“No,” Dusty croaked. “’Twas Weasel.”
Dutch filled a cup with coffee and handed it to the near-frozen man. “Now take it easy.”
Dusty cradled his hands about the cup and leaned over it, as if he’d been longing for the aroma. Then he lifted the cup to his lips and drank back several swallows. “Ah, that hits the spot.”
Dutch stood over him. “You gonna tell us what happened?”
Dusty sighed. His expression calmed and he looked less likely to turn into a raving madman.
Louise’s nerves stopped twanging and she relaxed her grip on Nate’s hand. He pulled away from her grasp and curled and uncurled his fingers as if restoring circulation.
She quirked one eyebrow at him. “Did I hurt you?” She couldn’t keep the teasing tone from her voice.
“The feeling is starting to return. Lady, you could maim someone with that grip of yours.”
She chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind should I ever need to do so.”
He laughed, too, and pulled her a little closer. “Let’s hope you never have such an occasion.” Both of them were teasing, yet his gaze was not one of amusement. He looked deep into her eyes, saying things she could only dream of hearing and likely only imagined now. I’m glad you’re safe. I want to take care of you.
She forced herself to turn from his look. They knew this was a temporary arrangement. He had plans. He didn’t have time for a wife and child.
That was okay. She had plans, too. Plans that involved making a life for herself, her child and Missy, and staying as far away from Vic Hector as was humanly possible.
Dusty grunted. “Weasel, you crazy dog.”
Louise’s attention returned to their host, though he really didn’t fill the bill of host. She could see him more readily in the role of dungeon keeper. The thought made her shiver.
“I found him in that old soddy. Kind of figured I would. He likes to hunt vermin in there.” He drained his cup and held it out for Dutch to refill. He savored several more mouthfuls, then held it to the dog who lapped the liquid eagerly.
When it appeared he’d forgotten his story, Dutch prodded him. “Did you stay there till now?”
Dusty scowled at his dog who lay before the stove, his eyes never leaving Dusty’s face. “Do you think I could persuade that crazy dog to come back with me to the house? No sirree. He blocked the door and growled at me. I have a good mind to teach him to obey me.”
Louise gasped before she could think better of it.
Nate pressed his hand to her shoulder and whispered in her ear, “I don’t think he’d ever lay a finger on the dog and would likely not look kindly on anyone else doing so.” His breath warmed her cheek. “That’s poor old Dusty’s way of showing affection.”
She turned to put her mouth to Nate’s ear. “Then small wonder he’s not married.”
Their gazes caught and held. What she saw in his blue eyes made her heart swoop and soar in a way she’d never felt before. She tried to pull away but couldn’t find the strength, as if she’d exerted the last of her store in squeezing his hand so hard.
“Then all of a sudden—” Dusty’s voice ended the moment between them, making her jerk her attention in his direction.
It had only been her vivid imagination that made her so foolish. Nate was kind and thoughtful and everything she might want in a husband, but that wasn’t part of their agreement.
She had to admit, however, she was finding it harder and harder to remember the specifics of their pretend-marriage agreement.
“Weasel barked to get out of the soddy. I said, ‘I’m not going,’ but he wouldn’t shut up. Only way I could get any peace was to follow him.” Dusty lowered his head and his voice fell. “Guess I was in worse shape than I realized. Couldn’t hardly stand up. Weasel guided me here.” He nudged the dog with his bare foot. “I suppose I should thank him for taking care of me before I froze to death.”
Louise understood the rough tone hid his true feelings.
Dusty reached for his socks and worn boots. “Guess I’ll see what I can build for supper.”
Louise vowed she would not eat a thing that man prepared. She suspected a person could die from contact with those dirty socks. Even indirect contact.