Free Ain't No Angel by Peggy L Henderson

hesitated, and shot him a questioning look.
    “It needs a little airing out, and the blankets and sheets on the bed’ll need changing, I’d guess. I’ll bring you some fresh ones. Otherwise, this should be quite comfortable and to your liking.”
    Tyler waited for her to step into the room. He followed her line of vision, looking at the large four-poster bed that had belonged to his parents. The simple wardrobe leaned up against the wall to the right, and a dresser to the left. An oval mirror with an ornate wooden frame hung over the dresser, and a bowl and pitcher for washing still stood where Tyler last remembered it. A simple wooden chair rounded out the furniture.
    He walked into the room, and set Laney’s bag on top of the chair, then opened the window. The cool afternoon breeze lifted the lace curtains in a light flutter, reminding him of Laney’s hair as it caressed her cheek.
    Tyler turned abruptly. Why the hell did everything he looked at remind him of something about her? He had to get his head on straight, or he’d be in worse shape than his father ever was.
    “Doesn’t look like you sleep in here much.” Laney’s words broke the silence. She wrinkled her nose, and ran her hand along the dresser counter, leaving a shiny trail behind where her fingers picked up the dust.
    “No, ma’am,” he answered. “This’ll be your room. Please fix it up as you see fit.” He held his hat in front of him, gripping the brim tightly, and moved around her to leave.  He stopped under the doorframe, and turned. Laney glanced at him, her confused eyes full of questions he wasn’t prepared to answer. The sooner he was out of this room, and away from her, the better.
    “I’ll bring in your trunks. Supper’ll be ready in a few hours. I usually eat with the men at the bunkhouse, but I can bring you a plate. I don’t expect you to eat with them.” He stepped further into the hall, and added, “Once you’re settled and would like to take over the chore of cooking, you let me know.”
    Laney stared at him blankly, as if she hadn’t understood a word he said. A look of bewilderment, something he would even define as shock, passed through her eyes.
    “You wouldn’t happen to have a microwave, would you?” Laney laughed. She shook her head. “I don’t think you want me to cook anything unless it comes in a box with instructions.”
    Tyler scrunched his eyebrows. A woman who didn’t cook? He almost laughed. His mother hadn’t been very good in the kitchen, either. In her line of work before she’d married his father, she didn’t need to know how. He stared at Laney. The skin on his chest tingled where she’d touched him minutes ago. Her forward behavior had ignited his body and senses, but now, a cold wave of dread washed over him.
    No. He dismissed the awful thought that entered his mind. Laney’s behavior was unusual, but he refused to compare her to his mother.
     
    ****
     
    Laney glanced around the bedroom, and released the air from her lungs in one long, drawn out breath. Tyler had just brought in the last of her trunks, given her another polite nod, and told her he had to go unhitch the horses. She stared at the open door to the room, and fought the impulse to run after him to tell him she would like to help. Something told her that wasn’t the wisest thing to do. Besides, she really wanted to get out of this confining dress, and whatever other layers she wore underneath. Hopefully there was something more comfortable to wear in her luggage.
    Slowly, she studied her surroundings. The fact that this room hadn’t been occupied in a long time was obvious. A thick layer of dust covered the furniture. A crystal oil lamp, also covered in dust, sat on top of an antique-looking dresser, and another one on the small nightstand by the bed. Unlike the rest of the house, which she’d only glimpsed briefly, this room had a definite feminine feel to it, with the lace curtains, and the ornate rose and