Read Online Debra Ullrick by The Unintended Groom - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: The Unintended Groom
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routinely followed thoughts of his sweet Allison.
“Are you all right, Harrison?” Abby’s hand settled on top of his arm.
His gaze drifted toward it. The gesture, meant to comfort him, sizzled his arm with her feminine awareness. A feeling he knew all too well. When he’d first met his wife, the same thing had happened to him back then, and he’d married her. Stunned at the correlation and its impact on him, he abruptly stepped to the side, allowing Abby’s arm to separate from his. “I’m fine.”
One look at her face and he knew he hadn’t fooled her, her disbelieving frown told him as much. “Why don’t we go and celebrate?” he asked to keep her from questioning him a second time. “Pie and coffee. My treat.” He pulled his attention from her and settled it on the town before them. “Who here makes the best pies?”
Her sigh was audible as she pointed to a sign hanging several doors down from the hall. “Lucy’s Diner. Her pies are exquisite. Almost as good as my mother’s. Her pie crust is so flaky and light, it barely holds together.”
“Sounds like my kind of pie. Shall we?” He offered her the crook of his arm. Big mistake that turned out to be. That same heat sizzled up his arm again, only this time he refused to let his mind dwell on it or its implications. Instead, he reminded himself that he was here for the sole purpose of securing his inheritance for not only his sons’ sake, but for the sake of the unfortunate people back in Boston who his father had greatly wronged. A quick glance at Abby and he needed to add one more reason to the mix. After meeting Abby and seeing just how much she wanted this business to succeed, he wanted to do everything in his power to make her dream come to fruition, as well.
They strolled down the boardwalk, their footsteps echoing underneath them. When they reached the steps that separated one building from the other, Harrison glanced down at the muddy ground, then at her delicate gown, and contemplated what to do. If she was his wife, he would swing her into his arms and carry her across, but she wasn’t. And yet, how could he do nothing and allow a lady to soil her garment. “If you will permit me, I would like to carry you across the mud.”
Abby blinked as if he’d gone daft or something. “Thank you. But no. I can walk. I was raised on a farm. I’m used to mud. A lot of it.” With those words, she hiked her skirt and tiptoed through the thick mire to the other side.
Harrison stared at her back. No Bostonian lady would have ever done that. In fact, they would have insisted Harrison call for a servant to carry them across or that he lay his coat down for them to walk on. Abby was nothing like those ladies. She was more like Allison in that way, too. Realizing what he was doing, he reprimanded himself for comparing Abby to his deceased wife.
They arrived at Lucy’s Diner. Harrison opened the door for Abby. Apples and cinnamon filled the air.
Abby headed to a table by the window, and he followed, holding her chair out and waiting for her to be seated before he took the chair across from her. His gaze slid around the room at the informal, homey establishment. The sparkling-clean place was small but not cluttered. It was also void of patrons, which had him wondering why since according to Abby, it served the best pie in town.
“How fortunate we are that we missed the morning breakfast rush.” Abby answered his unspoken question.
A petite, slender woman in a bright yellow dress with a stained apron over it bustled toward them. “Abby! It’s so nice to see you again. Couldn’t stay away, huh? You come back for some more of my strawberry-rhubarb pie? I made a fresh batch this morning. There’s three pieces left. So if you want one, you’d better grab a slice before the next rush of customers comes barreling in. You want coffee with that pie, or tea? Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t even ask. Maybe you don’t want strawberry-rhubarb today. I have
“Are you all right, Harrison?” Abby’s hand settled on top of his arm.
His gaze drifted toward it. The gesture, meant to comfort him, sizzled his arm with her feminine awareness. A feeling he knew all too well. When he’d first met his wife, the same thing had happened to him back then, and he’d married her. Stunned at the correlation and its impact on him, he abruptly stepped to the side, allowing Abby’s arm to separate from his. “I’m fine.”
One look at her face and he knew he hadn’t fooled her, her disbelieving frown told him as much. “Why don’t we go and celebrate?” he asked to keep her from questioning him a second time. “Pie and coffee. My treat.” He pulled his attention from her and settled it on the town before them. “Who here makes the best pies?”
Her sigh was audible as she pointed to a sign hanging several doors down from the hall. “Lucy’s Diner. Her pies are exquisite. Almost as good as my mother’s. Her pie crust is so flaky and light, it barely holds together.”
“Sounds like my kind of pie. Shall we?” He offered her the crook of his arm. Big mistake that turned out to be. That same heat sizzled up his arm again, only this time he refused to let his mind dwell on it or its implications. Instead, he reminded himself that he was here for the sole purpose of securing his inheritance for not only his sons’ sake, but for the sake of the unfortunate people back in Boston who his father had greatly wronged. A quick glance at Abby and he needed to add one more reason to the mix. After meeting Abby and seeing just how much she wanted this business to succeed, he wanted to do everything in his power to make her dream come to fruition, as well.
They strolled down the boardwalk, their footsteps echoing underneath them. When they reached the steps that separated one building from the other, Harrison glanced down at the muddy ground, then at her delicate gown, and contemplated what to do. If she was his wife, he would swing her into his arms and carry her across, but she wasn’t. And yet, how could he do nothing and allow a lady to soil her garment. “If you will permit me, I would like to carry you across the mud.”
Abby blinked as if he’d gone daft or something. “Thank you. But no. I can walk. I was raised on a farm. I’m used to mud. A lot of it.” With those words, she hiked her skirt and tiptoed through the thick mire to the other side.
Harrison stared at her back. No Bostonian lady would have ever done that. In fact, they would have insisted Harrison call for a servant to carry them across or that he lay his coat down for them to walk on. Abby was nothing like those ladies. She was more like Allison in that way, too. Realizing what he was doing, he reprimanded himself for comparing Abby to his deceased wife.
They arrived at Lucy’s Diner. Harrison opened the door for Abby. Apples and cinnamon filled the air.
Abby headed to a table by the window, and he followed, holding her chair out and waiting for her to be seated before he took the chair across from her. His gaze slid around the room at the informal, homey establishment. The sparkling-clean place was small but not cluttered. It was also void of patrons, which had him wondering why since according to Abby, it served the best pie in town.
“How fortunate we are that we missed the morning breakfast rush.” Abby answered his unspoken question.
A petite, slender woman in a bright yellow dress with a stained apron over it bustled toward them. “Abby! It’s so nice to see you again. Couldn’t stay away, huh? You come back for some more of my strawberry-rhubarb pie? I made a fresh batch this morning. There’s three pieces left. So if you want one, you’d better grab a slice before the next rush of customers comes barreling in. You want coffee with that pie, or tea? Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t even ask. Maybe you don’t want strawberry-rhubarb today. I have
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