Chapter 23
An Uninvited Guest
Nearly two hours later, after countless trips to the creek and singeing her fingers lighting the small cast-iron stove in the bedroom, Charlotte poured the last bucket of water into the tin tub.
The adage, careful what you ask for , ran through her head because preparing the half-full tub had very nearly killed her.
After stripping off her filthy clothes, she sank into the warm—far from hot—water.
The tub was oval and not long enough to stretch her legs out.
Her head, shoulders, half her chest, and bent legs stuck out, but it still felt glorious.
Before her hard-prepared water cooled, she reached for the tin of soap.
It was a brand she’d never heard of before.
She sniffed the white bar, found its clean, mild scent appealing, and dropped it in.
Charlotte laughed in delight when, instead of sinking, it floated on top.
She glanced at the label on the tin—Ivory Soap. “Since it will take a month for me to recover from this ordeal, this will be handy in my next bath—in the creek,” she mused aloud.
After scrubbing everything twice, she was delighted to see the new soap left more bubbles than the fancy scented soaps she used to use.
Before all the heat was gone, she wiggled around until she could rest her head on the rim, even though her knees and legs to mid-thigh stuck out, and she closed her eyes.
She aimed to relax for a few minutes, but she couldn’t turn off her brain.
If the ruling didn’t go her way, there was still so much to do—sealing cracks in the walls, planting a late-season vegetable garden, and another priority, figuring out what was wrong with the chimney—all tasks she had never attempted before.
But she was an intelligent, determined woman.
She could accomplish anything if she set her mind to it.
As with so many of the obstacles in her life, what choice did she have except to face them head-on?
If she was still living here when the snows of January arrived and the winds caused drifts some up to six feet deep, traveling to town would be impossible, and she’d have to be prepared, including a roof cave-in!
Charlotte refused to dwell on anything negative at the moment, even though that was the state of her life currently. She forced those thoughts out of her head to enjoy what remained of her bath, what promised to be a rare treat.
She wouldn’t exactly call it comfortable, but she was drifting in a state of hazy exhaustion as a sudden, sharp knock on the door shattered her tranquility. She sat up with a splash, sending droplets of water everywhere. Who would call at this late hour?
She didn’t have to wonder for long. When she didn’t answer quickly enough, a deep voice called, “Charlotte, it’s Sheriff Walker.”
“What’s he doing here?” she muttered, eyeing the towel and robe she had laid out on the bed.
Did she rush to the door, wet from the bath, or ignore him and hope he went away? She was leaning toward option B when he thwarted her plan.
“I know you’re at home. I can see a lamp burning.”
“I’m not receiving visitors,” she called. “Particularly uninvited ones,” she added, annoyed at being interrupted, especially by him. “Go away.”
“We need to talk.”
“I’m busy and have nothing to say to you. Get off my land and don’t return without an invitation.” She waited, unmoving, while listening intently. When she heard nothing more, she uttered, “And don’t hold your breath waiting for it to arrive.”
Slowly relaxing, she sank into the water once more. This time, instead of drifting in a haze, she shivered. It was tepid, at best. She should get out, dry off, and dress, but that all required energy she didn’t have.
“No wonder you didn’t answer the door.”
At the deep voice coming out of the darkness of the next room, Charlotte shrieked, her body jerking violently, sending suds and water everywhere, on her face, into her eyes, and sloshing onto the floor.
“I didn’t mean to startle you. Here’s a towel.”
She reached for it blindly, grabbing onto not the bath sheet she planned to wrap up in afterward but a much smaller hand towel.
“How did you get in here?” she demanded as she wiped soapy water from her eyes. “I’m sure I locked the door.”
“It wasn’t difficult. All it took was a little jiggling. That lock is little more than flimsy wire and a joke, frankly.”
“Why are you here?” she demanded, glaring up at him, eyes stinging.
“I came by to make sure you’re safe out here.”
“As you can see, I’m fine. You may go.”
“A woman living alone in the woods is insane, Charlotte. Come back to town. You can stay at the inn until we figure everything out.”
“I went to the inn,” she informed him, feeling vulnerable sitting naked in her tub with him looming over her, and from what he was forcing her to admit. “They refused to rent a room to a whore. As did the three boarding houses in town. This was my only option.”
Silence followed. When she met his gaze, she read pity and concern. She wanted neither and bristled. “This is my home, bought and paid for, and I intend to stay. You’ve done your duty, Sheriff. Please, leave.”
“What happens when someone dishonorable comes calling?”
“Someone already has!” she snapped.
“Are you always this prickly?”
“When an uninvited guest interrupts me in the tub and refuses to leave, how could I be anything else?”
She regretted mentioning the tub when his eyes lowered to the water. “The bubbles are almost gone,” he needlessly observed.
“Yes, and the water is getting cold.”
“I can see that,” he drawled, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.
The washcloth wouldn’t cover enough, including her suddenly hard nipples. She bent her knees and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’d like to get out,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Don’t let me stop you.” His gaze didn’t waver, and he didn’t move a muscle to leave.
A flush spread across her cheeks. From anger at the sheer nerve of the man, and, to her dismay, the attraction that arced between them whenever they met. Seth’s presence in her home, the way he looked at her, and the way he spoke to her were both infuriating and exhilarating.
He took a step closer, and the breath caught in her throat. She expected him to kneel beside the tub and touch her, perhaps kiss her, but when he bent, it was only to lay her full-sized towel over the rim of the tub.
His boots scuffed on the bare floor as he crossed the room and was gone the next moment.
She stared at the closed door, relieved, but even more so, disappointed.
Charlotte left the tub and hastily dried off.
She slipped her arms into her robe, tying it as she rushed into the main room, eager to lock her outside door and somehow reinforce it.
She skidded to a halt, seeing the sheriff hadn’t left but stood with the door open, hammer and nails in hand—her hammer, so she assumed her nails, too.
“What are you doing?”
“Fixing your lock,” he replied without looking up.
“That, uh, isn’t necessary,” she said, pulling the robe, which was clinging to her damp skin, closer around her.
“I disagree,” he drawled. “Anyone with a knife can enter as easily as I did. I’ve reinforced this metal latch. It might slow them down, but it won’t keep anyone out if they’re determined to get inside.” His head swiveled toward her when he asked, “You have a gun to protect yourself, don’t you?”
She glanced at the shotgun leaning up against the corner, a good six feet from the door. “Always keep it within arm’s reach,” he advised. “It should have been in the bedroom with you, not out here where it was of no use.”
He hammered noisily for the next few minutes then announced, “That should do it until you get a decent lock.” He frowned at the door. “I could probably put my boot through this wood. It’s rotted.”
“I’ll add it to my repair list,” Charlotte said with a sigh.
“I’m going outside to test it.” Seth exited, pulling the door shut behind him. The latch wiggled and held when he tried it from the outside. He knocked again.
This time, she rushed to open it. “You fixed it!”
“Temporarily,” he reminded her. “The whole thing needs replacing.”
“That’s what George said. He’s due back,” she explained, “but it rained today.”
What a silly remark, Charlotte! As if he doesn’t know . It was still coming down, his hat, hair, and duster still damp from it. She shifted awkwardly in the doorway, wanting him to leave as badly as she wanted him to stay.
“Uh…thank you…Sheriff,” she mumbled, her voice barely a whisper above the chirping of crickets nearby. “This is going beyond the call of duty.”
“I’m off duty. This is a man showing concern for a woman on her own,” he told her, the rich texture of his voice and the captivating blue of his gaze sparking a dormant longing deep within her.
Only inches separated them, a silent tension crackling in the air between them. She shifted uncomfortably, the memory of his eyes on her naked form in the tub, and her instinctive reaction fresh in her mind. The thin, clingy robe did little to hide it.
“Do you know how beautiful you are?” he asked, as his gaze swept slowly over her, from her damp hair to her bare feet.
Men had done that countless times a day for over a decade.
Even though her body hadn’t been for sale for a long time, it usually made her feel dirty, or cheap, like a sweet in a bakery case that could be had for a pittance.
With Seth, it was different. She could see the hunger, yes, but there was more than desire simmering in his eyes.
The air between them thick with unspoken longing, their bodies drew toward one another, as if a powerful magnet had taken hold.
He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her in until they pressed together from chest to knee.
She could feel the heat radiating off him and the strong, steady beat of his heart.