Free To Win Her Heart by Karen Witemeyer Page A

man called. “Sorry ’bout that. Red don’t like unexpected noises.”
    “Yeah. I’m fine.” He carried her several feet away before lowering her to her feet. Then he gently peeled the protective cocoon of his body from around her and peered into her face. “Are you hurt?”
    “No.” Eden’s legs trembled, though, and she grabbed his forearm to steady herself. He stilled and stared at her gloved hand as if it were a ladybug that had alit upon him, delicate and dainty against his corded masculinity. Embarrassed, Eden released him and dropped her hand to her side.
    “Thank you, Mr. Grant,” she said softly as she tugged her sleeve cuffs back down over her wrists. “That’s twice in one day you’ve come to my rescue.”
    “Glad to help, ma’am.”
    Again with the ma’am ? The warmth his gallantry had evoked cooled several degrees. Why could the man not remember her name? It was the same as the town, for heaven’s sake! How difficult could it be?
    “Really, Mr. Grant. One would think that after living in this town for nearly a week and making numerous visits to my library, you would extend me the courtesy of learning my name.”
    “I know your name, Eden.”
    Her eyes shot to his.
    “I know your name.” The intensity in his gaze left no doubt of his sincerity.
    “Hey, Levi.” The owner of the recalcitrant horse spoke up, and Mr. Grant looked away. “I think I got ’er settled down. If the lady don’t mind waitin’, you can finish shoein’ her now.”
    Mr. Grant . . . Levi . . . raised a brow at her in question.
    “Go ahead. I’ll just stay out of Red’s range over here in the corner.” And try to restore her pulse to a normal rhythm.
    He stared at her for a moment in a way that had her despairing of ever regaining control of her runaway pulse. Then, with a nod, he returned to work.
    Taking slow, even breaths, Eden wandered to the back wall. A makeshift wash station had been rigged from pieces of broken furniture to support a basin the size of a horse trough. She smiled and ran a finger across the rim, until an unwelcome thought intruded.
    If he’d known her name this whole time, why did he not use it when she specifically requested he do so? Was he playing some kind of game at her expense? She peeked over her shoulder to where he stood bent at the waist, Red’s back hoof cradled in his lap upon a leather apron. Every once in a while Levi would stroke the animal’s flank and murmur words she couldn’t make out. But they must have been soothing, for the horse remained calm and cooperative. Somehow she couldn’t quite picture this patient, gallant giant amusing himself in a spiteful way at another’s expense.
    Eden turned back to the table. A discarded scrap of towel sat lonely and forgotten in a wadded heap. She picked it up, shook out its creases, and folded it into a tidy rectangle. She laid it beside the washtub and straightened the white shirt that hung askew from a peg to her left. It was the one he’d worn to church and for his visits to the library. Was it the only good shirt he owned? She tilted her head to examine his work clothes. The trousers were the same dark brown ones she’d become accustomed to seeing stretched out across her reading-room floor. Now that she thought about it, she’d never seen him wear a different pair. He must have fallen on hard times. Perhaps she should forgo asking him for a donation. She’d not want to embarrass him or take funds he could ill afford to give.
    The door at the back of the shop stood open. Maybe it would be best for all concerned if she left before he could ask why she had come.
    Eden stole another glimpse at Levi. He looked to be finished. The horse was standing on all fours as the two men discussed something—payment most likely. Careful to mind her steps so as not to repeat her earlier mistake, Eden picked her way toward the back entrance. However, the moment she exited into the waiting sunshine, a shaggy gray creature with