Free Promise Lodge by Charlotte Hubbard

ladder. I’m sorry I didn’t fix it before you started painting,” he remarked. “You’re doing a great job. Who knows how many years it’s been since these cabins have seen fresh paint?”
    â€œI’m happy to help. It’s the least I can do while I’m here.”
    Deborah stepped inside the cabin and paused. She couldn’t see Noah, but the squeak of a crank-out window told her he was in the far bedroom. Silently crossing the main room’s plank floor, she peered in to watch him work. It had always amazed her, how Noah handled his tools so effortlessly, as if they were extensions of his hands . . . strong, well-shaped hands that had once grasped hers and gently stroked her cheek.
    Noah turned as though he’d read her wistful thoughts. His dark brown hair framed his suntanned face in a mop of unruly waves. Even though he wasn’t Sunday-best clean, Deborah longed to touch him, to coax a boyish smile to his lips.
    â€œHey,” he murmured. He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry if I bumped your ladder—”
    â€œIt was my fault!” Deborah insisted as she hurried toward him. “I was watching you instead of paying attention to how far I’d reached—how the ladder was swaying. You’re always so intent on your work, and so gut at what you do, Noah. It’s a joy to watch you.”
    On impulse, she flung her arms around him. “I’m sorry if I’ve been a bother,” she murmured. “I just had to tell you I was wrong—to see if we couldn’t patch things up and be together again. Please, Noah?”
    As she hugged him, Deborah wondered what had gotten into her. Why was she behaving so boldly? No matter what Noah might think, however, she couldn’t let him take the blame for the painting incident.
    She felt him softening, returning her affection. Maybe this impulsive hug would bring her closer to becoming his wife....
    * * *
    Noah’s arms tightened around Deborah’s waist before he realized what he was doing. She smelled fresh and clean. Even though her hair and kerchief were damp, he felt a rush of warmth and longing that made him close his eyes. He’d forgotten how perfectly she fit against him, how firm and strong her body felt . . . how her voice teased at him and could convince him to do just about anything.
    For a few blissful moments he savored an embrace that took him back to happier times. Why is it again that you can’t allow Deborah back into your life? Noah nuzzled the damp hair above her ear, noting how the kerchief set off the line of her jaw—
    The bruise on her neck brought him back to reality. The handprint was less distinct, blurring from purple into a greenish yellow, but it was still the mark of another man.
    Noah touched the bruise lightly with his fingertip as he eased away from her. “Did your dat do this to you?” he whispered. He couldn’t help himself. Deborah’s injury held the key to his feelings for her.
    Her face clouded over. Noah reminded himself that she’d never been much good at fibbing, even as doubt and pain furrowed her brow and her cheeks turned splotchy and pink. “No,” she finally murmured.
    Noah took another step away from her. “Wrong answer.”
    â€œWrong question!” Deborah shot back. She crossed her arms tightly, as if to hold herself together when she turned away from him. “Why did you have to ruin—why can’t you trust me? Don’t you understand that I didn’t go asking for trouble when—”
    â€œYou didn’t come to Promise Lodge just to see me, either. Did you, Deborah?” he countered in a harsh whisper. “Why would I want you back if you’re really here to get away from somebody else?”
    When she rushed off, he had his answer, didn’t he?
    A few moments later Noah heard the swish of Deborah’s roller in the front room. He squeezed putty between his