Love on the Line - Deeanne Gist [62]
“Okay, but don’t fill up.”
“I won’t.”
“Georgie?” He touched the unit, willing her to hear him before she pulled the plug.
“Yes?”
He let out his breath. “Don’t change. I like that dress.”
“All right.”
He dropped his hand. “Bye.”
“Bye.”
She hesitated before finally disconnecting them.
Chapter Nineteen
Luke hadn’t been nervous when he’d disarmed a cold-eyed gunslinger in an El Paso saloon. Nor when he’d charged the hideout of the notorious Miller Gang. Nor when he’d single-handedly subdued a mob.
But as he tied Honey Dew to Georgie’s hitching post, his hands shook, his forehead beaded with sweat, and his mouth went dry. He blew out a long breath. It was just a woman. And she was tiny as a cricket bug.
He wiped his hands on his legs. When he’d changed out of his work clothes, he’d automatically put on another pair of overalls. What would she think when she saw him? That he held so little regard for her, he wouldn’t even don a pair of trousers?
But the loose overalls provided him an edge of anonymity—maybe not for someone who knew him well, but certainly for those who might have seen him from afar. Lucious Landrum dressed in top-quality clothing made to exact specifications. If someone in town had ever glimpsed him, they wouldn’t reconcile that man with Brenham’s overall-clad telephone man.
But were he to wear pants and shirt, it might be just enough to spark recognition. That was a chance he couldn’t take. Even for Georgie.
He let himself through the gate half expecting to see her waiting for him at the screen door. But not only was she nowhere in sight, the front door was shut. He couldn’t remember it ever being closed before.
And it was blue. Between it, her yellow siding, green bench, and red swing, she had most every color in the rainbow up there. Taking a deep breath, he opened the screen and knocked.
The door opened immediately. A burst of cinnamon wafted about them. Her face held no smile, no dimples, no laugh lines. Only wide eyes and a delectable mole. He followed the line of her jaw. A black lace ruffle lining her yellow collar tickled her chin.
He stuck both hands in his pockets. “You ready for some ice cream?”
“Let me grab my wrap.”
“Are you cold?”
“No.”
“Then I wish you wouldn’t. I’d rather you not cover up your dress.”
She turned to face him, one hand on her hip, head slanted to the side. “What is it about this dress you like so much?”
It makes your cheeks pink. Your lips lush. Your curves prominent. And the fringe on its yoke moves every time you take a breath.
“I don’t know. I just like it, I guess.”
“Well, let me at least put on my hat.”
“You wear hats?”
“Of course.”
“I’ve never seen you in a hat.”
“That’s because of my earpiece.” She slipped inside her bedroom, then returned a couple minutes later wearing a straw hat with a filmy covering and clusters of yellow and maroon blossoms.
It completely changed her looks. Not better or worse, just different. Her eyes seemed larger, her lips fuller, her mole smaller.
“I’m sorry about my overalls,” he said. “It’s all I have.”
She tugged on her gloves. “I know.”
“You do?”
“I’m the telephone operator. I know everything.”
He offered her his arm. “God checks in with you, does He?”
“We talk all the time.”
Chuckling, he assisted her down the steps and out to the street. A nondescript brown bird winged past them.
“What was that?” he asked.
“A mockingbird.”
He gave her a sharp glance. “You can’t know that.”
“They have a white band on the end of their wings making them easy to spot.”
He looked the direction it had gone, but it was nowhere in sight. “How long have you been a birdwatcher?”
She shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. Since I was fourteen, I think?”
“What made you take it up? A nest of hatchlings outside your window? A maidenly aunt taking you on a birding expedition?”
“Nothing that lovely, I’m afraid.” The golden fringe along her epaulets and yoke rocked with each step. “My mother married a man with a wicked temper. The forest was my refuge. It was there I discovered birds.” Her voice was matter-of-fact.