Nash followed, a huff coming from him when his head encountered the low roof. He lifted the lid on the nearest crate. “More canned goods. Looks like mostly beans.”
“I guess we won’t starve but?—”
He opened the second crate. “Well, well. What do we have here?”
She wanted to see what he’d found, but so little room existed except beside him. Swallowing back reluctance, she edged closer until they crowded together. She’d ignore him so she could assess the contents. “Clothes? What’s he doing with all these?” She removed the top item. “A suit jacket?” Setting it to the side, she looked at a number of articles. “All fancy-dress clothes.” Surprise erased her caution. “Are these his?”
Nash’s eyes caught the faint light. “I don’t know who else’s they’d be. Our Shorty is a mystery.”
“I would have taken him for a woodsman. Nothing more.” She shook off her presumption. “I should know better than to judge a person by appearances.” Mother and Preacher had drilled that into her. They meant it in a charitable way. But Addie took it further, always cautious of the possibility of something dark and sinister beneath the surface.
“Let’s check the rest of these supplies.” Nash pointed toward the other crates.
His arm brushed her shoulder, and she jerked awayand hurried toward the nearest box. Yes, he seemed like a kind man, but looks could be deceiving.
The lid came up easily, and she peered inside and broke into laughter. She lowered the lid before Nash saw the contents. “Guess what?”
His gaze went to the crate and then to her. Forgetting the low ceiling, he straightened and banged his head. He rubbed the injured spot and winked. “If I keep this up, I’ll be raising the roof.”
She widened her eyes. Even humor must not be allowed to overcome caution—nor a nice pair of eyes nor a generous smile.
“Let me guess. It’s more clothes. Fancy things.”
She shook her head.
“It’s not—” He shuddered. “Please, not more beans.”
“Yes. Mr. Bertrand will be so pleased.” The humor of their discovery filled her, and she laughed.
His chuckles rolled across the low ceiling.
“What’s going on in there?” The man in question called, annoyance sharpening his words.
Addie pressed her fingers to her mouth. “We shouldn’t be so pleased about his?—”
“Comeuppance?”
Although neither of them laughed, they shared amusement in their quick glances.
“One more crate.” Nash nodded toward it. Being closer, he lifted the lid and dropped it again before she could peek inside.
She groaned. “Not more beans.”
This time, he shook his head.
“What?”
“You’ll never guess.” He kept his hand on the lid.
“Let me see.” She tried unsuccessfully to open it.
“Guess.”
Crossing her arms, she squinted at him. “You said I couldn’t.”
“You might try.”
She studied him. He teased her, and she liked it. Very well, why not enjoy the moment? “Snakes? Empty whiskey bottles? A rock collection?”
