Short Straw Bride. Dallas Schulze

under his touch.

      “If I could have a towel?” he suggested gently.

      “Get Mr. McLain a towel, Eleanor,” her aunt snapped immediately.

      There was an awkward silence when Eleanor had vanished into the kitchen. Luke found himself wondering why his mother’s lessons on etiquette had never covered what a man should say when he found himself wearing a slice of pie and knowing that the cause of the disaster was sitting right next to him looking as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.

      “I can’t tell you how sorry I am that this happened, Mr. McLain.” Dorinda’s voice was heavy with mortification.

      “No need to apologize, Mrs. Williams. Accidents can happen.” He let his gaze settle on Anabel, who looked back at him without the smallest trace of guilt or remorse in her pretty blue eyes.

      Eleanor returned and Luke scraped cherries and pie crust off his chest and into the towel she’d brought. Aside from his shirt, there was no real damage done. Once the towel was disposed of, he fixed Eleanor with his best smile, the one that had generally succeeded in getting him just about anything he wanted from a woman.

      “I’d still like a slice of that pie, Miss Eleanor.”

      She gave him a grateful look and reached for the pie plate, but her aunt spoke before she could touch it. “I’ll serve the pie. I’d prefer to avoid another scene.”

      Eleanor flushed and moved around the table to sit down, her hands in her lap.

      “Anabel, my dear, please pass this to Mr. McLain.”

      “Yes, Mama.”

      Anabel took the plate from her mother and turned to Luke, who eyed her warily. But she set the plate in front of him, giving him a sweet smile in the process. She turned that smile on her cousin. “You see, Eleanor, all it takes is a little care.”

      Luke saw Eleanor’s dark eyes flash with anger. She knew as well as he did just who was to blame for spilling the pie. He waited, wondering if he was about to see a display of temper, but she only drew a deep breath and looked down at the table.

      His expression thoughtful, he picked up his fork. She had a temper but kept it under control. That was a good thing in a wife. As he’d told Daniel, he didn’t want a wife who was prone to throwing fits. The more he saw of her, the more she seemed a likely candidate for marrying.

      Besides, she baked the best darned cherry pie he’d ever sunk a tooth into.

      

      “It was just awful, Letty. It looked like I’d shot him with a shotgun, only it had been loaded with cherries instead of buckshot.” Eleanor’s face flushed at the memory.

      “It doesn’t sound like he was upset.” Letty Sinclair picked up the teapot and filled both their cups.

      “He was nice as could be,” Eleanor agreed. “And that little cat, Anabel, sat there with a smug little smile on her face. I just wanted to shove her headfirst into a mud puddle.”

      “Or a cherry pie,” Letty suggested.

      “That would have spoiled her mood,” Eleanor agreed, smiling at the thought of Anabel with a faceful of cherry pie. Her smile faded. “Luke must think I’m clumsy as a bull at a tea party.”

      “Luke?” Letty raised her eyebrows at the familiarity.

      “Mr. McLain,” Eleanor corrected herself with a guilty blush.

      “I’ve seen him and his brother in town a time or two even before I met them at church last week,” Letty said. “They’re both very attractive men. You could do worse than to set your sights on one of them.”

      Eleanor choked on a mouthful of tea. “Me? Set my sights on a man like Luke McLain? I’d be making a total fool of myself.”

      “I don’t see why.” Letty’s pretty chin set stubbornly.

      “What would a man like that see in a dab of a girl like me? Ouch!” She cried out more in surprise than pain as Letty rapped the back of her knuckles with the silver spoon she’d picked up to stir her tea. “Why did you do that?”

      “Because you sounded just like your aunt Dorinda,” Letty said, showing not the least sign of remorse. “You’re not a dab of a girl, Eleanor Emmeline Williams.”

      “I’m hardly statuesque, either.”

      “Haven’t you ever heard that good things come in small packages?” Letty stirred her tea and fixed her friend with a stern look. “You’ve lived with that harpy of an aunt and that nasty little cousin of yours too long.”

      “I haven’t had much choice,” Eleanor muttered. She took a sip of tea, savoring the rich flavor of it. When Aunt Dorinda made tea she always skimped on the tea leaves, turning out a watery brew more reminiscent of dishwater than a beverage.

      Good tea was only one of the many pleasures she took in visiting Letty Sinclair. Letty was her dearest friend. She’d moved to Black Dog three years before to take care of an elderly uncle. When her uncle passed away, leaving her a small house and a comfortable inheritance, Letty had stayed on. There were those who were scandalized by the idea of an attractive young woman living alone, but the fact that Letty Sinclair could always be counted on to donate both time and money to any worthy cause kept the whispers to a minimum.

      She was a widow, after all, the ladies of the town comforted themselves. Though she was young, it wasn’t as if she were a single girl living alone. Letty’s husband had drowned when the wagon he was driving overturned in the midst of a river he’d been trying to ford. A widow at twenty, Letty had welcomed the opportunity to leave Ohio and all its painful memories behind and move west to care for her great-uncle Lazarus.

      Letty and Eleanor had met at church and become fast friends almost immediately. Letty was the one person in Eleanor’s life with whom she felt completely at ease, the one person with whom she could share her dreams and her fears.

      “I’ve decided to marry Andrew Webb,” Eleanor announced abruptly.

      “What on earth for?” Letty set her teacup down and frowned at her friend.

      “Because I don’t want to spend the rest of my life as Aunt Dorinda’s unpaid housekeeper.”

      “You don’t have to marry Andrew Webb just to avoid that. I’ve already told you that you could come live with me. We’d have such fun, Ellie. You know we would.”

      “You know as well as I do that it would never do.”

      “I don’t know any such thing.” Letty’s fine brows drew together and her soft mouth set in a stubborn line. “I have a spare bedroom just sitting empty. And if it would soothe that annoying pride of yours, I could even hire you as my housekeeper. Since there’s not much house to keep, we’d have plenty of time to enjoy ourselves.”

      But Eleanor was already shaking her head. “Can you imagine what people would say about two young women living alone together?”

      “I’m a widow. How could anyone complain if I choose to hire a companion?”

      “A companion even younger than you are?” Eleanor asked, raising her brows.

      “I ought to be able to have any companion I want,” Letty said stubbornly. She caught Eleanor’s eyes and sighed. “Oh, all right. You’re right and I’m wrong. But I don’t have to like it.”

      “I thank you for the offer.” Eleanor smiled at Letty’s disgruntled look.

      “Even if you can’t come stay with me, I don’t want you to marry Andrew Webb just to get away from your aunt and uncle,” Letty said after a moment.

      “I don’t see that I have much choice. I’ve no skills with which to earn my own living. He seems like a kind man and his children need a mother.” Even to her own ears, Eleanor sounded less than excited and she forced a