Read Online Shameful Celia (The Mail Order Brides of Boot Creek Book 3) by Carré White - Free Book Online

smiling.
    “I adore food, that’s true. It’s such a luxury.” His smile faltered briefly at that. “What I wanted to discuss with you is about food. If I had a cook stove, I could make my own things. I’ve got some money, and I can buy what I need at the grocers and mercantile. All that’s missing is a cook stove and some crockery. That way you wouldn’t have to spend all your money feeding me.” We were nearly at the restaurant.
    “Your room’s too small for a cook stove. It’s not built for it either. The pipe for ventilation has to be installed, and Mrs. Wexler won’t go through that expense. I suppose … I guess, you could use my stove.”
    That was one of the best ideas I had heard in ages. “I could.”
    “If … if you wanted to make meals.”
    A smile toyed around the edges of my mouth. “And eat whenever I wanted to.”
    “Yes, that does go along with having one’s own stove.”
    “I think I’ll take you up on that offer, Nick. That’s a mighty fine idea.” He held open the door to the hotel, while a man and woman passed through. The mention of the shortened version of his name did not seem to bother him. I preferred it, because Nicolas did not roll off the tongue as easily as Nick. However, his look was perplexing now, and I longed to know what he thought. “Did I say something wrong?”
    “No.”
    “Are you sure?” We hadn’t entered the building yet, but he continued to hold open the door, as more people went by. “Nick?”
    “Let’s go in. People are staring.” His hand remained on my back, as he steered me through the door. The touch sent a tingle down my backbone, the feeling sweetly pleasurable.

Chapter 8
    A fter breakfast , I spent the day on my own, but it was marvelous, because my mood had never been this elevated. I felt oddly happy, almost exuberant, cheerfully shopping for the things I needed to make several meals. Not knowing what staples Pastor Kinsley already had, I bought coffee, sugar, rice, and beans, along with some meat for tonight’s meal. I craved chicken dumplings, remembering how my mother used to make it, all thickened and bubbly in sauce. The meal would require a great deal of work, and I hurried to finish the chore, wanting to have everything ready before Nick returned from church.
    As I stood before his door with the packages in my hand, I realized he had not given me the key. I lifted the doormat, looking for it, but it was not there. Rising onto my toes, I felt along the frame, displacing a fair amount of dust in the process. The key sat towards the end, and I snatched it triumphantly. Entering his abode, it struck me how clean and tidy the space was; the bookshelves held neatly arranged volumes, and a stack of newspapers were in a basket. A small table and two chairs stood in the corner of the kitchen that remained open to the rest of the room. A burgundy sofa and a rocking chair occupied the remaining space, while a bedroom was through the only other door.
    Busying myself with the meal preparations, I hummed happily. Plenty of firewood was available to heat the stove, and he had an icebox, which held milk and eggs. A cupboard to the left brimmed with cans of preserves and supplies, in a good variety, with bags of flour and beans on the lowest shelf. Pots and pans hung from a wall, while a small sink stood upon a cabinet. I chopped onions and celery, until the aroma of cooking lingered in the air. By the time the dumplings floated in the stew, I had already straightened up the mess I had made and set the table, finding a candle to use in the center. Having nothing to do, but wait for Nicolas to arrive, I sat on his sofa and read a newspaper, feeling quite at home and content.
    When the door swung open, it startled me, and I jumped. “Hello.”
    Pastor Kinsley stared, equally surprised. “H-how did you get in? I never gave you the key.”
    “I found it over the door.” I gazed at him from the sofa, folding the paper in my lap. “I’m nearly caught