Love on the Line - Deeanne Gist [119]
“I see.” She clasped her hands to keep them from trembling.
His lips thinned. “I guess I’ll see myself out.”
Striding to the hat rack, he grabbed his hat, then slammed out the door.
She collapsed onto the couch as if she’d been a marionette and her strings had all been severed. Placing her hands over her face, she curled up and sobbed. She was so confused. What if he decided to quit courting her? It was just a kiss. What harm was there in a kiss?
Drawing in a shuddering breath, she swiped her eyes. There wasn’t a thing wrong with a kiss. But if he quit courting her because she held them back, then his reasons for coming around would be pretty clear.
If, however, he continued to seek her out and spend his evenings with her, knowing full well the only “reward” he’d receive for his efforts would be her company, well, that would also be telling.
Sniffling, she drew her knees up more tightly. The longer she lay there, the more peace she had about her decision. She wanted to know if she was enough for him as is. If she was, he’d be back. If she wasn’t, then she’d rather know now, before her heart was any more engaged.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Luke couldn’t find Duane and Necker. The longer he looked, the angrier he became. What if something were happening tonight? What if the gang decided to rob a train while he was twiddling his thumbs at Georgie’s house?
He never should have started calling on her. What had he been thinking? He’d come to Brenham to do a job. Finish a job. The captain had made it clear, this was his last chance to collar Comer. If he failed again, he’d be pulled off the hunt and Harvey would take over.
Well, that wasn’t going to happen. Luke would find Comer and bring him in, with Duane, Necker, and whoever else was involved. Georgie had made him soft. Distracted. He’d even begun to feel sorry for Duane.
Well, no more. He was done fooling around. He wanted that gang and he wanted them now. And the minute he found Comer, he’d make his arrests, then hightail it out of here.
The thought of never seeing Georgie again tried to make itself known, but he knocked it aside. She was nothing but a Nellie Bly devotee who played typical female games of catch-me-if-you-can.
He checked every saloon in town, the feed store, the ten-cent show, and even the brothels. Now he methodically walked up and down the alleyways, the full moon riding low in the sky and turning everything into tintype gray.
Flies buzzed around heaps of garbage, while rancid odors assaulted his senses. A dog whose skin hugged his ribs saw Luke and skittered off in the opposite direction. A couple of drunks propped themselves up against the brick siding toward the end of the passageway, one gesturing with his bottle in grandiose movements.
Luke slowed his steps. It wasn’t just a couple of drunks, it was Duane and Necker.
“Well, lookee here, Duane. Look who’s come ta call.”
The two of them laughed at Necker’s attempt at humor.
Resting his head against the building, Duane squinted. “You look mad enough ta eat the devil with his horns on. Somethin’ wrong?”
“I’ve been looking for you,” Luke answered, his tone sharp.
“Now, Duane,” Necker slurred, “don’t ya be believin’ that sorry excuse. You and I both know he usually shows up fair to glowing after his little nightcap with Miss Georgie.” Holding the neck of his bottle, he swiped his mouth with his sleeve. “What’s the matter, Palmer? She too tired to dance the coochee-coochee fer ya tonight? Have a headache instead?”
Luke snatched the man clear off his feet. The bottle crashed to the ground and shattered. “Keep a civil tongue in your head when you talk about her, Necker.”
“Hoo, would ya listen ta that? She sure got yer spurs tangled, don’t she?”
Reining in his temper, he set Necker down, cursing himself for letting her interfere with his work yet again. “I guess she does. Sorry about your whiskey. Come on and I’ll buy you another one.”
Necker clapped him on the shoulder. “Ya can