She lifted a brow. “So you’ll do it?”
“How about you let me know what you come up with, and I’ll think about it?” That way he’d have an out in case he’d already tried whatever she came up with. There was no use repeating something that had already failed.
“Wonderful!” A delighted smile blossomed upon her lips before it eased into one of compassion. “I’m so sorry, by the way, about your house.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that you stopped me from going home early. More than my ankle might have been hurt if you hadn’t.”
Her eyes widened. “I hadn’t even thought about that. Oh, that reminds me. I was supposed to get Doc. Don’t move an inch, Rhett Granger. I’ll be right back.”
She kept her promise of returning quickly with the doctor. Quinn and Helen followed after them, along with a tall, bookish-looking gentleman with spectacles whom Rhett recognized as Isabelle’s father, Thomas Bradley. Everyone seemed to want to speak at once. Eventually, they all deferred to Doc Williams. “If his ankle is as swollen as I think it will be, we won’t be able to get that boot back on. It would be far better to have him settled wherever he’ll be staying while I examine him.”
Mr. Bradley nodded. “To the boardinghouse, then.”
“The boardinghouse?” Rhett glanced at the concerned faces around him in confusion.
Isabelle nodded. “We’re offering you a room at our boardinghouse. Isn’t that right, Pa?”
“It certainly is. Your first week with us will be free given tonight’s unfortunate circumstances. After that, you are welcome to stay on as a renter should you choose to do so.”
Helen’s empathetic gaze met Rhett’s and she nodded. “It would be a good alternative since you don’t want to live with me and Quinn. I felt right at home during my stay at the boardinghouse when I first came to Peppin. The Bradleys are wonderful people. I’m sure they’ll look out for you while you heal.”
“I definitely appreciate the offer.” He wavered about whether to insist on paying for all the time he’d spend there. Deciding he didn’t want to take the chance of offending the Bradleys by rejecting their kindness, he gave them a grateful nod. “What’s more, I’d be happy to accept.”
Quinn and Helen left to fetch Rhett some necessities. Isabelle led the way to the boardinghouse while Rhett followed with Doc and Mr. Bradley bracing him on either side. Rhett was ensconced in Mr. Bradley’s study by the time Quinn and Helen met up with them. They deposited the toiletries and other items gifted to Rhett by Johansen’s Mercantile before Doc shooed them out as he had the Bradleys. Rhett held back a groan as Doc carefully pulled the boot off.
After a thorough examination, Doc shook his head. “Well, Rhett, it doesn’t look like anything is broken. My diagnosis is that you have a severe sprain, which was probably made worse by your continued exercise on it during the fire. I’m going to leave a mild pain reliever with you. I’m sure my wife knows of a few natural remedies that will help you recover. I’ll send her by tomorrow.”
Doc’s tone turned as stern as his look. “The most important element of your recovery is rest. I want you to stay off your feet as often as you can for the next forty-eight hours. After that, you’ll need to use crutches for at least two weeks. You must allow the ankle to heal properly. Otherwise, you’ll be far more likely to sprain it again in the near future. Now, let’s get it wrapped and elevated.”
Rhett was silent as he let the doctor work. Inside, he felt far less compliant. He could manage two days away from work since one of those days would be a holiday anyway, but two weeks? How could he possibly keep the smithy closed that long? Yet what else could he do? How likely was it that he’d be able to walk back and forth between the forge and the anvil on crutches while handling metal hot enough to be malleable?
He shook his head. He’d have to take it one day at a time. Perhaps he’d recover more quickly if he was diligent in following the doctor’s orders and implementing whatever natural remedies Mrs. Williams offered. A few minutes later, he patiently listened to Helen’s admonishments to do exactly that. Quinn said his farewells and ushered his wife out of the room after urging Rhett not to worry. Mrs. Bradley bustled in to ask if he needed anything. She left a bell for him to ring if he changed his mind. Mr. Bradley gave him an old set of crutches he’d found in the attic and directions to the water closet should a trip be necessary. Finally, everyone went to bed and he was left alone with his thoughts.
They should have centered on the fire, his living situation, replacing his belongings, figuring out his work predicament or any number of things. Instead, his mind was filled with thoughts of one person—Isabelle. He punched his pillow and shifted around in a vain attempt to get comfortable. Why did he always do this to himself? Why did he always get his hopes up when he knew it never worked out? He’d truly thought this time was different. Not solely because he wasn’t nervous around her, but because she was something special.
Why hadn’t he realized that before? Perhaps he hadn’t been looking. He’d focused his attention on her sister because it had been easier to engage her interest—at least from afar. Isabelle was more of a challenge to get to know simply because she wasn’t quite as bold around men as her sister had been.
However, his relationship with Quinn and Helen had allowed him to spend more time with Isabelle. He’d found himself enjoying that time more and more.
She was interesting and witty. She didn’t mind his teasing and could give back exactly as much as he gave out. Yet, she seemed to have a sensible head on her shoulders—sensible enough to want to avoid a relationship with him. That was what she was doing, wasn’t it?
He assumed so. Although, he technically hadn’t asked to court her. She also hadn’t actually refused him. She could have easily made it clear that she would never have any feelings for him beyond friendship despite the kiss they’d shared. Instead, she’d simply changed the subject to finding him a different sweetheart—while holding his hand.
The more he thought about their conversation, the less sense it made. The more he thought about her, the less he wanted to give up on the idea of seeing where a romance with her could lead. Of course, he would never ignore the fact that she hadn’t agreed to a courtship. However, courting wasn’t the only way to get to know someone. They were living in the same house now. Surely, that would give them a chance to get to know each other better. Perhaps, after a while, she might be more open to the possibility of a courtship with him.
It seemed unlikely at this point. However, he’d do all he could to make it as difficult as possible for her to try to hand him off to someone else—even if that meant only being her friend for a while. He could be content with that. He could only hope he was right about actually having a chance with Isabelle one day.
If not, he was setting himself up for disappointment like never before.
* * *
Rhett had been right. Isabelle had no idea how to help him overcome his fear of women. She’d never call his problem that to his face. Essentially, that was what it was, though. She wished she’d been able to think of something other than courtship lessons to distract him from his interest in her. Taking responsibility for the success or failure of someone else’s love life was a lot to handle when she’d never even had one of her own.
“Is something bothering you, sweetheart?” Concern and amusement filled the Virginia drawl her mother hadn’t been able to shake after twenty-five years of living in Texas. “You’re awfully quiet this morning. Besides, if you rub that dish any harder, you’ll make a hole right through it.”
“Oh.” She glanced down at the serving plate she was drying off, then poured the scrambled eggs onto it. “It will just be extra shiny this morning, I suppose.”
Her mother’s searching blue eyes met hers. “You can talk to me about anything. You know that, don’t you?”
She knew her parents