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“Shh,” he said again.
She took a deep breath, no doubt ready to unleash a world of aggravation on him, but he turned his back on her to walk into the house.
“Where are you going?” she asked, making to follow him.
Again, he held up that finger and shook his head at her. “You just…you juststay. Right there. And keep the goat with you.”
She glared again but dropped onto the rocking chair next to the one he had vacated, her arms crossed firmly over her chest. Lucille nudged Mercy’s leg until she reached down to give her a pet and then, with a last look at Gray, turned tail and wandered off across the yard.
Gray marched into the house and looked around. If Mercy was gonna go around grabbing at guns, he needed to find a good spot to hide the damn things. Only there didn’t seem to be a suitable spot. He’d never seen a house so clean and uncluttered in his life. He couldn’t put them in the couch cushions, or somebody was liable to get their ass shot off. He didn’t want to put it under her bed. That was just putting it more within her reach. He pushed open the door to the kitchen and looked around. A large basket that looked like it hadn’t been touched in a while sat in one corner, full of odd scraps of material and sewing supplies.
That would do until he found a better spot. He dug to the bottom of the pile and shoved the guns into it.
Infuriating woman. He didn’t like not having his guns on his hips. Felt damn-near naked without them. But if he was gonna retire and all, she was right. Wearing loaded guns to breakfast was a bit unnecessary. Might as well start this retirement thing right.
Of course, he’d already made a serious misstep on that front by agreeing to Mercy’s proposal. But he could try and lessen the consequences as much as possible. Not getting accidentally shot would go a long way toward that peace and quiet he was chasing so hard.
As he moseyed back out onto the porch, Mercy’s gaze narrowed on his empty holsters. She crossed her arms over her ample chest, and his head spun a little. Damn woman had probably given him food poisoning with her cooking. He’d have to keep an eye on her.
Chapter Five
Mercy hadn’t brought up shooting lessons again, but that didn’t mean she’d given up.
Gray may not like it, but he might have to actually do more than nap on her porch to get Josiah to go away. Frankly, she was surprised Josiah hadn’t tried something yet. Then again, it had only been a day since Gray had come wandering into their lives. And since Josiah hadn’t had the pleasure of watching Gray fall asleep on every surface he sat on for more than five seconds and move like a fly stuck in honey when he did decide to shuffle off somewhere, he was probably still playing it safe. For the moment.
She absolutely had to figure out a better plan soon, because the second Josiah and his men saw her ferocious gunslinger fiancé in action, they’d probably laugh until they peed themselves and then they’d come in and take what they wanted. And she’d be damned if she let anyone take what she’d worked so hard to build. Her orchard brought in enough on its own to pay for what little she needed, and quite a bit more. She had plans for her farm. Plans that did not include Josiah taking over and destroying everything she loved. She wouldn’t ever be beholden to any man. And to keep her independence, she needed her farm and orchard intact, under her control.
The familiar scent of charred meat drifted to her on the slight breeze through her open kitchen window.
“Damn,” she muttered, rushing inside to yank the pork chops off the stove.
She sighed. She wasn’t really a bad cook. Most of the time. She just got lost in her thoughts sometimes and forgot about whatever was cooking. And lately, she’d had a lot of concerning thoughts in which to get lost.
She opened the oven to remove the biscuits. At least they had turned out decently. She poked at one deep golden-brown lump. Mostly decent. Might be a bit dry, but it would taste just fine.
A snore echoed from the front porch and Mercy rolled her eyes. Gray was obviously not concerned about Josiah, but then he didn’t seem much concerned with anything. She, on the other hand, wanted to know what was going on. And she wasn’t going to find out by sitting at home waiting for Josiah or the sheriff to mount their next ambush. She’d also feel much better if more people than just Josiah and his men knew about Gray’s presence in their town. And on her team, as it were. It was harder to make a man disappear when there were people around to miss him.
So. It seemed a trip to town was necessary. She could use a few supplies, anyway, if she was going to be feeding the man three square meals and then some a day. A new needle and some thread wouldn’t be amiss, either. His clothes were definitely the worse for wear, and if she had to be engaged to him, she was going to clean him up a bit.
Mercy bent to have a quick look through her sewing supplies, stopping in surprise when she came across Gray’s guns buried in the basket.
She carefully extracted them, frowning as she considered what to do with them. The chambers were full. Who hid loaded guns? It would make much more sense to simply hide the bullets. Now what was she supposed to do with them? Give them back? Probably the sensible thing to do, but where was the fun in that?
She couldn’t stop the smile that formed when a thought occurred to her. She went out onto the porch as quietly as possible and tiptoed as close to Gray as she could. Then she raised a gun in the air and fired.
He came out of his chair with a yelp, knocking off his hat and overturning the chair in the process. His hands immediately went to his hips. She tried not to laugh at the utterly confused look on his face, though combined with hair that stuck out in all directions and his stammered half questions, it was a near thing.
“Misplace something?” she asked, holding the guns up, dangerous ends pointed to the side.
He glanced at the weapons, then up at the roof of the porch where a small hole rained dust down on him.
He brushed it out of his hair. “You shot a hole in your roof.”
“You can fix it later,” she said, handing him his guns. “Supper is ready.”
He took the pair and glared at her as she turned to go back inside.
“What happened to a dinner bell?” he called after her.
