Read Lisa Plumley for Free Online Page A

me ?”
    She nearly had to use her soup ladle to close her gaping jaw. The very notion was dumbfounding. And thrilling too!
    “Yes. You’re going to be very important to me, Miss Benson. I can feel it.” Pausing to study the visitors to the charity kitchen, Cade Foster stepped into place beside Violet. Adeptly, he handed a bowl of soup and some bread to the next person in line. The poor woman who received it nearly fainted with glee at being served by him. He didn’t seem to notice her obvious ardor. “I’d like to become equally important to you, if you’ll let me.”
    Violet flashed him a dubious look. She might be hopeful, but she was not an imbecile. Nor was she especially naive.
    “You could have the company of any woman in town.” As proof, Violet gestured to the other volunteers. To a woman, they were gazing swoonily, chin in hand, at Cade Foster’s handsome countenance. All three of them sighed. One waved. “Do you expect me to believe that of all the ladies in town, you are interested in me? I know what I look like, Mr. Foster. As a minister’s daughter, I can’t bring you a fine dowry, either. So—”
    “I’m not asking for your hand in marriage.” He seemed disturbed by her rebuttal and maybe a mite perplexed, too. “Is there someplace we can talk about this privately?”
    Violet shook her head. As much as she wanted to be more venturesome, she did have obligations to consider. Besides, thinking about adventuring was not the same as doing it.
    “Not unless I quit work,” she said, “and that’s—”
    Impossible , Violet meant to say.
    But before she could, her fellow volunteers interrupted.
    “Very easily done!” one of them said.
    Chattering and smiling, they stripped Violet of her soup ladle. They untied her apron and smoothed her upswept hair. They filled in her place in line, then all but shoved her forcibly out the door with the gambler. At that, Violet couldn’t help forgiving them their unkind gossip earlier. She wasn’t a woman who held a grudge. No doubt they’d simply been surprised that she’d been so popular with Mr. Foster last night...and today.
    That made four of them. Because she was surprised, too.
    “Go on!” one of her friends urged cheerfully. “You work all the time! If anyone deserves a break, Violet, it’s you.”
    “Yes. Have fun.” Another friend winked. “We’ll take care of everything here. Don’t you worry about a thing. He’s a gambler, isn’t he? So why don’t you take a chance for a change? On him !”
    So, with no further avenue of protest available to her and with Cade Foster standing patiently nearby, Violet did just that: she took a chance...on a gambler.
    * * *
    Sitting beside Cade on a narrow bench outside the charity kitchen next to a sweeping ponderosa pine tree and a branching rivulet of the nearby creek, Violet Benson shook her head.
    Plainly surprised, she asked, “You want me to do what ?”
    Cade didn’t answer at first. He simply felt too distracted by what she’d said earlier: I know what I look like, Mr. Foster.
    That admission was telling. It was, as Cade was rapidly learning, characteristically direct, too. If he’d been a crueler man, he would have used Miss Benson’s feelings about her appearance to gain an advantage. As it was, Cade could only examine her through clear eyes, wondering what it must be like to live as Violet Benson did: plain featured and overlooked.
    Unexpectedly, a kinship arose inside him. He knew what it felt like to be overlooked—to be left behind. He didn’t want that for her or anyone.
    Of a certain, Violet’s pale red hair was not quite as stylishly arranged as the other ladies’ was. Her complexion was a mite too ruddy to be called fashionably pale. Her teeth sported a gap in front, and her nose was too assertive to be considered strictly “pretty.” But her hazel eyes were vivacious, her mouth was full and gentle looking, and her hands...
    Well, her hands stirred in Cade an unlikely wish