Free An Unexpected Annulment (The Colorado Brides Series Book 3) by Carré White Page B

finding a taut tummy, although everything was speckled with short, dark hair. I worked the buttons on his trousers, pulling the material down his legs, exposing his underthings. I avoided his stare, knowing that if I were to look at him, I would not be able to continue.
    He was more than capable of managing the rest on his own, and I gave him the rag and the soap, turning my back to him. “Just tell me when you’re done.” I listened to the sound of splashing water, as he dunked the cloth into the bucket.
    “I am slightly disappointed. I thought you’d be doin’ this.”
    I sucked in a breath. “Sir, I do believe you’re feeling better.”
    “I am.”
    The mattress creaked, as he moved, and I glanced over my shoulder. He held the sheet to his midsection. “Do you need more water?”
    “That’ll do for now.”
    “I’ll bring you breakfast then.”
    He smiled slightly. “Never had it in bed before, but that sounds mighty good.”
    “Do you want tea?”
    “I prefer coffee, but I know we don’t got any.”
    “You’re in need of quite a few things. Every house should have a proper larder, a henhouse, and a milking cow.”
    “I sold all of that a while back. I’ve kinda fallen on hard times, Mrs…er…what was your name again? I’m sorry.”
    “Ms. Hoffman. Louisa Hoffman.”
    “No husband?”
    That was a rather direct question. “No.” His look was contemplative, but it was the hint of interest in his eyes that sent a peculiar shiver down my backbone. “I’ll see about breakfast now.”
    It was imperative that I distance myself from him. He needed to dress to be received properly. I shouldn’t be in a room with a half-naked man. When I returned with a plate filled with griddlecakes smothered in honey and molasses and a cup of tea, his attention remained on me. The children hollered outside, playing in the yard happily.
    “Thank you. That looks good. Real good.”
    “The doctor was astonished that you pulled through. He didn’t think you would make it.”
    “He cut a hole in my head?”
    “Yes, he did. It was ingenious, but dangerous. You’re lucky to be alive.”
    “The roof fell on me.”
    “A beam from the ceiling, yes. It’s been fixed, so you know. Nathan Weaver and Jerry Pratt did the repairs yesterday.”
    He seemed surprised by that. “You folks are awfully nice to me.”
    “You’re a neighbor in need, sir.”
    “You’ve done a lot for my kids.”
    “They were running around feral without shoes on.”
    “I know. That’d be my fault.”
    “I would like some assurance I won’t see them like that again. I know you’re ill now, but once you recover.”
    “I can only do what I can do, Ms. Hoffman. I go to the mountains to mine on and off, but the money never lasts. I’d like to sell the furniture I make, but I don’t have time to finish it properly. Everything is half-done.” He glanced at me pointedly. “I need a wife.”
    For some strange reason, my stomach burst with an explosion of tingles. “I suppose you do, sir.”
    “I ain’t too good at social graces and all that other…nonsense. I met Abigail in the schoolroom, and we’ve been together ever since. We came out from Virginia when the gold rush was at its peak.”
    “I see.”
    “I know now, we should’a stayed where we were. This place has brought nothin’ but bad luck.”
    “What did your wife die of?”
    “Consumption.”
    That was a horrible, lingering disease. “I’m sorry. That’s a terrible way to die. It’s sad the children had to see that.” He’d finished the food; the plate was in his lap. “I’ll take that.”
    “Why don’t you have a husband? You’re a handsome-lookin’ woman.”
    “That’s really none of your business.” I hated that his praise left me buzzing with pleasure.
    “But you’re stickin’ your nose in mine. You’re telling me what my house needs and how to raise my kids.”
    “You really are feeling better.”
    “Answer my question. Why don’t you have a