“No. Actually I’m her aunt, but I’m her only parent.”
Dr. Hendricks nodded. “I suggest liquids for the rest of the day, no solids. Let her go to sleep, but wake her a few times during the night. If she begins vomiting, send Michael to come get me.”
Tori walked with the doctor, their heads together as he gave her further instructions.
Jesse took a deep breath, glad everything turned out all right. He returned to his partially finished building, and stood for a minute. No longer in the mood to work, maybe a visit to one of the new saloons was in order. Something to calm his frayed nerves.
A few weeks later, Jesse leaned against the pantry doorframe in Tori’s kitchen, chewing a cookie, his legs crossed at the ankles. “You know, you laid this house out all wrong.”
Tori didn’t have time to heed him attention as she rushed from the oven to the table with trays of cookies. Lately, she’d seen more of him than she did the children. Didn’t he have a law office to run?
“Will you please get out of my way?”
He scooted aside as she grabbed a bag of flour from the pantry.
“Just trying to help, ma’am.” He glanced over her shoulder. “Wow, look at all those sacks of flour.”
Tori plopped a heavy bag on the table. “It’s payment.”
“For tutoring?”
She nodded as she scooped a cup of flour. “Right now, I’m well stocked with eggs, cheese, milk, butter, and chickens.”
“I haven’t had breakfast, you know.” That lazy grin of his started the butterflies in her stomach again. Even if she had time for a man’s attentions, which she didn’t, this fine looking rapscallion would be the last man she’d consider. To her way of thinking, male charm—and Jesse had plenty—meant heartbreak.
“If you truly wanted to help, instead of just stating your opinion and giving off not so subtle hints about the state of your empty belly, you wouldn’t stand in my way when I’m trying to work.” She bumped him with her hip as she slid the cookies off the tray and onto a plate. “And helping would not be telling me something about my house after it’s done.”
“You should have consulted me before Michael put it up.”
“I didn’t realize designing homes was another of your talents.” She wiped her forehead with her sleeve, and bit her cheek to keep from grinning. He looked like a little boy, hair falling over his forehead, and eating the cookie by chewing around the edges in a circle. She let out a breath of air. Jesse Cochran was no little boy, not the way he filled out those denims.
He brushed the crumbs from his hands. “I wouldn’t mind a cup of coffee.”
“The restaurant is next door, Mr. Cochran,” she sang out as she pounded her fist into a fresh batch of dough, annoyed for noticing how his shirt stretched tightly over his chest and shoulders.
The next afternoon Tori rolled out the crust for her last apple pie, this one for the family’s supper, while Rachel worked on math at the table. Jesse sauntered through the back door. “That’s a fine lookin’ sign you have posted at the train station about your tutoring, but it’s not big enough.”
She slapped his hand as he reached for a cookie. “Don’t you have a law practice to attend to? Someone to sue? And keep your hands off my cookies. If you want to eat, go next door to The Café.”
“Oh, another thing.” He snapped his fingers. “I want to study your teaching contract before you sign it. I’d hate to see you taken advantage of.”
With floured hands, she pointed to the door. “Get out.”
“I’m just trying to help.”
“I know all about teaching contracts. Now go. I have work to do.” She pushed him toward the door and smiled with satisfaction at the white handprint decorating the back of his dark jacket.
Why did the man plague her so? She couldn’t have made her disinterest any plainer. His type always flattered you, played up to you, and then rode off into the sunset just when you were getting comfortable. Hot flashes and butterfly stomach aside, she’d not encourage him. She would not fall for that again.
Tori jumped when Rachel slammed the book closed. She looked at the girl with raised eyebrows. “Ar
e you finished already?”
“Yes. I’m finished.” She gathered up her papers.
“Wait a minute.” Tori dried her hands on a towel and reached for Rachel’s notebook. The young girl crossed her arms and tapped her foot.
Tori flipped through some pages. “This isn’t all the work I gave you.”