Short Straw Bride by Dallas Schulze Page B

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 theprocess. 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