Page 9 of Miles. Alton & The 9:04 (Modern Mail Order Brides #19)

Thom smiled back at her, but he was currently smattered in human waste.

The train needed to get out of the station, and Petr Qwill was a spiky menace.

He didn't get an opportunity to check after his latest candidate since there were fires to put out, passengers to calm, and a policy to review on his calendar for first thing in the morning.

Currently, Thom had no idea it would take hours to get the matters at the station cleared, and four hours later, in a tee shirt from the gift shop, he made his way home.

After a hot shower, he would call Ms. Dootch and get the evening moving.

Surprise covered his face when he arrived home to find the Ford Expedition in his driveway along with a pop-up camper, which had been extended.

Further, he was also surprised to see the front door of his home open and music coming from inside the house.

Thom walked up onto the porch, slowly opening the front door and stepping inside to the smell of lamb searing.

The barely decorated home now had a tablecloth on the plain wooden table, dishes set for an intimate dinner for two, candles that were burning, and napkins in napkin rings.

A bottle of Pinot Noir rested next to crystal wine goblets.

An exuberant, apron-wearing Megan came from the kitchen with a bowl of steaming hot mashed potatoes.

“Well, hello, Thom. I hope you got everything settled at the station,” she said. “Dinner is pretty much done. Grab a shower and come eat.”

He blinked several times, attempting futilely to wrap his mind around what he was seeing. “This looks amazing, Ms. Dootch.”

“Megan, please. Ooh, mint jelly. I can't forget the mint jelly,” she said, pouring the wine for him to sniff. She also presented him with the cork. His eyes went to the nicely decorated table with dishes he didn't own.

“Megan, this is all lovely, but how did you get into my house?”

“The window in your bedroom was cracked, so I climbed in there,” she told him. “I also see you have a guest room. No need to pay for a B therefore, he ate the meal and put away the leftovers. He left her meal under a cloche on the counter for after she slept it off.

From his back porch, he looked down the railroad tracks of the former line for the 9:04. He maintained the tracks in hopes of one day having his special music event. In the meantime, he lowered his head in prayer.

“Lord, if this is meant for me, I accept your gift. If it is not, please show me what your plan is for me,” he said, closing the prayer.

He planned to let her sleep it off, then take her into town. If she wanted to sleep in her camper, he was okay with that too, but all of it felt...off. It was the offness of it that made him pause, and life had taught Thom at an early age that if it felt wrong, then it was not right.

“I'm going with that. It feels wrong,” he said, taking a seat on the patio.