Mail Order Bride Mishap (Into the West #3)

Chapter 24

“Hey, Noah. And here I thought I was going to be the first one tonight,” Edward called out to his brother-in-law as he entered Cookie’s restaurant. It was a full week after his first argument with Fiona and the dressing down he’d received from his boss.

He and Fiona had come to an agreement after that initial quarrel, and for now it was working smoothly. They went to bed earlier at night, and fooled around earlier in the morning. He went downstairs first, allowing Fiona the chance to get ready for work, while he stoked the stove and made their breakfast. Once they’d eaten, Fiona cleaned up the breakfast dishes and he got ready for work. As long as they remained on opposite floors he managed to keep his hands to himself. But they’d come close a few times.

Now Noah turned from the coffee pot Cookie had set out for them and said, “You’ll have to get up earlier than that to beat me, Ed.”

Spying the twinkle in the wrangler’s eyes, Edward curled his lip. “Shut up, Lawson,” he replied without bite. “I suppose you heard from Emmie, who heard from Fiona?” He moved over to the coffee pot, poured himself a cup.

Noah cocked a hip and sniffed his brew with closed eyes. “The feminine rumor mill has been working overtime, an’ that’s a fact. Nothin’ you do or say is private, just so’s you’re aware, Ed. Even if I’d rather not know the particulars.”

“You an’ me both,” Edward answered, feeling his face heat at the thought of what Fiona might have divulged to his sister. He sure as hell didn’t want to know what Noah did with Emmie behind closed doors, so why did women feel the need to share all their private moments?

Noah clapped a hand on his shoulder now. “Don’t worry much, Ed. You’re not the first man to be reprimanded for bein’ late to work because of that, an’ you won’t be the last. Question is, was it worth the lecture?”

Edward looked up into his friend’s grinning face. Smirked back. “Every minute of it.”

They both laughed. “There y’ go,” Noah drawled, just as the restaurant front door opened again, admitting none other than Mr. Davis himself.

“Evenin’, gentlemen,” he said jovially, hanging his jacket on the coat rack with care. Rubbing his palms together, he glanced around the room and asked, “Where’s Cookie?”

All three of them moved toward the table set up for their poker game, pulled out chairs with a clatter and sat down.

“He’s havin’ a conference in the kitchen,” Noah said.

Edward frowned. “Who the hell does he know to conference with?”

Before Noah could reply, the front door blasted open and Chester entered.

“Whooo-ee, gonna be cold as a witch’s tit t’night, make no mistake,” he bellowed, struggling out of his damp coat and throwing it over Mr. Davis’s neatly hung top coat. The bank president winced at the sight. Chester turned toward Edward and the gang just as a light, feminine voice from the direction of the kitchen met their ears.

“Just sprinkle that on boiled potatoes, Brody, and I declare you’ll taste a difference straight away. Oh--”

Chester, Edward, Noah, and Mr. Davis exchanged looks with raised brows as the rest of what the unseen woman said became garbled in a rustle of clothes and unintelligible mutterings.

They glanced up as Widow Brown backed out into the dining area, one hand smoothing her neatly coiled hair as she stammered, “G--good evening to you, Brody.”

“Shee-it,” breathed Chester. “Think she heard me?” he asked the others, but none of them paid him any mind, their attention riveted on the tableau playing out before them.