Angel in My Arms Read Online Free PDF

you, Mrs. Tuttle."
    "Mrs. Tuttle," the reverend said. "Let me introduce you to John MacPhearson's son."
    Mrs. Tuttle fluttered her eyelashes as she always did with handsome, younger men, and she and Fox exchanged pleasantries.
    Celeste glanced up at the sky as thunder rumbled across the sky.
"We'd best be going, Mr. MacPhearson. I fear the storm is moving in
quickly."
    Celeste and Fox said their goodbyes and headed back through town,
taking the same route they'd come. Dusk settled over the empty streets.
A few stray dogs scuttled in the shadows. Piano music could be heard
faintly, though from where, one couldn't quite tell.
    "Creepy," Fox said.
    "What?" Celeste strode beside him, her petticoat swishing, her arm brushing his.
    "Mr. and Mrs. Reverend." He twitched his shoulders in a shudder.
"They're creepy the way they look at you with that holier-than-thou
air."
    Celeste laughed. "They're really very nice, both of them. It's a
minister's job to keep his sheep in the flock. They're harmless.
Besides, Mrs. Tuttle is the best cook in Carrington. If you think her
angel food cake is good, you should try her cherry cobbler."
    "Speaking of food, I'm hungry." He glanced at her. "Is there a hotel where we can dine?"
    She frowned. "The Green Glass burned to the ground last fall. It was
a beautiful place, three stories high with a muralled ballroom and
enough rooms to put up a hundred people, but Mr. Marvel didn't rebuild
after the fire. No one came to stay any more, anyway. I hear he moved
to Colorado Springs and opened a new hotel."
    "Surely there must be some place to eat." They circumnavigated a
battered rain barrel. The clouds overhead moved faster, and the rumble
of thunder grew louder and closer as if pursuing them.
    Kate's was the best place to dine, but obviously Celeste wasn't
going to suggest they go where customers would constantly be attempting
to buy her services. Celeste hadn't returned to Kate's Dance Hall since
John died, and many of her regulars had been asking for her. Celeste
knew she would have to return to Kate's soon, but she was trying to
stretch what little money John had left her to delay the inevitable. "I
have an idea," Celeste said brightly. "Come back to the house, and I'll
cook you a meal better than any you can find in Carrington."
    "I thought you said Mrs. Tuttle was the best cook in town," he teased. "Perhaps I should go there."
    She laughed and looped her arm through his and stepped off the end
of the plank sidewalk, crossed the rutted street, and stepped back onto
the walk. "Rack of lamb with fresh mint— the last of Mrs. Turtle's
spring lambs—new potatoes, and buttermilk biscuits. Will that suit your
palate, Mr. MacPhearson?"
    He placed his hand over hers where it looped through his arm. "Fox."
    She looked at him from beneath the rim of her straw bonnet. "Pardon?"
    "Call me Fox."
    She smiled. "Only if you'll call me Celeste."
    "You took such excellent care of John. I feel like I know you well. Like you immensely."
    She felt heat in her cheeks in response to his compliment. No one before had ever come right out and said they liked her.
    "There's no need for formalities between us."
    She said nothing. He was charming, this son of John's. She'd give
him that. Charming enough to have coaxed the pantaloons off many a
young lady, she guessed.
    "Fox?"
    "Celeste?"
    "Have you a wife?" John said his son had never married, but she
doubted he'd remained celibate. She wondered if he had a woman, perhaps
even a fiancee.
    He glanced at her sideways with sparkling dark eyes. "I do not. I'm quite available."
    She felt a curl of pleasure in the pit of her stomach and she cut
her eyes at him. His flirtation didn't pass unnoticed, and she felt a
strange surge of anticipation.
    "No fiancee, no woman you lavish with attention?" He glanced down at
the plank walk caked with dried mud. "There was, but… she's gone. Dead."
    "Oh." She knitted her brow. "I'm sorry."
    He waved his free hand as if he could skim over emotions