“I meant what I said earlier.”
“About the stew?”
“No.”
She looked at him.
He had removed his hat.
Without it, his dark hair curled slightly from sweat.
Less foreman.
More man.
He leaned one hip against the table.
“I liked watching you prove them wrong.”
“That’s flattering.”
“I liked it too much.”
Her hand stopped.
“Caleb.”
“Yes?”
“You spent half the day doubting me.”
“I know.”
“Then another quarter threatening men on my behalf.”
“I know.”
“And now?”
He smiled.
“Now I’m trying not to say something that gets a pot thrown at me.”
Abigail almost laughed.
“What were you going to say?”
“That depends.”
“On?”
“How close you plan to stand.”
She looked at the distance between them.
Three feet.
She did not move.
Neither did he.
The charged silence from afternoon returned.
But different now.
No crowd.
No joke.
No urgency.
Just two adults beneath a lantern after a day that had stripped away several assumptions.
Caleb’s voice lowered.
“I was wrong about you.”
Abigail shrugged.
“Most people are.”
“That bother you?”
“Yes.”
The honesty surprised him.
She continued.
“I’ve spent half my life pretending it doesn’t.”
Caleb watched her.
“Why?”
“Because if I reacted every time someone decided I was stupid because I’m fat, or slow because I’m fat, or desperate because I’m fat, I’d accomplish nothing except dying angry.”
He did not flinch at the word.
Good.
Some people did.
They rushed to correct her.
You’re not fat.
As if denying visible reality counted as kindness.
Caleb only said, “You’re not slow.”
She smiled faintly.
“No.”
“And definitely not desperate.”
“Also no.”
His mouth curved.
“What about stupid?”
Abigail picked up the wet rag.
“Come closer and find out.”
He laughed softly.
Then, because he either trusted the joke or was reckless, Caleb stepped closer.
Abigail’s heartbeat changed.
“Careful.”
“You invited me.”
“I threatened you.”
“Frontier courtship is confusing.”
She laughed despite herself.
Caleb stopped less than a foot away.
The lantern cast warm light across his face.
He did not touch her.
That mattered more than if he had.
Abigail looked up.
He was watching her with an openness she had not expected from him.
“No audience,” she said.
“No.”
“No wager?”
“No.”
“You’re not doing this because thirty men suddenly like my stew.”
“No.”
“Then why?”
Caleb’s eyes softened.
“Because you walked three miles in Texas heat carrying twenty pounds of meat after I gave you five dollars and an impossible job.”
“That’s romantic?”
“No.”
He smiled.
“You came back and insulted Wyatt anyway.”
“That helped?”
“A lot.”
Abigail shook her head.