“Spending my evening with a bunch of drunks does sound tempting, but in this instance, lunch will do me just fine.” Though Charlotte had said it, Matthew had his own opinions on her visiting.
Marching out to tell her so, however, failed spectacularly. Once she heard the sound of the general store door creaking open behind her, Charlie tossed Nathaniel a final playful sneer and sauntered off without so much as a glance at him.
Chapter 3
When noontime came, Charlie arrived at Devil’s Hollow Roadhouse. Local farmers and country boys alike sat about the checkered tables, sipping jars and smoking, growing quiet when a woman strolled in.
Eli, bitter to be put to work sweeping floors, failed to notice. Neither did Nathaniel, who sat at the counter staring forward with glazed eyes, just about three sheets to the wind. It didn’t seem to bother her none, Charlie slipping onto the stool and nodded towards where Matthew watched her in the mirror above the grill.
Her voice was sweet, maybe even a touch timid. “Good afternoon, Mr. Emerson.”
“Well, hot damn!” Nathaniel, full of trouble, grinned right at her. “If it isn’t Miss Charlie.”
“Lower your voice, Nathaniel,” Matthew growled over his shoulder. “You’re making a damn fool of yourself.”
The golden girl ignored the brothers, peering around Matthew’s body to see just what was cooking.
Glancing over his shoulder, Matthew grumbled, “You want somethin’, Miss Elliot?”
“Hmmm?”
Nathaniel put his lips back to the rim of his jar. “I wish she’d look at me the way she’s eyeballing your cooking, Matthew. Fix the girl a plate already.”
As economic in movement as he was in speech, Matthew slapped chicken fried steak before her. A cup of steaming coffee followed.
With the first bite, flaunting rather unladylike grunts of satisfaction, Charlie said, “Dear God, Matthew, I could kiss you.”
Nathaniel chuckled, loving every second of watching his baby brother’s ears turn red.
After she’d devoured the whole damn thing, the eldest asked, “Have you enjoyed sittin’ and lookin’ at things?”
Straightening up as if she hadn’t been practically licking her plate clean, Charlie grinned. “More than I can say.”
He leaned his elbow on the counter, eyes mischievous. “And just what have you been sittin’ and lookin’ at?”
For
the next fifteen minutes, she rattled off a list of scenic places she’d discovered—everything from a deep woods swimming hole to the best place to stargaze.
Though he never turned to face her, Matthew listened to each word, darting glances at the engrossed woman’s reflection.
“Lots of deer ‘round these woods. I’ve been thinking of going hunting but…” Her tongue tripped, as if she realized how utterly inappropriate it was for a woman to say such a thing.
Matthew turned from the grill, looking at her like she was nuts. “You hunt?”
Color crawl up Charlie’s face. Reaching for the cup of coffee, she mumbled something unintelligible into the mug.
“Damn, Matthew,” Nathaniel chuckled, rubbing the bullet wound in his shoulder. “We already know she hunts.”
With a polite deadpan, Charlie asked what was owed, put the money on the bar, and left.
“Have fun sittin’ and lookin’,” Nathaniel shouted while Matthew reached across the bar to smack his loud-mouthed brother upside the head.
* * *
Despite the rocky beginning, lunch at Devil’s Hollow became Charlie’s Saturday ritual. After a week of bland food at the boarding house, she would sit at the counter, bantering with Nathaniel while stuffing her face. When Eli caught on, he too made a point of laughing with Miss Charlie, chatting her up until Matthew would bark at him to get back to work.
It was the same each visit: Nathaniel bleary-eyed, halfway through a jar, Eli doing chores, both boys pleased to see her. Matthew might have spent his time scowling, but he always had a plate of something for her to eat, ready at noon on the dot.