“Ah,” Davy said, “what fortunate timing for you that was.”
When Thatcher didn’t respond, and no one else spoke, Laurel turned to the twins. “The night isn’t getting any younger, and you have deliveries to make.”
As boss, she really gave them no choice except to depart. With noticeable reluctance, they retreated to their truck. As they got in, the backward glances they gave Thatcher were blatantly hostile.
As soon as their truck had cleared the drive, Laurel turned to face Thatcher, feeling hostile herself and ready with an accusation of snooping.
He, however, got the jump on her. “Kind of late to be making deliveries, isn’t it? Where are they off to?”
To equivocate would only make them all look guilty. “Ranger.”
Obviously he was familiar with the town’s reputation. His eyebrow arched. “That explains the hardware they’re carrying.”
“To be used only in self-defense.”
He looked skeptical of that. “They go all the way up there to deliver pies?”
She resisted the impulse to rub her damp palms against her skirt. “It’s worth the trip. The markup per pie is three times what I get here. Seems every roughneck has a sweet tooth.”
“And a taste for other things, too.” He waited a beat, then said, “Are the O’Connors always on edge like that, spoiling for a fight?”
“Yes, especially with each other.” She gave a soft laugh.
Thatcher didn’t join in. “What were you doing at Lefty’s roadhouse today?”
She couldn’t conceal her astonishment over his knowing that, and it robbed her of speech.
“So it was you he saw.”
Although her mouth was dry, she attempted to swallow. “Who saw?”
“Chester Landry.”
“Who is… Oh, your friend with the plastered hair.”
“He’s no friend of mine, Laurel, and I don’t think he’s one to you, either.”
“I don’t even know him.”
“Well, he knows you, and he made a point of telling me about your visit to the roadhouse.”
“Why would he do that?”
“I’m wondering that, too. Why would he?”
Trying not to appear bothered by his probing stare, she shrugged. “Would he need a reason? He knows we’re acquainted. He saw me today and mentioned it to you in passing.”
“Un-huh. He climbed three flights of stairs, huffing and puffing, to tell me.” He came forward, crowding in on her, but she held her ground. “What the hell were you doing at Lefty’s?”
“What business is it of yours?”
He lowered his head, bringing his face to within inches of hers. “Asking for another demonstration? I warned you not to dare me.”
The thought that perhaps she was subconsciously angling for another kiss mortified her. Relenting on her resolve not to back away from him, she did, but only by one step. “I went out there to implore them not to give the sheriff Irv’s name.”
“Them?”
“Lefty and that horrid woman, Gert.”