A Tailor-Made Bride by Karen Witemeyer Read Free Book Online Page A

sock for you in trade? Anything?”
    “You can quit your yammerin’ and carry this table downstairs so I can get back to minding my own business instead of messing around in yours.”
    His sudden rudeness set her back on her heels, but as he ducked his head to hide behind the brim of his hat, an internal light dawned. This tough cowboy didn’t know how to deal with gratitude. He could repair a step and catch a falling damsel, but try to thank the fellow, and he got all surly. Maybe if she could remember that, he wouldn’t rile her so easily.
    If he could just remember that she was a dressmaker, maybe his gut wouldn’t end up in knots whenever she looked at him like that. It was enough to give a man indigestion.
    J.T. bit back a groan and flipped the table onto its side before she could distract him further. Miss Richards grabbed the leg and helped him maneuver the table through the doorway. She anticipated his movements and worked well with him as they eased down the steps, never once complaining about the weight or asking to take a break.
    They carried the table through the back door and set it up in the workroom. He then returned to finish with the trunks while she carried her only chair down to the shop, as well. Something about needing it for her sewing machine and using her trunks for benches. Maybe he could check into finding her some real chairs.
    After he deposited the last trunk, she locked up her room and followed him down the stairs.
    “How much do I owe you?”
    J.T. glanced off toward the livery, dodging her gaze. “A dollar for the wagon, and two bits for the unloading.”
    She handed him a one-dollar note and a silver twenty-five-cent piece. He tucked them into his pants pocket and nodded his thanks.
    “Was the dry-goods store down this way?” She bit her lip and pointed toward the south, her blue gaze losing some of the assurance that had blazed there since she’d arrived. “I need to stock up on some supplies before they close this afternoon.”
    An offer to escort her rose to his lips, but he quickly suppressed it. It was bad enough that he would have to see her tomorrow when he delivered the sawhorses and shelves he’d foolishly promised when the urge to make amends for his hasty judgments temporarily overrode his good sense.
    “Yep,” he said, choosing the safer option. “It’s two doors down. Just on the other side of Mrs. James’s laundry.”
    “Thank you.” She smiled in that way of hers, the one that made him feel like he had swallowed his toothpick. He frowned back.
    Miss Richards turned away and started down the boardwalk, her skirts swaying in a subtle rhythm. Left. Right. L—
    “Oh, Mr. Tucker?” She spun around, and J.T. jerked his focus back to her face. A cough that nearly strangled him lodged in his throat.
    “Do you happen to know of someone in town who might be willing to sell me a jar of milk in the morning?”
    The Harris family had a small dairy operation on the edge of town, where they sold milk, butter, and cheese to the locals. Will Harris, the eldest boy, usually made deliveries to the folks in town who didn’t keep their own cow, but J.T. hesitated to mention him. He was a big, strapping lad with an eye for the ladies. A woman on her own didn’t need a man like that coming around to her personal quarters in the early morning hours. Will was an honorable, churchgoing fella, yet the idea of him sniffing around Miss Richards set J.T.’s teeth on edge.
    “I’ll have my sister bring you some.”
    She snapped open the clasp on her purse and started swishing those hips toward him again. “Can I pay ahead for a week? I’ll give you—”
    “You and Delia can settle on a price tomorrow.” He waved her off and stepped down into the street. “I’ve gotta get back to the livery.”
    “Thank you for all your help, Mr. Tucker,” she called out to his back. “You truly have been a godsend.”
    He waved a hand in acknowledgment but didn’t turn around. Clenching