The Wedding Cake War. Lynna Banning
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Название: The Wedding Cake War
Автор: Lynna Banning
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Историческая литература
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“Ish room number…” Her mind went blank.
Kellen waited, breathing less steadily. “Yes?”
“Jush look for my shoes. I left them jush inside the door. Have pointy toes and they pinch.”
He guessed he had no choice. He stepped along the hallway with his burden in his arms, testing doorknobs, until he found one that opened. Sure enough, a pair of black leather pumps leaned against the baseboard. He kicked the door shut behind him, walked to the bed and laid her on top of the quilt. She curled up like a kitten, folded her hands under her chin and was asleep in an instant.
Kellen’s chest did something funny, as if a ripple had zigzagged from his throat to his belly. What the devil?
He spent a good five minutes just staring at her, noticing the scattering of freckles across her nose, the loose dark hair, sneaking from the bun at the back of her neck, the faint laugh lines in the outer corners of her eyes. She sure looked different from Careen and The Peacock.
And she sure felt different when he held her.
Damn. He had to get out of here. Now. Either that or risk a scandal that would destroy Miss Mayfield’s reputation.
He’d send Careen down to check on her. And tomorrow…
Oh, God, the Helpful Ladies and their bride competition! Tomorrow it would all start in earnest. How adept could a newspaper editor from dry, windswept Kansas be at greensward croquet?
Chapter Five
Shielding her eyes from the bright sunlight, Lolly moved along the board sidewalk keeping each footstep as smooth as possible to avoid jarring her head. This morning, the mere tap of her shoes on the wood planks sounded like cannon fire.
There it was. Bodwin’s Mercantile. She pushed open the door and bypassed a bushel basket of apples perched on top of a pickle barrel. The thought of food, even a tiny bite of apple, sent her stomach into rebellion.
“Something I can do for you, miss?” The lanky man behind the counter wiped his hands on his denim apron and leaned toward her. He had a breakfasty smell about him, as if he had a grilled sausage in his pocket.
Lolly gulped. “Yes, I—”
“Got just about everything in stock ’cept skunk traps and silver-tipped walking sticks.”
“Do you carry ladies’ outerwear?”
He surveyed her with penetrating blue eyes. “New in town, aren’tcha?”
Lolly swallowed. “Why do you say that?”
“Well, now, ma’am. Anybody’s lived here more’n twenty-four hours knows Dora Mae Landsfelter.”
“Yes, I am acquainted with Mrs. Landsfelter.”
“Well, then, you know why we don’t carry ladies’ outerwear. Or un-outerwear, neither.”
“I’m afraid I don’t follow,” Lolly said. “What has your mercantile stock to do with Mrs. Landsfelter?” She sensed a story here, maybe an amusing one, if she could worm it out of the shopkeeper. She could use a bit of levity this morning; her head buzzed as if it were crammed full of angry grasshoppers.
The lean man chuckled. “Name’s Joshua Bodwin, ma’am. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“Leora Mayfield.”
“Oh, yes. You’re one of the brides. I recognize you from the reception last night.”
“You do?” She desperately hoped it was the first part of the evening, and not the last, which she had spent dangling from the arms of Colonel Macready.
“Yep. Kellen Macready pointed you out.”
“He did? What did he s-say?” Lolly’s voice cracked.
Mr. Bodwin grinned. “That you were partial to my applejack. I make it myself, don’tcha know. And deliver it to the hotel for their fancy do’s. I was hopin’ ’tweren’t too potent for womenfolk.”
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