Nick swallowed. She trusted him. Somehow, beyond all reason, she felt safe enough with him to allow him this small liberty. “Willa,” he repeated, that image of the willow tree in summer coming immediately to his mind again. “Nick,” he offered in return. “Nicholas, according to my mother, but everyone else calls me Nick.”
“It fits you,” she said. A moment passed as they made their way around another group of men outside a store, this one more intent on arguing amongst themselves. “You had a question for me?” she prompted.
“Yes.” He straightened and led her to the corner of the hotel. “Might I escort you to the ball on Friday?”
“Oh!” she exclaimed. Then her sweet smile dipped into a frown. “Oh, Nick. I’m so sorry, but Mr. Morgan has already agreed to escort me.”
Nick didn’t know who this Mr. Morgan was. All he knew was that some other man was going to command Willa’s attention for however much time it took for them to walk—or ride, if the man was decent enough to bring a carriage—from the hotel to the ballroom. Another man would give her his arm, take her hand to help her into the carriage, lead her onto the dance floor for the first dance.
The very idea made Nick feel like hitting something.
Instead, he wound his hands into fists and pressed them into the sides of his legs. “Very well,” he said, the words coming out a bit more coldly than he’d meant. He took a deep breath. It wasn’t Willa’s fault that she’d accepted this Mr. Morgan’s offer before Nick had even asked. She could hardly take it back, and he wasn’t sure what he’d think of her if she did.
“If it means anything, please know that if I hadn’t already said yes to Mr. Morgan, I’d agree to let you escort me.” She looked up at him plaintively.
Nick smiled at her. It did mean something. More than she likely knew. “Will you at least promise me a waltz?”
“I will.” The corners of her mouth lifted, and suddenly all was well between them again. “Thank you for walking me home.”
“It happens to be my home too,” he said as he led her to the door.
Her cheeks colored again, and Nick thought it was possibly the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. “I should’ve known that you’d taken a room at the hotel,” she said.
He stood inside the door, looking at her for a moment, the realization that they were indeed sleeping within the same building dawning on him. He cleared his throat to stop that line of thinking right in its tracks. “Please let me know how your father is doing. I’ll check in on Mr. Sterling tonight.”
“Thank you,” she said, before giving him one last smile and disappearing up the stairs.
He didn’t know if she was thanking him for asking after her father, caring for Mr. Sterling, or understanding that she had to accompany Mr. Morgan to the ball, but it didn’t matter. Not with that smile she gave him, and that promise of a waltz.
Chapter Thirteen
WILLA STEPPED OUTSIDEthe hotel with a hot breakfast boxed up for Leroy. The poor man had returned to guarding the wagons yesterday, and had hardly been able to leave since then. Amos was in good spirits when Willa visited him earlier, and he looked forward to returning to the livery in a day or two, provided Dr. Gatewood said it was fine for him to do so. Even Papa seemed better this morning, sitting up in bed without fever and talking to her without coughing too much. He said they might remain here in Creede for Christmas, given his condition.
And, of course, there was the little fact that Dr. Gatewood—Nick—had asked to escort her to the dance.
Willa smiled up into the flurries that drifted slowly down from the sky. She couldn’t accept, considering Mrs. Morgan had already arranged for her son to escort Willa, but simply knowing that Nick wanted to was enough to make it feel as if her entire body were lighter than air.
