Nicole Foster - Jake's Angel

“I wouldn’t let it trouble you. I’m not adept enough to charm serpents into your room. Yet.”

She walked to the door and turned to give him a tight smile. “Goodbye, Mr. Coulter. I promise you, the only sorcery you’ll find here will come from the hands of one of Elish’s girls.”

Jake stared after her, torn between following her just to take away her advantage of getting the last word or trying to forget she ever lived to annoy him. Before he could decide, Elish Dodd appeared in the doorway, stopping Isabel from leaving.

“If you’re lookin’ for magic, you’re gonna have to find it somewhere else,” he said, stepping past Isabel to face Jake. “I just got word a dozen or more men finishin’ a cattle drive will be ridin’ in tonight lookin’ for whiskey and girls and I’m gonna need all the rooms I have. Since you ain’t in no condition to be takin’ advantage of the amenities here, you might want to consider a room in the nearest thing we got here to a hospital.”

“And where might that be?” Jake asked, already suspecting he knew the answer and not wanting to hear it.

“Why, in Mrs. Bradshaw’s house,” Elish said, flashing a grin between Jake and Isabel. “You know, the woman you’ve managed to rile enough for her to turn a knife on you. I’m sure she’ll take you in, she has this fondness for strays no matter how ornery they are.” Before he left, Elish winked at Isabel then turned to Jake. “But if I was you, friend, I’d sleep with one eye open ’til you get back on her good side.”

“I’ll make room for you, cowboy.”

The purr of Anita Devine’s voice broke the awkward silence between Isabel and Jake. Caught in the moment of suspended tension, Isabel jumped at the sound, jerking around toward the doorway.

Anita posed there, her dark eyes roving over Jake with slow deliberation. Raven tresses spilled over her bare shoulders, a few spiral curls catching in the lace at her low-cut bodice. As her gaze slid over Jake’s body, a satisfied smile curved the edges of her painted mouth.

She sauntered into the room, petticoats swishing at her ankles, brushing past Isabel as though she didn’t exist, heading straight to the edge of the bed. Bending down far enough for her ample bosom to spill over the black lace at the scooped neckline of her dress, she smoothed a heavy wave from Jake’s brow.

“Elish told me about your dilemma, Mr. Coulter. And I’ve come to offer a solution. I’d be quite happy to make room so you can stay with me while you recover.”

Isabel stood to the side, caught off guard by Anita’s brazen proposition, though she didn’t know why she should be. Anita’s reputation was well-known all over the high country towns surrounding Whispering Creek. Women around town called her the Black Widow because she had a way of seducing a handsome man and using him up, leaving him with little more than his boots when she sent him walking.

Isabel tried to judge Jake’s response, but his expression gave nothing away. Only his eyes showed any reaction and the coldness there almost forced her back a step.

“What a generous offer,” he drawled, raking Anita with a dismissing glance that was far from flattering.

Anita’s eyes narrowed, but her smile stayed in place. “I’m part owner in this place, so my offer is sincere, I assure you.”

“Oh, I’m sure it is.” Jake shifted and looked directly at Isabel.

The moment his eyes settled on her, Isabel itched to turn her back on both of them and leave them to haggle over the living arrangements without her witness.

What did he want? For her to make him a better offer? Did he expect her to beg for his company?

Perversely, part of her wanted to insist he return home with her. She supposed the ridiculous urge was nothing more than instinctive feminine competition though normally she wasn’t at all given to that sort of nonsense.

Especially when Jake Coulter was the last man she should want sleeping under her roof.

Still, he looked at her with that faintly challenging glint in his eyes and she felt herself responding even while common sense called her a fool. He’d done nothing to indicate he needed or wanted her help, in fact he’d practically thrown her out when she offered.

Then again, she did have a vacant room and heaven only knew how long she might have to wait to find a new boarder. And she could ill afford a long spell with no rent on that room. Even with her shop, she barely made ends meet.

Aware both Jake and Anita now stared at her, Isabel drew herself up. “Well, Mr. Coulter, I was going to tell you I did have a room open up yesterday, but it sounds as though you have a fine offer for a very comfortable room right here—”

“I’ll take it.”

“What?” Isabel and Anita blurted out in unison.

Anita slapped her hands to her tightly cinched-in waist. “Are you sayin’ you’d rather go and stay with the witch and her brats than here with me? I’ll have you know I don’t make a habit of offerin’ to share my room with just anyone!”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” Jake said. “A man’s got to be willing to pay the price and I’m sure your price is high.”

“I’ll make an exception for you, darlin’.”

“No, thanks.”

“No—!”

“I want someplace private, where I can find a little peace and quiet.” He looked back to Isabel. “You can promise that much, Mrs. Bradshaw, can’t you?”

“Not particularly,” Isabel said lightly. “I can offer you a measure of privacy. As for peace and quiet, once my boys get home from their lessons, the noise in my house could easily rival with a raucous crowd on a good night at the Silver Rose.”

“See there.” Anita leaned a little farther over, maneuvering closer to give Jake the best view of her voluptuous body. “Now is that what you call peace and quiet?”

Jake scowled at Isabel. “Can you give me a room or not?”

“I’ll rent you a room.”

“Then it’s settled. I’ll move in today.”

Anita stood up straight and squared her shoulders. “Suit yourself, but don’t come back here knocking on my door when you find out you’ve moved into a hornet’s nest.” Her eyes narrowed to catlike slits. “I won’t forget this insult, Mr. Coulter.”

Isabel couldn’t suppress a small grin as Anita flounced out of the room in a snit.

“You look pleased with yourself. Did you want me that bad?”

Jake nearly regretted the jibe when her smile upended and she frowned. He’d surprised himself in flatly turning down Anita Devine. He’d done it not because of the obvious services she offered in his recovery, or because Isabel could get him on his feet faster than anyone, but out of some instinctive reaction to protect Isabel Bradshaw.

Why she provoked that reaction he couldn’t say. She didn’t seem the type to want or need a man’s shelter. Yet he sensed some unseen vulnerability in her. Despite himself, she’d inspired a response even he didn’t expect.

Now he found himself enjoying the fire he’d sparked in her.

“Want you?” she sputtered. “Don’t flatter yourself, Mr. Coulter. You were practically begging me to rent you that room.”

“Dodd says you have the only place in town that takes wounded strays.”

“I’m sure Anita would have given you her undivided attention.”

“I don’t want her attention. I want yours.”

“Really? I can’t imagine why. You haven’t missed an opportunity to insult me. And I can hardly offer you the same amenities as Anita.”

Jake let his eyes rove over her in deliberate suggestion. To her credit, she didn’t flinch away, but gave his bold appraisal back in full measure. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that. You’ve got those wonderful weeds.”

“I’m tempted to give you a double dose of them and have you hauled off to my house, with or without your blessing,” Isabel said, not really understanding his sudden faith in her healing ability and not certain whether she should be flattered or good and riled at him.

“You’re the only one in this town who can tell if this wound’s getting better or worse,” he reasoned. “And I’ll be helping you out by keeping your room rented until a more permanent border comes along.”

“So you’re doing me a favor now. I see. How kind of you, sir.”

“Let’s just say we can help each other out for the time being, okay? I have business here and I don’t want to get it done from a saloon.”

Isabel immediately stiffened. She’d been afraid of this. Still it was better to face the truth about Jake Coulter now. “Business? What business, may I ask?”

The look he gave her might have daunted a strong man, let alone a woman armed only with her wits and a single knife. Isabel, though, refused to back down. If she planned on taking Jake Coulter into her house, she needed to know who might come looking for him, guns drawn.

“You can ask,” Jake said. “I don’t have any answers for you right now. Don’t worry though, in this condition, I’m not too dangerous.”

“That’s not good enough.” What was he hiding, and more importantly, why? Her eyes strayed to the gun belt looped over the bedpost. “I have a family to think of.”

Jake followed her gaze but said nothing, only smiled, a faint, sardonic twist of his lips that made Isabel shiver and at the same time roused her irritation.

“I’ll be long gone before I’d put your family in harm’s way. Now, I could use another shot of that magic potion of yours. I don’t think I can get down the stairs without it and a large bottle of whiskey.”

“You won’t be able to get down the stairs with that combination, I guarantee it.”

“You have a better idea?”

Isabel had several, but she kept them to herself. I’ll learn your secrets, Jake Coulter, she told him silently, one way or the other.

Out loud, she told him, “I’ll give you something that’ll put you to sleep for several hours and from the look in your eyes, that will be a relief to both of us.”

Not waiting for his retort, she plunged ahead, taking refuge from his disturbing presence by organizing his release from the Silver Rose. “Besides, you’re going to need something for the ride home. I’ll ask Elish to help move you to his cart, but it’s a rough ride to my place.”

“So’s life,” Jake said with a short, mirthless laugh. “Go ahead and bring me my poison, witch.”

Jake woke to the voice of an angel singing and wondered if he’d died in one of Elish Dodd’s beds after all. Heaven, though, surely must be a lot less painful, he decided as he shifted a little in the direction of the sound. His leg ached and when he forced open his eyes, the glare of afternoon sunlight through an open window knifed his head. Wincing, he turned away, focusing instead on the unfamiliar room.

Heaven or hell, it was definitely not the Silver Rose. The high-pitched ceiling of the upstairs log cabin loft reflected a woman’s touch, from the woven, multicolored rug on the pine plank floor and the lace curtains at the window, to the earthenware jar of rosemary and lavender on the dresser. Her touch. Chessie’s witch; his angel of mercy.

She meant it, he thought, remembering Isabel Bradshaw’s threat to pack him off to her “hospital” with or without his permission. He didn’t know whether to be impressed or annoyed that she’d pulled it off.

Before he could decide, a hot drift of breeze carried the angel’s song into the room again, a clear, pure voice raised in a soulful Spanish ballad. Ignoring the wash of pain and dizziness, Jake flung back the quilt and limped to the window to look down on the garden below.