, I do not.” Angeline felt her nervousness return and silently cursed Alice for her silly enthusiasm.

  “Oh, why not? He asked for you.” She waggled her eyebrows. “He might not be rich, but he sure is sweet.” With a cheeky grin she took the plate and left the kitchen.

  “You might as well talk to him. Don’t listen to Alice prattle on about him being a half-breed. He’s a good boy no matter who his mother was.” Marta put ham on another plate, this time it was for Samuel Carver. “If you hide in here, it will make it worse.”

  Angeline knew she was right. The longer she hemmed and hawed about the gift and the man, the worse it would be. He wasn’t an outside threat to her, nonetheless, she needed to tell him there was no future between them.

  With a firm spine, she put potatoes on the plate to accompany the ham and nodded to Marta. “I’ll be right back.”

  Angeline stepped into the restaurant and looked around. There were a number of people at tables, but she had no idea what the man looked like. Alice’s silly descriptions meant nothing except that he was a man. As if she’d conjured her, Alice appeared next to a man sitting in front of the bay window. She pointed and winked at Angeline.

  Now, she really was uncomfortable because Alice had no tact or consideration for other people. The man looked up and saw Angeline standing there.

  The ground shifted beneath her.

  His hair was the color of midnight, so dark it was nearly blue-black. It hung straight to his shoulders, too long to be fashionable. The ends curled up slightly as if a breeze had come through and ruffled it. His shoulders were wide, but not overly so.

  He had an intense stare that made goosebumps crawl up her skin. His eyes were also darker than pitch, black pools that seemed to be bottomless. To her surprise, his skin was lightly tanned with wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. He had the demeanor of a man who had seen too much in his short life.

  The bright blue of his shirt contrasted so much with the rest of him, she had to blink to absorb it all. He was a striking man, not classically handsome but fascinating.

  Angeline did not remember seeing him before, which wasn’t surprising because she worked in the kitchen most days. However, she also hadn’t seen him in town either, again not surprising, since she hardly left the restaurant.
r />   She managed to swallow, somehow, before she stepped toward his table with her heart firmly lodged in her throat. He watched her with wide eyes, unsmiling and unthreatening. She couldn’t have explained it to anyone, but Marta had been right—Samuel Carver was no threat to her.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Hunter.” His voice had a lilt to it, one she’d never heard before. It was like warm honey on a piece of toast.

  Angeline’s breath caught and it took a moment for her to find her voice. “Good afternoon, Mr. Carver.” At least, she set the plate down on the table without dropping it.

  He smiled. “I hope you enjoy the book.”

  She licked her lips and managed a small smile. “I’ve never had a new book before. I wanted to say thank you, but it’s much too extravagant for me to accept.”

  There, that sounded reasonable and intelligent.

  He, however, shook his head. “I can’t accept it back.”

  “Please, it must have cost you too much money.” She put her hands in her apron pockets and clenched them into fists. Her right hand pressed up against the book. “It’s not appropriate for me to accept it.”

  He hadn’t even glanced at the plate; his gaze locked on hers. “I know it was forward of me, but I saw you reading on the back steps one day. You seemed to be at peace with a book in your hands.”

  Angeline unwillingly nodded. “Yes, that’s exactly how I feel. It’s almost as if the books give me peace.”

  This time when he smiled, she found herself smiling back. The situation had gotten complicated in less than five minutes.

  “I feel the same way about books.” His voice had softened, perhaps was a little wistful. He was more than what people saw. “So, please accept the gift from a fellow reader, nothing more.”

  She was torn between what she had to do and what she wanted to do. Angeline could not become attached or involved with any man, regardless of her silly heart’s reaction to him. It didn’t make it any easier to conjure up every other reason why she needed to keep her distance from him.

  Angeline wanted to sit down and talk to him. Horrified by her reaction to this stranger, this man who seemed to be able to see into the depths of her soul, she backed away. “I have to go back to the kitchen and work.”

  “Of course. It was wonderful to meet you.” This time he looked hesitant, almost as if he was shy.

  Angeline knew she could not possibly accept the book, but it remained firmly in her apron pocket as she stepped back toward the kitchen. She felt his stare as she retreated and knew he watched her from the table by the window.

  Her heart skipped a beat.

  Chapter Two

  ‡

  Angeline sat in the corner of her bed staring at the book. The morning chill hung in the air as the lamp lit the room in warm shadows. She caressed the spine and cover, ashamed of her enchantment with it but thrilled to have it in her hands.

  She hadn’t yet opened it, afraid if she cracked the spine, Samuel could not sell the book back to whomever he’d bought it from. Angeline couldn’t keep it, she knew that, but she pretended for a little while that she could. It was an extravagant gift, meant for a woman who could give a man what he looked for. She was not that woman and would never be her.

  Samuel was not what she’d expected. He was handsome, mesmerizing with his dark hair and eyes. Yet her attraction to him was much more than that. She felt as though she already knew him. That’s what scared her the most—she could not be with him, yet now that she’d met him, she was drawn to him. In fact, she’d dreamed of him the night before.

  She could only remember fragments of the dream, but when she thought of Samuel, she felt warm inside. Surprisingly, she hoped he would be there for breakfast so she could see him again. Perhaps she’d built up a fantasy about him that couldn’t possibly exist. Or perhaps she’d find that he was even more than she’d imagined.

  Angeline brought the book to her face and inhaled. The sharp scent tickled her nose, tempted her to open it, to indulge in the pleasure of reading it. She closed her eyes and breathed in again, her fingers tightening on the cover.

  If only she could keep it.

  With a sigh, she set the book on the bed and rose to her feet. It was time to go to work. The sun was nearly up, which meant she was already late getting the biscuits made.

  As she walked out the door, she looked back at the book lying on the bed so innocently. She stepped back in the room and tucked the book into her apron pocket. Angeline should have handed it back to Samuel the day before, or at least dropped it by his house in the afternoon.

  All she could do now was wonder why she hadn’t. Or perhaps why she wouldn’t.

  Samuel woke abruptly covered in sweat and breathing as if he’d run from one end of town to the other. After taking deep gulps of air to chase away the shadows riding his back, he took a sip from the glass of water on the stand next to the bed. He’d discovered soon after returning home from the war if he didn’t pour the water in the glass before bed, his hands shook too much to do it after he woke.

  The room was awash in the gray light of dawn, cold enough he could almost see his breath. The sweat, strangely enough, was the one thing keeping him warm. He needed to get up and stoke up the fire, but he couldn’t yet because of his leg. The muscles were constantly sore, but now, he was in pain—and a great deal of it.

  After a few minutes of vigorous rubbing, the pain receded enough that he could finally get up. Sam rose and walked to the window. He pressed his forehead against the cold glass, the frigid coolness helped a little.

  Something had happened in his dream. He couldn’t quite remember what, but he knew it had to do with Angeline. She had been in danger, and he was desperate to help her. They’d only exchanged a couple dozen words, and now, he was dreaming about her?

  What the hell was that all about?

  Sam was afraid he was getting obsessed with the blond. Jesus, he’d bought her a gift before he’d even heard her speak a word. How loco was that? His fellow soldiers would have teased him mercilessly about being a lovesick fool.

  They might have been not too far off the mark either.

  He managed to shake off the uneasy feeling that plagued him from the dream but just barely. She had secrets behind her blue eyes, deep ones he craved to know more about, even if he wouldn’t admit it to anyone else. For six months, she’d lived and worked at the restaurant, rebuffing every man in town who’d tried to court her.

  Sam didn’t want to court her; he just wanted to stop being obsessed with her. It was causing him to lose sleep, spend plenty of time pleasuring himself, and countless minutes wondering what she was doing, thinking, planning. He was a fool, and he knew it.

  She hardly knew he existed.

  None of it changed his mind though. He craved her presence like the earth craved the rain. She was mysterious, alluring, and he was attracted to her like he’d never been to anyone before. Perhaps if he kissed her, it would break the spell she seemed to have woven around him without even trying.

  Ha! Probably make him want to do more than kiss her, as evidenced by the enormous stick of wood in his drawers. Sam squeezed the base of his dick rhythmically until the hard-on finally let its talons loose. He let out a big sigh and tried to shake off the strangeness of the morning.

  Sam cleaned up and dressed, telling himself he was hungry for breakfast and not hungry for Angeline.

  Oh, how he lied.

  The morning air was a light caress on his face as he walked toward the Blue Plate. A low mist hovered over the ground as he strode through town. The sun peeked over the horizon, not yet fully up enough to burn off the chill in the air. Spring was rearing its head, finally, judging by the fact the dew had not frozen.

  If spring was just around the corner, it meant he would get more work, and maybe, his father could sell the newspaper business. He was having more bad days than good, and Sam knew it was only a matter of time before his father would have to be watched constantly. For that, Sam needed money. Al
l of that meant he’d have less funds to spend at the restaurant, not to mention less time.

  When he arrived at the Blue Plate, instead of heading inside to eat, he found himself walking around to the back. To where he’d first seen Angeline reading on the steps back in October. A lifetime ago, it seemed. He didn’t know what compelled him to walk back there, but when he did, he found Angeline without a coat putting wood from the pile into a bucket.

  “Angel, what are you doing? You’ll freeze to death.” He took the bucket from her as she stared at him, her nose red from the cold.

  His arm brushed her breast, earning a surprised yelp from her and an instant hard-on from him. Her scent washed over him, feeding his arousal, making him nearly careen out of control.

  He leaned toward her, the bucket dropped, the coolness of the air a distant memory. She licked her lips, the nip in the air making them a darker pink. Sam moved as if in a daze, his body buzzing with only one thought.

  Kissing Angeline.

  His blood thrummed through his body, and he swore the air between them crackled as he came within an inch of being pressed up against her. She sucked in a short breath, her blue gaze as wide as the sky above.

  Against his will, with his mind screaming for him to stop, Sam leaned forward and kissed her. Oh God, her lips were softer than anything he’d ever felt in his life. She tasted of coffee, of woman, of an angel’s sweetness. He brushed her lips again, their breaths mingling in the cold air in a small poof of whiteness.

  Sam forced himself to step back; this time it was his body howling in agony. This time it was his dick hammering against the buttons that held it back.

  What the hell had he just done?

  Angeline shivered and licked her lips again. “What did you call me?”

  Sam stopped, completely flummoxed by her question. He expected her to slap him, kick him in the balls, or at least turn and leave him standing there like the idiot he was. “I don’t know. What did I call you?”