Free Missy Meets the Marshal (Lone Star Love Book 2) by Amelia Smarts

If you are, I feel obliged to give it to you." He moved a hand to his belt.
    "I'm not," she squealed, jumping to her feet. She scurried to the kitchen and grabbed the frying pan.
    Grover smirked. One thing was certain. Life with Missy would never be boring.
     
     
     
     
     

Chapter 7 - A Husband's Attention
     
    Weeks passed, during which Missy experienced for the first time how it felt to be loved by a man. Grover never said he loved her out loud, but she could see it in his actions. He paid attention to her and performed small gestures of kindness according to what he noticed she needed. These gestures would seem trifling to most women. But to Missy, who never knew her father and who had spent years married to a cruel man, they were nothing less than amazing. She found herself running to the other room often to hide her tears from him after he showed her some small kindness. She knew he wouldn't understand her crying. Even if she convinced him that they were tears of happiness, she worried that he might stop being kind if he knew the emotional effect it had on her.
    One day Grover showed her three kindnesses, one right after the other, and she couldn't hide her tears. It was a chilly morning, and she rose early to light the fire and cook breakfast. Shivering, she rubbed her hands together in front of the stove's fire.
    Grover stood in the frame of the bedroom door buttoning his shirt. "It's a mite chilly this morning. You cold?"
    "A little. I'll warm up once I start moving around more."
    Moments later, she felt soft wool wrapping around her shoulders and joining at her chest. He kept his arms around her, squeezed her to him, and kissed the side of her neck. "Wear your shawl when you're cold," he said sternly.
    She smiled, feeling warmed by both the shawl and his words. When he released her, she moved to the other side of the kitchen and struggled to reach a platter on the top shelf of the cupboard. Standing on her toes, she stretched and was able to touch it but unable to grasp it. Suddenly a tall body stood over her. He grabbed it off the shelf and handed it to her before he smacked her bottom playfully and walked outside. When he returned, he brought with him a short stool. He placed it on the floor next to the stove.
    "For when I'm not around," he explained.
    Missy stared at it, unable to speak. She felt a burn in her nose and tears coming to her eyes. She blinked, trying with everything she had in her not to let the tears spill, but soon they streamed down her face.
    "Missy?" His tone was incredulous. "What in the Sam Hill is wrong?"
    "It's just that…" Missy rubbed her eyes and sniffed. "It's just that you're so kind to me."
    He stared at her. "For God's sake, woman. That's a foolish reason to cry if I ever heard one. Stop it this instant."
    "I'll stop. But don't you stop being nice to me," she said forcefully. "I don't want you to stop being nice just because it makes me cry."
    "I don't understand why on earth it would."
    "I'm not used to a man treating me kindly. It makes me feel happy and also afraid because I don't think I could do without it now."
    "Missy, I don't intend to stop being nice to you. It's normal for a man to be kind to his wife. You would know that if you'd married a normal man to begin with."
    Bitterness crept into her tone. "It's not all my fault. I thought Nathan was like you when I married him."
    He scoffed. "Are you off your rocker? Nathan and I are nothing alike."
    "You are, Grover. Neither of you takes guff from anybody, and you don't show fear in times when other men would spook and get gaited. I liked that about Nathan. I thought he was a man who would protect me, but he was even rougher with me than he was with some of the men he hated. Toward the end before I ran away, I wondered every day whether he might kill me, and I actually felt grateful to him when another day passed that he didn't. He said I was worthless and a burden to him, and he informed me that I was a prostitute. I hadn't