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Sean nodded, already backing away. “I’ll get some men to help me soak down the houses beside yours.”
Rhett glanced around for some way to be of use. “Come on, Quinn. Even if we can’t save the house, we need to keep the fire under control. Let’s join the bucket brigade.”
Quinn stopped him after only a handful of steps. “You’re limping. Why didn’t you say you were hurt?”
“I twisted my ankle on the way down the fire escape. That’s all.”
“Fire escape?”
“Yeah, I was on the roof with...”
Suddenly realizing the facts might sound a little less than respectable, he decided to stop talking. Apparently, the decision came a second too late for the confusion in his friend’s gaze had turned to speculation. “With a distraction? A female distraction perhaps?”
“I didn’t say that.”
Quinn lifted a brow. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”
How could he when he hadn’t even had time to sort through it himself? He shifted his focus back to the fire. “There isn’t the time for that, Quinn. We need to find some way to help out.”
“What you need to do is sit down. I’ll find Doc. Meanwhile, you should resign yourself to staying with me and Helen for a while.”
“Staying with...?” He blinked, realizing he had no place to sleep tonight. “Y’all don’t have to do that. I can stay at the hotel.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know. But I can’t stay at your place long-term, anyway. Y’all are practically newlyweds. Besides, I’ve got a business to run in town. I need to be close to it.”
Quinn gave him a doubtful look. “Depending on what Doc says, you may not be running anything for a while. Now, will you go sit down?”
“No. I told you I’ll be fine.” Rhett did his best to minimize his limp as he walked to the bucket brigade. He didn’t want to sit down until the fire was under control, and he knew no one else’s house was in danger. He might be starting the New Year with nothing more than a pirate costume and a harmonica, but that didn’t mean anyone else should have to lose their home.
Knowing he’d be too slow to do much good at the front of the line, where men raced back and forth to the fire, he stood near the back and helped pass buckets down the line. It wasn’t something that took a lot of thought, so his mind strayed back to those few minutes when he was alone on the hotel roof with Isabelle. It had been beyond perfect. He hadn’t stammered or stuttered once as far as he could remember. He’d kissed her, though. He remembered that—vividly.
Had his prayers finally been answered, then? Had God taken away his impediment around women? What other explanation could there be for what had happened with Isabelle?
He couldn’t think of one. Of course, he wasn’t exactly of a mind-set to try too hard at it, either. With so much turning to ash around him, how could he not fan the few embers of hope still burning in his heart?
* * *
As soon as Rhett left her, Isabelle took off in the opposite direction. He might not realize it yet, but he was going to need someplace to stay. She knew exactly who could help him with that. She stumbled into that very man as she rounded the corner toward Main Street. “Pa.”
“Isabelle!” Her father pulled her into a tight hug then stepped back to look at her. “Are you all right? What was that sound?”
“I’m fine.” She told him about the fireworks exploding before explaining that Rhett’s house was on fire. “Surely, there’s something we can do to help him now that he has nowhere to go.”
For the first time since Amy’s elopement, she saw her father’s eyes fill with a mix of determination and purpose regarding the boardinghouse. “Of course we can. We have a vacant room. He’ll stay with us rent-free for a while.”
“Thank you, Pa. I knew you’d feel that way. The only problem is that he hurt his ankle in the rush to get to the fire. I’m not sure he’ll be able to make it up the stairs right now.”
“He can stay in my study until he’s healed a bit.” He gave her arm a gentle squeeze. “Go on home, sweetheart. Help your ma set up one of the extra mattresses in that room. I’ll see what I can do to help at the fire.”
She rushed home to do exactly that. When her younger sister offered to help their mother set things up for Rhett, Isabelle found herself returning to the fire. The scene was far less chaotic than when she’d left it. The volunteer fire brigade seemed to have everything under control, though they still battled to put the fire completely out. Bystanders, mainly women, watched in groups. Most still wore their costumes from the masquerade, but had taken off their masks. That helped her spot Helen and Quinn near the front of the crowd.
“I was wondering where you were,” Helen said as she gave Isabelle a quick hug. “Quinn and I have been trying to figure out what we can do for Rhett.”
Quinn grimaced. “More like, what he’ll let us do.”
“Where is he?”
Quinn nodded toward the fire. “He’s somewhere out there battling the fire even though I know he’s in pain. He says he twisted his ankle coming down a—”
Isabelle hushed him as she glanced around, half expecting to find her father standing behind her with a scowl on his face. Thankfully, he was nowhere in sight. He might be a little more reluctant to extend their family’s hospitality if he guessed she’d been on the hotel roof with Rhett. Her father had taken her up there before, and he’d never said that she couldn’t go up with anyone else. He’d only said she shouldn’t go alone. Of course, there was also the not-so-little matter of the midnight kiss she’d shared with Rhett. “I wouldn’t spread that around if I were you. It might get someone in trouble.”
Helen’s mouth fell open then curved into a smile. “It was you, wasn’t it? You’re the distraction Rhett told Quinn about.”
“He doesn’t know it was...” Her voice faded at the memory of Rhett’s words after the explosion. I’m not leaving you, Isabelle. Her mouth fell open. He’d known who she was. For how long, though? Since before the kiss? Surely not or he wouldn’t have instigated it in the first place. Quinn’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. She glanced up at him, not liking the thoughtful, speculative look in his eyes one iota. “Isabelle, maybe you’d have more success in convincing him to sit down and let Doc take a look at his ankle.”
“I doubt it, but I’ll try.”
He wasn’t in the bucket brigade anymore, but one of the other men was kind enough to point her in the right direction. She was glad to find Rhett off his ankle even if it was only because he had to kneel to work the handle of one of the town’s outdoor water pumps. He didn’t seem to hear her call his name as he determinedly filled buckets for the other men. She placed a hand on his shoulder only for him to shrug it off without looking. “For the last time, Quinn—”
“Rhett.”
He glanced up. His eyes widened then filled with warmth. He released the handle of the pump. Someone else immediately took his place as he struggled to his feet. His ankle gave way as soon as he put weight on it. Isabelle quickly slipped an arm around his waist to brace him. “You need to let Doc look at your ankle. Let’s find you someplace to rest then I’ll go get him.”
His lips pressed together in a grim line, but he agreed with a single nod. She guided him toward an out-of-the-way spot nearby. He put his arm around her shoulder, but barely put any weight on her as he limped toward the raised wooden sidewalk nearby. He gave one final hop then turned to sit down. Catching her hand before she could leave, he tugged it gently. “Wait. Sit with me for a minute.”
A protest rose to her lips. Then she looked into his eyes. She saw the intensity there. She realized he wasn’t trying to put off being seen by the doctor. He wanted to talk about their kiss. What was there to say? It had been a simple New Year’s Eve kiss between friends. Nothing more, nothing less.
Then why were her cheeks burning? Why was her heart fluttering? Why was panic seeping through her body? She pushed away those emotions with a lift of her chin as she lowered her gaze from his to their joined hands. His grasp was gentle, easily breakable. Yet, it held her like a butterfly caught in a net. “Rhett, we don’t have to talk about this.”
“I think we should.”
She glanced around to make sure no one was within listening distance before sitting beside him on the sidewalk. “It was merely a kiss. A simple mistake prompted by a silly tradition. I don’t expect anything more to happen between us. You don’t have to worry about that.”
“You don’t expect anything more or you don’t want anything more?”
“Is there a difference?”
“Yes. A big one. I didn’t expect to kiss you tonight. That doesn’t mean I didn’t want to or wouldn’t want to again.”
Her mouth fell open. “Rhett Granger, I’m surprised at you. If you think—”
“Well, good. I’m surprised at myself, too. You saw me with Amy. I was constantly tripping over myself, saying all the wrong things, outright panicking. I’m always like that when things turn romantic, but that hasn’t happened tonight with you.” His amber gaze captured hers, his bemusement obvious. “Not even before the kiss. Not even now. I was hoping that meant something.”
She stared at him as disappointment battled for dominance with whatever strange emotion made her heart flutter. She’d intended to write the kiss off as a mistake, hoping it didn’t mean exactly what he was saying it did—Rhett was no different that her sister’s other suitors, or her parents, or the town. He saw her as nothing more than a substitute for the woman he’d loved and lost to another man. Only this was even worse because he seemed to particularly appreciate the fact that he didn’t find her as attractive as he had Amy. What other explanation could there be for why he didn’t get as nervous around her as he did with someone he was actually attracted to?
He shrugged and ran his fingers through his hair as some of his boldness faded into a bashful smile. “Besides that, I thought tonight was pretty special—before the explosion.”
Her heart softened at his words. She didn’t want to admit it, but there was no denying it. “It was special.”
Unfortunately, that didn’t change anything. As flattering as his interest was and as sincere as he seemed to be in comparison to her sister’s other former suitors, she would still never be Amy—the one he truly wanted. She wasn’t even the mysterious Cleopatra he’d approached in the ballroom last night. She was simply boring, ordinary Isabelle. Once he figured that out, he was bound to be disappointed. She’d save them both a world of trouble by putting a stop to this right here and now.
Yet, how could she while looking straight into the hope in his eyes? Besides that, he was still in the midst of losing his home. It didn’t seem fair or kind to rebuff him right now. If only there was a way to help him find the relationship he was seeking—one that didn’t involve her. She froze as a sudden flash of insight showed her a perfect way to help him and distract him from any ideas he might have about her.
Chapter Three (#ulink_2f56adc0-8a92-592d-b686-bf60c845df0b)
“Courting lessons?” Rhett couldn’t contain the skepticism in his voice even as his heart sank in his chest at Isabelle’s suggestion. He knew from past experience that nothing proved a woman’s disinterest more than her trying to foist him off on one of her friends. It didn’t make a lick of sense in this instance, though, because Isabelle was interested. He’d seen it in her eyes during that first tug of attraction on the hotel porch.
Furthermore, she could say all she wanted about their kiss meaning nothing. That didn’t mean they hadn’t felt something. He knew for sure that he had and, if her response in that moment was any indication, she had, too. Why, then, was she so eager to pass him off to someone else?
He searched her face for some clue. Perhaps his question was written across his expression, for a blush rose in her cheeks. Her lashes lowered to guard her eyes. “We, um, don’t have to call it anything official like that. I’ll just try to help you overcome whatever it is that makes you nervous.”
“Why?”
Her gaze shot to his. “Why what?”
“Why do you want to help me?”
Her mouth opened then closed. “It’s the right thing to do.”
He narrowed his eyes, sensing there was more to it than that. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was, so he guessed. “Are you sure it isn’t because my house is burning down and I twisted my ankle?”
“I’m sure.” A hint of a smile curved her lips at his doubtful look. “Well, that isn’t entirely the reason.”
“What’s the rest of it?”
“None of your business.”
She was definitely up to something. For some reason, he didn’t think it was entirely altruistic. He shrugged. “Well, it doesn’t matter. There’s no point in accepting your offer. The lessons wouldn’t work, anyway.”
“You don’t know that.”
Oh, but he did. Ellie had tried to help him and failed. Lawson’s advice hadn’t worked, either. The Bachelor List had been wrong. God seemed to have turned a deaf ear to his prayers for this area of his life. Then again, perhaps the problem was that he’d been depending too much on other people. Maybe he ought to see if there wasn’t something he could do to help himself. Something like courting lessons perhaps?
He sent her a sideways glance. “How would you be helping exactly?”
Her eyes went blank for a second. She blinked then smiled brightly. “Just leave that to me.”
“You have no idea, do you?”
“I have a few ideas.” She lifted her chin. “I need time to develop them.”
“Right,” he drawled.
She lifted a brow. “So you’ll do it?”
“How about you let me know what you come up with, and I’ll think about it?” That way he’d have an out in case he’d already tried whatever she came up with. There was no use repeating something that had already failed.
“Wonderful!” A delighted smile blossomed upon her lips before it eased into one of compassion. “I’m so sorry, by the way, about your house.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that you stopped me from going home early. More than my ankle might have been hurt if you hadn’t.”
Her eyes widened. “I hadn’t even thought about that. Oh, that reminds me. I was supposed to get Doc. Don’t move an inch, Rhett Granger. I’ll be right back.”
She kept her promise of returning quickly with the doctor. Quinn and Helen followed after them, along with a tall, bookish-looking gentleman with spectacles whom Rhett recognized as Isabelle’s father, Thomas Bradley. Everyone seemed to want to speak at once. Eventually, they all deferred to Doc Williams. “If his ankle is as swollen as I think it will be, we won’t be able to get that boot back on. It would be far better to have him settled wherever he’ll be staying while I examine him.”
Mr. Bradley nodded. “To the boardinghouse, then.”
“The boardinghouse?” Rhett glanced at the concerned faces around him in confusion.
Isabelle nodded. “We’re offering you a room at our boardinghouse. Isn’t that right, Pa?”
“It certainly is. Your first week with us will be free given tonight’s unfortunate circumstances. After that, you are welcome to stay on as a renter should you choose to do so.”
Helen’s empathetic gaze met Rhett’s and she nodded. “It would be a good alternative since you don’t want to live with me and Quinn. I felt right at home during my stay at the boardinghouse when I first came to Peppin. The Bradleys are wonderful people. I’m sure they’ll look out for you while you heal.”
“I definitely appreciate the offer.” He wavered about whether to insist on paying for all the time he’d spend there. Deciding he didn’t want to take the chance of offending the Bradleys by rejecting their kindness, he gave them a grateful nod. “What’s more, I’d be happy to accept.”
Quinn and Helen left to fetch Rhett some necessities. Isabelle led the way to the boardinghouse while Rhett followed with Doc and Mr. Bradley bracing him on either side. Rhett was ensconced in Mr. Bradley’s study by the time Quinn and Helen met up with them. They deposited the toiletries and other items gifted to Rhett by Johansen’s Mercantile before Doc shooed them out as he had the Bradleys. Rhett held back a groan as Doc carefully pulled the boot off.
After a thorough examination, Doc shook his head. “Well, Rhett, it doesn’t look like anything is broken. My diagnosis is that you have a severe sprain, which was probably made worse by your continued exercise on it during the fire. I’m going to leave a mild pain reliever with you. I’m sure my wife knows of a few natural remedies that will help you recover. I’ll send her by tomorrow.”
Doc’s tone turned as stern as his look. “The most important element of your recovery is rest. I want you to stay off your feet as often as you can for the next forty-eight hours. After that, you’ll need to use crutches for at least two weeks. You must allow the ankle to heal properly. Otherwise, you’ll be far more likely to sprain it again in the near future. Now, let’s get it wrapped and elevated.”
Rhett was silent as he let the doctor work. Inside, he felt far less compliant. He could manage two days away from work since one of those days would be a holiday anyway, but two weeks? How could he possibly keep the smithy closed that long? Yet what else could he do? How likely was it that he’d be able to walk back and forth between the forge and the anvil on crutches while handling metal hot enough to be malleable?
He shook his head. He’d have to take it one day at a time. Perhaps he’d recover more quickly if he was diligent in following the doctor’s orders and implementing whatever natural remedies Mrs. Williams offered. A few minutes later, he patiently listened to Helen’s admonishments to do exactly that. Quinn said his farewells and ushered his wife out of the room after urging Rhett not to worry. Mrs. Bradley bustled in to ask if he needed anything. She left a bell for him to ring if he changed his mind. Mr. Bradley gave him an old set of crutches he’d found in the attic and directions to the water closet should a trip be necessary. Finally, everyone went to bed and he was left alone with his thoughts.
They should have centered on the fire, his living situation, replacing his belongings, figuring out his work predicament or any number of things. Instead, his mind was filled with thoughts of one person—Isabelle. He punched his pillow and shifted around in a vain attempt to get comfortable. Why did he always do this to himself? Why did he always get his hopes up when he knew it never worked out? He’d truly thought this time was different. Not solely because he wasn’t nervous around her, but because she was something special.
Why hadn’t he realized that before? Perhaps he hadn’t been looking. He’d focused his attention on her sister because it had been easier to engage her interest—at least from afar. Isabelle was more of a challenge to get to know simply because she wasn’t quite as bold around men as her sister had been.
However, his relationship with Quinn and Helen had allowed him to spend more time with Isabelle. He’d found himself enjoying that time more and more.
She was interesting and witty. She didn’t mind his teasing and could give back exactly as much as he gave out. Yet, she seemed to have a sensible head on her shoulders—sensible enough to want to avoid a relationship with him. That was what she was doing, wasn’t it?
He assumed so. Although, he technically hadn’t asked to court her. She also hadn’t actually refused him. She could have easily made it clear that she would never have any feelings for him beyond friendship despite the kiss they’d shared. Instead, she’d simply changed the subject to finding him a different sweetheart—while holding his hand.
The more he thought about their conversation, the less sense it made. The more he thought about her, the less he wanted to give up on the idea of seeing where a romance with her could lead. Of course, he would never ignore the fact that she hadn’t agreed to a courtship. However, courting wasn’t the only way to get to know someone. They were living in the same house now. Surely, that would give them a chance to get to know each other better. Perhaps, after a while, she might be more open to the possibility of a courtship with him.
It seemed unlikely at this point. However, he’d do all he could to make it as difficult as possible for her to try to hand him off to someone else—even if that meant only being her friend for a while. He could be content with that. He could only hope he was right about actually having a chance with Isabelle one day.
If not, he was setting himself up for disappointment like never before.
* * *
Rhett had been right. Isabelle had no idea how to help him overcome his fear of women. She’d never call his problem that to his face. Essentially, that was what it was, though. She wished she’d been able to think of something other than courtship lessons to distract him from his interest in her. Taking responsibility for the success or failure of someone else’s love life was a lot to handle when she’d never even had one of her own.
