Home to Roost_Bower, Colorado by Reina Torres

Author:Reina Torres [Torres, Reina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-07-24T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

Brigid startled awake and tucked her legs beneath her to peer out of a window. There was just a hint of light visible, letting her know that dawn was near. Scrambling from bed, she took a moment to right the covers and plump the pillows. She was nearly done when she paused, her hand smoothing over the soft pillow she’d laid her head on the night before. Giving in to an impulse she plucked the pillow from the bed and turned it over before bringing it to her cheek.

She leaned into the soft cotton and drew in a long slow breath.

Brigid blushed, but she didn’t move the pillow away. The scent was unique. It reminded her of wild grass and clean air.

She’d lived in a large town her whole life. She was used to the close press of people and buildings. Everywhere she looked, there was something new to see, but it was all man-made. Large glass facades faded into wide brick and wooden walls. Everything and everyone seemed to move with a rush of energy and intent. There was rarely a moment to stop and enjoy just being alive.

Coming to Bower had changed that for her. Just taking a step from the train onto the platform had been transformative, although she didn’t realize it at the time. With a rush of nerves coursing through her body, she’d only felt the eagerness to start a new chapter in her life, but that had changed when she’d found herself on the doorstep to Hampton House.

And again, when she’d woken to her first morning at Quinn’s homestead, her eyes seeing the tidy home she’d found herself in, she’d taken another breath and found the world a different place.

Brigid brushed the pillow against her cheek and sighed into the silence of the room.

Looking back on the day before, she’d found her idea of a rustic life had been turned on its head. Living in the woods didn’t mean long hours of inactivity, sleeping under a canopy of trees instead of a bed canopy. Instead, she realized she’d never know someone as industrious as Livingstone Quinn.

From what she’d seen of his efforts she’d been amazed, but that evening over a supper that he’d started at the same time he’d prepared a cold mid-day meal, she’d encouraged him to detail the number of things he had to do on a daily basis.

The conversation had been eye-opening, but what had made the biggest impact on her was how he saw all of his accomplishments as mere survival. To her, it had been a dream.

She had gone to sleep, tucked warm and safe in his bed, with a smile on her face.

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