Seven Day Mail-Order Bride

You Be' Kissin' Other Men

The kitchen smelled incredible.

Clara stood just inside the doorway, arms crossed, watching like she had wandered into something she absolutely did not belong in.

Elijah worked at the stove, steady and sure.

Noah moved beside him, quicker, sharper, like he had something to prove, or nothing left to lose.

Clara tilted her head.

"I would like it noted," she said, "that in my world, I am considered a fully functioning adult."

Elijah didn't look up.

"That so?"

Noah did.

"Do you cook?"

Clara lifted her chin.

"I have mastered toast."

Elijah blinked once.

Noah huffed a quiet laugh.

"She don't cook," he said easily, turning back to his work. "When she was with me, I did all of it."

Clara froze.

Just for a second.

Then pushed past it.

"Well," she said lightly, "then you were clearly the more useful one."

Elijah snorted.

"That a challenge?"

Noah didn't even look at him.

"Not if it's already settled."

Clara bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.

She stepped closer, peering into the pan.

"You both cook like this?" she asked. "Because I'm starting to feel like I made an excellent life decision."

Elijah slid a bowl toward her.

"Sit."

Clara didn't argue.

"Gladly."

She took a bite.

Paused.

Then blinked.

"Oh."

Elijah leaned slightly closer.

"Well?"

Clara pointed her spoon at him.

"You've been holding out on me."

Noah leaned back against the counter, watching her reaction.

"Told you," he said.

"You told me nothing," Clara shot back.

"I didn't have to," he said. "You've got eyes."

Elijah sat beside her, his arm settling along the back of her chair.

Easy.

Comfortable.

Possessive without trying.

"You like it?" he asked.

Clara nodded, taking another bite.

"I like it a lot," she said. "I'm feeling very confident in my decision to marry for survival."

Elijah chuckled.

"Good reason as any."

Noah's gaze drifted to her.

Lingered.

Then,

his leg pressed lightly against hers under the table.

Not an accident.

Not enough to call out.

Just there.

Clara's breath caught, barely.

She looked down at her bowl.

Didn't move away.

Elijah kept talking, completely unaware.

"We'll keep you fed. You won't have to worry none."

"Clearly," Clara said, a little too quickly.

Noah's mouth curved faintly.

Elijah glanced between them.

Missed it.

"You're safe here," he added simply.

That landed differently.

Clara looked up at him.

Softened.

Then forced a smile.

"Good," she said.

A quiet settled.

Warm.

Full.

Clara set her spoon down.

"So," she said casually, "what's tomorrow look like?"

Elijah shrugged.

"Work. Same as always."

Noah didn't answer.

Clara didn't look at him,

but she felt it.

That shift.

That awareness.

"Clara," Elijah said, standing and taking her bowl, "you don't need to worry about any of that. You just got here."

Clara nodded.

"Right," she said lightly.

But her fingers tapped once against the table.

Thinking.

Planning.

Noah pushed off the counter.

"I'll check the barn."

Clara's head lifted just slightly.

"Good idea," she said.

Too smooth this time.

Elijah didn't question it.

"Don't be long."

Noah glanced at Clara.

Not long.

Not obvious.

Just enough.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Clara stood a second later.

"Well," she said, stretching lightly, "I should probably not be trusted near anything flammable."

Elijah grinned.

"That's a safe assumption."

Clara smiled,

then slipped out the door.

Right behind Noah.

The barn was cooler.

Quieter.

The late sun filtered through the slats in long golden lines, dust drifting slowly in the air.

Clara stepped inside.

"Noah?"

A hand caught her wrist.

She barely had time to react before he pulled her deeper into the shadows, into a narrow space between stacked hay and the wall.

"Shh," he murmured.

Clara blinked up at him.

"Are we hiding from cows now?"

"From anyone who might wander in."

His body shifted closer.

Not touching.

Not quite.

Just enough to block the open space behind her.

Clara's breath hitched.

"Oh," she said. "So this is strategic hiding."

"Exactly."

A faint smile.

"Talk."

Clara nodded quickly, forcing her thoughts back into order.

"Okay. I looked it up. Abilene doesn't last."

Noah's expression sharpened immediately.

"How?"

"Violence," she said. "Guns. Cattle rustlers, maybe more than one group. It spirals fast."

His hand came up, bracing lightly against the wall beside her shoulder.

"Timeline?"

"Seven days," she said. "Maybe less."

Noah swore under his breath.

"And names?"

Clara hesitated.

Then pushed through it.

"You," she said quietly. "Elijah. The Jenkins. Others. I didn't recognize all of them."

His jaw tightened.

But he didn't interrupt.

"Routes?" he asked.

"That's the problem," she said. "The article didn't give enough. Just that they come through cattle trails. Likely scouting first."

Noah leaned in slightly.

Closer.

Too close.

"Then we find them first."

Clara nodded.

"Yes. Or scare them off before they think this place is worth hitting."

His hand shifted, brushing her arm as he adjusted.

Not necessary.

Not accidental.

Clara sucked in a breath.

"Noah."

"Mm?"

"Focus."

"I am focused."

His fingers skimmed her elbow.

Clara narrowed her eyes.

"You're not."

He leaned in just a fraction more, voice lower.

"I can do both."

Clara let out a soft, disbelieving laugh.

"This is important."

"So are you."

That,

did not help.

At all.

Clara shook her head, trying to reset.

"Okay. We need information. Who trades through here? Who's been asking questions? Anyone new, "

His hand slid lightly along her waist as he shifted.

Clara broke off.

"Noah."

"What?"

"That is distracting."

His mouth curved.

"Didn't seem to bother you before."

Clara felt heat rise to her cheeks.

"That was different."

"How?"

"I wasn't planning to save a town at the same time!"

He huffed a quiet laugh.

"Fair."

His hand didn't move.

Clara stared at him.

Then laughed again, softer this time.

"You are impossible."

"And you came anyway."

She shook her head, trying not to smile.

"I need you to take this seriously."

"I am."

This time, the humor faded.

Just enough.

"Clare... I know this matters."

That landed.

Clara exhaled.

"Good."

A beat.

Then,

"We start with the trails," she said. "If they're coming, they'll watch first. We need to, "

She reached out, tracing a path across his chest without thinking.

"Here," she murmured. "They come in along this line, then split, "

Noah didn't look down.

He watched her.

Watched her fingers move over him like she belonged there.

His eyes darkened.

Slowly, he caught her hand.

Lifted it.

Pressed her fingers to his lips.

His other arm tightened, pulling her in just a little closer.

Clara's breath hitched.

"Noah, "

"Noah. Stop kissing my wife."

Both of them froze.

Noah didn't step back.

Didn't move away.

If anything,

he shifted just enough to place himself between her and the open barn.

Between her and Elijah.

"She came to me," he said evenly.

Clara shot him a look.

"Not helping."

Elijah's jaw tightened.

"Clara. Step away from my brother."

Clara took a breath.

Then pushed against Noah's chest, slipping out from the shadows into the open space.

The air felt different there.

Clearer.

Safer.

She moved straight to Elijah.

"This is not what it looks like," she said quickly.

Which,

given the situation,

sounded exactly like what it was.

Elijah's gaze flicked past her.

To Noah.

Then back.

"Looks like my brother forgot whose wife you are."

Clara squared her shoulders.

This was the moment.

"Just trust me," she said. "Please. I know this looks bad, but we're trying to stop something. Something big."

Elijah didn't answer.

"Seven days," Clara pressed. "That's all we have before this town gets hit. Hard. You, him, everyone."

Silence settled.

Heavy.

Elijah's eyes flicked to Noah.

Then back to her.

"You expect me to believe that?"

Clara lifted her chin.

"Yes."

A beat.

Then softer,

"Or don't. And Noah and I will handle it ourselves."

That landed.

Hard.

Noah's gaze flicked to her,

then he grinned.

Just slightly.

Elijah exhaled slowly.

Like a man standing at the edge of something he didn't understand,

didn't trust,

didn't want to believe,

but couldn't ignore.

"...you got a plan?" he asked, voice rough.

Clara didn't hesitate.

"Working on one."

She stepped forward.

Between them.

No more hiding.

No more pretending.

Her voice steadied.

"But we start now."