Part 9 (1/2)

”Well, it's delicious.”

She glanced over and he knew her thoughts. Cinnamon. Lord, he had it bad for this woman when he thought of nothing but kissing her, even when they were sitting in a restaurant surrounded by other people.

Too soon, the meal was over. Luke paid the bill and escorted the ladies from the building and brought the wagon around. Annie stood and he took her hand, walking beside her in the twilight as she made her way to the back of the wagon.

”Why don't I get a horse and see you home?” he said, not wanting to end their time together, even if they had no privacy.

Charmaine expressed her agreement and he helped Annie into the back and Charmaine up to the seat, then rode beside her as far as the livery.

He entered the stable and saddled Wrangler. ”We're goin' for a ride this evenin',” he told the animal, then led him out and tied his reins to the back of the wagon. He wanted only to climb into the back with Annie, but he did the gentlemanly thing and took the leads from her cousin.

Charmaine seemed a little subdued, and he appreciated a few welcome stretches of silence. Before long the Renlow ranch came into view beneath the darkening sky, a modest spread with good water and healthy stock. He pulled the wagon up before the house, and Mort came out the door.

Luke helped Charmaine down. ”Luke came home with us, Daddy.”

”Son.” Mort shook his hand.

”Mr. Renlow.”

Annie's uncle lowered her to the ground while Luke got her chair. She thanked her uncle and seated herself.

”The missus just made some fresh coffee,” Mort said.

”No, thanks,” Luke replied.

”She made raisin cookies.”

”Now I could probably tuck away a cookie.”

They headed for the house. Once again, Mort picked up Annie and carried her while Luke got her chair.

The Renlow place was s.p.a.cious and adequately furnished. They weren't well-to-do, but they were comfortable and their house was a real home. They were genuinely nice warm people. Vera Renlow brought a tray of cookies to the kitchen table and they nibbled and talked.

She offered a pitcher of cold milk and Luke accepted a gla.s.s.

He felt as though he'd broken through a wall that had been standing in front of him most of his life. A wall separating him and Annie. These people treated him as though he were any other person. They accepted him.

But then they weren't Annie's parents.

Charmaine behaved less silly in her home and in the company of her parents, and he actually saw a side of her he liked. She offered Mort more coffee and Luke more milk. She filled her father's cup with her hand on his shoulder. Mort gave his daughter an affectionate smile.

Annie seemed comfortable and at ease with the Renlows, too, exchanging banter and waving her hand at her uncle when he told a story about her thinking a baby rabbit was a baby pig when she was twelve years old.

”Well, they look the same,” she said, laughing. ”Those baby bunnies didn't have one lick of fur and their ears were short. Now, what would you think if you'd never seen one before?”

The question was directed at Luke, and he shook his head and grinned, saying, ”I think pigs are a little bigger, but then it's probably an easy mistake.”

”Well, Charmaine came carrying it to show me, and I didn't see its mother. It looked like a pig to me!”

Mort laughed again, and Annie cast him a mock scowl. ”You wouldn't want anyone to mention the time you climbed down the ladder and stepped into the paint bucket, would you?”

Vera got a laugh over that one and joined Annie in regaling Luke with the tale.

Their family and their easy camaraderie charmed Luke. As a boy, there'd been only him and his father, and as a youth it had been him and Gil, with no women in their lives. Women sure brightened a house...and a heart.

”How are you related to the Sweet.w.a.ters?” Luke asked conversationally. He couldn't imagine the Sweet.w.a.ter family being this unpretentious.

”Mort and Annie's mother are brother and sister,” Vera said.

”Oh. They don't-look alike.”

Mort and the girls said nothing. Luke glanced at them, hoping his question hadn't put a damper on the enjoyable evening.

Annie offered him her sweet smile.

”Both nice looking, though,” Luke said, and the others chuckled.

Mort smiled at Vera. ”My wife was the prettiest girl in Fairfax County. Now she has a little compet.i.tion, what with Charmaine and Annie here, don't you think?”

”It would be a three-way tie if I had to vote.”

Annie's uncle finished his coffee. ”You're a smart man, Mr. Carpenter.”

”I just know when not to hang myself.”

Mort chortled and pushed his chair back to stand. ”I'm turnin' in.” He offered his hand. ”Come back any time.”

”Thank you, sir.”

The older man started for the doorway, then turned back with his forehead creased in curiosity. ”Say, which of these young ladies is it you're callin' on, anyway?”

Chapter Six.

He'd been too quick to say he knew how not to hang himself. Mort Renlow's words had created the first tension he'd felt in this house since he'd arrived. What should he say? Did the man think that he might be coming around to see his daughter? The truth of how it must look hit Luke square between the eyes.

Of course he could think that. Luke had invited both girls for ice cream and then for dinner. While he'd been thinking that Charmaine's presence kept his and Annie's relations.h.i.+p respectable in public, others might have been thinking he was using Annie as a chaperon. The thought angered him momentarily. But Mort wasn't thinking any less of Annie; he just truly wasn't sure of Luke's intent and his question was honest.

For the first time, Luke considered Charmaine's feelings and felt like a heel. If Annie hadn't confided in her, then she might be thinking he was interested in her. All along, he'd a.s.sumed she'd known his attraction was for Annie.

Mort stood in the doorway, one hand on the frame, waiting.

Luke met Annie's eyes and read the panic behind them. He glanced at Charmaine, seeing a touch of color in her cheeks and an expectant lift to her eyebrows. No. Annie hadn't shared what had gone on between them. Why not?

He didn't know any other way than honesty, so he said, ”Charmaine is pretty and charming, and I'm sure the fellows will be flockin' around soon, but your daughter is a trifle too young for me, Mr. Renlow.”

Mort nodded as though that simple declaration was all that need be said. ”It's Annie, then.”