“You’re all buttoned up,” he whispered.
Laurel laughed low and deep in her throat. “Of course I am.”
“Hmm.” Call raised one hand to her modest neckline and deftly undid the uppermost button. Encouraged because she didn’t slap his hand away, he unfastened another. Then another. His fingertips lightly brushed her skin.
She shivered, and when he dipped his head to touch the hollow of her throat with his lips, Laurel held him there, her fingers threading deeply in his hair. If he had invited her to lie down in the buckboard, she might have taken him up on it, but she opened her eyes just then and saw Artemis was preparing to shove her nose against Call’s back.
“Your lady’s jealous,” she said, batting Artemis away. Call groaned softly, which made her smile, and he sat up. “She’s not happy with you.”
“The feeling is mutual,” he said wryly. Turning, Call stroked the mare’s nose and spoke nonsense to her before he pushed her away. He leaned over the bench seat and stretched to reach his hat. By the time he put it on and faced Laurel again, she was buttoned up and had the reins in her hands. “This isn’t over.”
Laurel offered up a slightly wicked grin. “I sincerely hope not.”
33
Laurel accepted the stack of plates Mrs. Lancaster gave her so she could begin setting the table.
“You’ve come undone,” said the cook.
Laurelhadcome undone, but she didn’t think it showed. How did Mrs. Lancaster know? “What do you mean?”
The cook wiggled a finger at the bodice of Laurel’s dress. “Your buttons.”
Looking down at herself, Laurel saw that although she’d buttoned up, she had missed one. There was a gap where a button should have been. She set down the plates and fixed the problem. “Thank you.”
“Makes a body wonder.” Mrs. Lancaster gave her a significant, knowing look. “You were secure as a vault when you left here. I would have noticed different, you going to visit the sheriff, and all.”
“If you think unbuttoning was in aid of tempting Sheriff Carter, then you have another think coming. I didn’t even see him. Well, I did, but he’d been drinking and was sleeping it off in one of the cells. Did you know he was a morning drinker?”
“Oh, no. I won’t be put off as easily as that. I know Call went after you and I saw the two of you arriving together. As I said, it makes a body wonder.”
Laurel pursed her lips and said primly, “You just keep on wondering.” Picking up the plates, she headed to the dining room.
Mrs. Lancaster called after her, “And you tell that man to pick up his own socks the next time he beds down with you.”
That stopped Laurel in her tracks so abruptly, she almost lost the plates. She thought she should probably be more embarrassed than she was, but if her face was flaming, it was because she was considering murdering McCall Landry. The cook was still talking at her from the kitchen and she was trying not to listen.
“It’s your job to train him right from the beginning. You start out as you mean to go on.”
A slow, painful death.
It was only much later that she considered Mrs. Lancaster’s reaction and found it remarkable. No censure. No questions about her intentions or his. In fact, the cook’s comments were edged with amusement as if she were just that much pleased. It made a body wonder.
Laurel was back in her work clothes by the time supper was served. Only Jelly mentioned it. “You still look right fine, though,” he added quickly lest she take offense.
“Thank you, Jelly.” Hank and Dillon received one of her pointed, narrow-eyed stares when they snickered. “You two could learn a thing or two about complimenting a woman, you know.”
“But you’re our boss,” said Hank. Beside him, Dillon nodded earnestly.
“Not me,” she said. “Anywoman. Your sisters or your mother, for instance.”
The brothers wrinkled their noses.
Mrs. Lancaster set a basket of hot biscuits on the table. “As long as you don’t apply to Call here for instruction.”
“Hey,” said Call, taking umbrage. “I know how to give a pretty compliment.” He helped himself to one of the biscuits and held it under his nose, sniffing deeply. “This, for instance, is pure ambrosia. Food of the gods. You, Mrs. Lancaster, are surely an angel for setting it in front of us, undeserving sinners that we are.”
Pleased, the cook dimpled. “Ah, go on with you.”
