Branding the Virgin (Cowboys & Virgins 1)

When I come out of the pantry, I scream. Caught off guard by a young man who looks to be about my age or maybe in his early twenties. I’m still a few days shy of my twentieth.

He holds his hands up at my shriek.

“Sorry, ma’am. I was just coming in for the first-aid kit.” He wiggles the kit he has in his hand. “Barbed wire got his calf.”

“Sorry, you just scared me. I didn’t expect anyone.”

He gives me a crooked smile. “So the boss went through with it. Got himself a wife.”

“That’s me,” I confirm, though we aren’t married yet. I go over to the sink and pull out a dish towel I saw in the drawer, wetting it with warm water.

“You might need this.” I hand him the towel.

“You’re mighty small.” His eyes run over me like I’m hiding size somewhere. I am small. I’m barely five foot two, and I used to have a little more meat on my bones, but when money runs tight so does food.

“I think I can handle my chores while still being small.” I reply, not sure where he’s going with this.

“Oh, I’m sure you can. I just meant…” He looks back at the front door like he suddenly wants to leave and not finish what he was saying.

“Well?” I push, wanting to know.

“I should really go.” He backs up out of the kitchen, first-aid kit in one hand and towel in the other, before he darts out the front door. And I stand there, wondering what he meant.