Last Chance Bride. Jillian Hart

The light left his eyes. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

      “It’s all right.” But it wasn’t. As they walked the half block together, she felt his gaze stray to her stomach.

      He held open the door of the diner and smiled as if... Libby tried not to complete that thought. He was just being polite.

      “We’ll have two glasses of lemonade,” Jacob informed the young woman who wandered into sight. “Let’s sit near the window,” he said to Libby.

      Libby sat down while Jacob folded himself into a too small chair. The opened window gave her something to look at besides Jacob.

      “I guess I really just wanted to know how you are doing. If you need anything.” Concern rumbled in his voice.

      And brought tears to her eyes. She blinked hard. “How is Emma doing?”

      “She misses Jane. I haven’t found anyone to replace her yet”

      Would he find someone to replace me? Libby laid the cloth bundle she carried on the clean table. She waited as the young woman placed two ice-filled glasses between them. Fresh, sour-sweet lemonade scented the air.

      “What do you have there?” he asked.

      “Something for Emma. If you will let her have them.” Waiting for his rejection, she unwrapped the small bundle of clothes. Folds of happy calico and gingham peeked out from the soft flannel. Aprons. Bonnets. Dresses. Nightgowns. Shoes.

      “Elizabeth, I don’t think—” He fisted his hands. “Emma will get her hopes up.”

      “Then don’t tell her they are from me. Say you bought them. It’s important to me she has these for her doll.”

      “Why?”

      Libby rubbed the condensation from the glass. “I had planned to finish the clothes before I arrived, but time got the best of me. It isn’t Emma’s fault I didn’t sew them before I arrived.”

      Jacob’s face twisted. “Emma will know they came from you.”

      “I see.” All these pretty things. Libby folded the flannel back over the clothes. “The fabric was already cut and would only go to waste. I couldn’t bear that. I didn’t think it would make you angry.”

      Jacob raised his gaze to hers. “I’m not angry.”

      “Then you’ll give them to her?”

      “Yes.” Jacob reached for the bundle. “Emma will be thrilled with these pretty things.”

      Thank you. Libby’s throat tightened, and she did not say the words. It was enough to know she would make Emma happy.

      “You have a talent.” His gray gaze caught hers. Held.

      Libby longed for his touch. Unable to look away, her heart hammered. “I’m just an ordinary seamstress.”

      “Seems with this skill you could find work in town.”

      “I just started doing piecework for Mr. Ellington. Mostly altering and mending and hemming. It isn’t much, but enough to fill my Sundays.”

      “That’s good.” Jacob wrapped his able fingers around the thick, cold glass and drank deeply.

      She sipped the ice-cold lemonade, too. “My time is up. I don’t want to keep Leah waiting. The hotel has been so busy lately.”

      “Is she treating you right? Kitchen work can’t be easy.”

      She could hear his thoughts. For a pregnant woman like you. Libby looked down. “Leah is a generous boss. I’m lucky to be working for her.”

      A flicker built in her heart—the beginnings of hope. Maybe he would look past her pregnancy. Maybe he wanted to marry her for her—the woman with whom he’d exchanged hopes, stories and words from his heart.

      Libby stood, fishing for coins in her skirt pocket. “Goodbye, Jacob.”

      And it was goodbye.

      “It’s my treat.” His firm voice stilled her hand, and he laid an array of small coins on the table.

      He cared about her. And it hurt more than his hatred.

      “Take care of yourself, Elizabeth.” He stood, his unreadable gaze trapping hers, causing a tingling warmth through every nerve in her body.

      He was never going to kiss her again. Libby turned away, not looking back, fighting the weakness for him in her heart.

      She’d never ached for a man’s touch. She’d never felt this way about anyone.

      Chapter Six

      

      

      “Miss Hodges! Miss Hodges!” The child’s voice rang like a merry bell above the din of the dusty streets.

      Libby turned, her errand forgotten at the sight of Emma Stone, dressed in a white calico dress, trimmed with lace and velvet, racing down the boardwalk, braids flying.

      She glanced around for Jacob and relaxed when she saw he was nowhere near. She wanted to see him; she didn’t want to see him.

      Emma bounced to a noisy halt on the boardwalk, her brown braids slamming against her back. “I saw you and I just had to come over. I like your dress.”

      “And I like yours.”

      Emma’s grin flashed.

      Libby smiled back. “Don’t tell me your pa is letting you run all over town by yourself.”

      “No.” Emma laughed. “I ran away.”

      “From your pa?” Confused, Libby glanced down the street. Shoppers traveled from one shop to another, men hauled freight through the busy town.