Page 45 of Texas Glory
Houston groaned and rubbed his stomach. “I’m too full. I intend to sit back and relax for a while.”
“Thought you wanted these rooms,” Dallas said.
“We do, but we can finish them up next Sunday.”
“It’ll be that much hotter next Sunday,” Dallas said as he stood. “I’m going back to work.”
Cordelia watched her husband jerk his shirt over his head as he stomped back toward the house.
“One day, Austin, you’re gonna learn when to keep your mouth shut,” Houston said.
Dallas hefted a board and carried it to the far side of the house. He’d grown tired of hammering the floor into place. Houston and Austin could finish it when they woke from their naps. They’d both fallen asleep beneath the scraggly boughs of the tree—Houston with his head nestled in Amelia’s lap, Austin with Maggie curled up against him.
Cordelia simply sat in the shade, her hands folded in her lap—looking beautiful.
He wondered if she’d given everyone, except him, permission to call her Dee. Not that he had asked … nor would he, but Dee sure rolled off his tongue a lot easier than Cordelia. He thought Dee suited her better, was softer.
He set the board upright against the side of the house and nailed it into place. Sweat rolled along either side of his spine. He was looking forward to a good hot bath this evening.
He set another board into place and began to pound the nails into the wood.
A good hot bath in his house. In his big house.
He spun around and froze. Cordelia stood beside him, holding a ladle of water. Fear plunged into her eyes.
“Amelia thought you might be thirsty.”
“Not very neighborly of her to send you into the lion’s den, but I appreciate the water.”
He took the dipper from her trembling hand and downed the clear liquid in one long swallow. His gaze riveted on hers, he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth before handing the dipper back to her. “Thanks.”
He lifted another board and set it against the frame.
“About your house—” she began.
“I’ll build you another one,” he said as he lined up the board. “Makes no difference to me.”
“Actually, I rather like it.”
He glanced over his shoulder. She was gripping the ladle tightly enough to make her knuckles turn white. “You do?”
She nodded jerkily. “Uh, I think it’s a bit stark … uh, I mean, I think it would seem more friendly if you had some decorations—”
“You mean like knickknacks?”
“And perhaps some paintings or wall hangings. Maybe a flower bed in the front. I could give you a list of ideas—”
“No need. Just do it.” He crouched and set a nail against the board.
“What if you don’t like what I do?”
“Apparently my taste in things isn’t to everyone’s liking.” He hit the nail. “I’ll trust your judgment. I’ve got a Montgomery Ward catalogue in my office. Order what you need from there or go to Oliver’s general store and get it from him.”
Standing to position another nail, he looked over his shoulder, expecting her to comment, but she was staring, eyes wide, at the area where they’d eaten their meal. Dallas peered around the edge of the board. Houston had apparently woken from his nap, angled his body over his wife’s, and was enjoying his dessert: Amelia’s sweet lips.
“It’s not polite to stare,” Dallas said as he pounded another nail into place.
“But they’re … they’re …”
