He took the stack from the boy, who looked disappointed. “Just saving you a trip.”
“If I were twenty years younger, I’d take it myself.” Charlie chuckled. “Can’t say as I blame you, Sheriff.”
Davis Lee grinned, not bothering to correct the man’s assumption that he was romantically interested in Josie Webster.
A few minutes later, Davis Lee stood at the hotel’s registration desk, loaded down with four bolts of fabric. “Penn, I’ve got a delivery here for Miz Webster,” he said loudly. “Is she here?”
“I believe so.” The man’s wizened features creased in a smile. “You working for Charlie now, Sheriff?”
“Just helping out.”
“She’s in room 214.”
“Thanks.” Davis Lee started up the scratched pine staircase, his boots scuffing the freshly swept wood.
“No, no, that’s not right, Sheriff,” Penn said. “She’s not in that room anymore.”
Halfway up the staircase, Davis Lee turned.
“She’s in room 200 now. I forgot she asked to move a couple of days ago.”
“Why would she do that?”
“Said she wanted a room at the front of the hotel so she could have a view while she sewed.”
Davis Lee’s eyes narrowed. That was why he hadn’t seen her in the alley since that encounter a couple of days ago. Since he already thought she was hiding something, this news made him even more determined to find out what.
“Thanks, Penn. I’ll get this stuff up to her.” He reached the top of the second-story landing and turned to the right, going down the hall until he got to the last room. A room he knew had a bird’s-eye view of town. And his jail.
She answered his knock right away, her eyes widening when she opened the door. “Sheriff!”
He couldn’t tell if it was surprise or dismay he heard in her voice.
Her hair was down, sliding around her shoulders in a silky curtain of rich brown with a shy touch of red. She recovered, her green eyes cool and unreadable. “You have my fabric.”
“I told Charlie I’d deliver it since I was coming over anyway.” He’d forgotten just how deeply green her eyes were. And how tiny her waist.
She stared at him for a minute. Long enough for her sweet, fresh scent—honeysuckle?—to slide into his lungs. Long enough for him to deduce by the way her lavender skirts clung to her legs that she wasn’t wearing petticoats. At least not more than one. A heat he hadn’t felt in a long time worked its way under his skin.
He cleared his throat. “You want me to put this down somewhere?”
She blinked. “Yes. Sorry. Come in.”
She opened the door wider and he walked inside, noting she left the door open. Which was a good thing seeing as how he had also just determined she wasn’t wearing a corset, either.
“I— You can just put them on the bed.” Her voice was breathy.
Davis Lee walked over to the neatly made bed that was pushed into the far corner of the room. Two lengths of fabric, one white and one calico, were folded neatly at its foot. He laid the new bolts next to them.
The room was bigger than most of the others in the hotel, but not grand by any means. On the wall beside the bed was a plain dressing table with a wall mirror and washbasin. A waist-high dresser backed against the wall across from the foot of the bed. The middle and right side of the room was empty except for a length of calico spread across the floor. A pair of scissors lay on top as if her cutting had been interrupted. A chair sat at the partially open window facing town.
He didn’t have to walk over there to confirm that she had a clear and close view of the jail, but he did. A short lacy curtain hung at the top of the window and he ducked his head to keep it out of his eyes. Yep, sure enough, this window provided a direct view to the jail. And anyone going in or out.
“Uh, thank you for bringing the fabric. You certainly didn’t have to do that. I’m sure you have things you need to get back to.”
The shimmer of unease in her voice had him leaning one shoulder against the window frame as if he had all day to spend. So far he hadn’t seen anything in here except fabric and furniture. And her. “You gettin’ settled in?”
“Yes.” She offered him a tentative smile, staying over by the door.
Her gaze dropped to his badge and he got the distinct impression she was wishing him gone. “Penn said you changed rooms.”
“I— Yes.” She gave a stiff laugh. “I wouldn’t think that would merit him giving a report to the sheriff.”
“He just mentioned it. Any reason why he shouldn’t?”
Her gaze searched his, her fingers tangling in the folds of her skirt. “Of course not.”
He hooked a thumb into the front pocket of his trousers. “Interesting that you would want to move.”
“I don’t know why.” She shrugged, leaving the door to walk over and snatch a lavender ribbon from the top of the dresser. She pulled her hair back and secured it with jerky movements.
He tried to ignore the way her bodice pulled taut across her breasts. “It’s noisier in this part of the hotel.”
Her chin angled slightly. He had obviously come for a reason besides delivering her fabric. “I like noise.”
“You’ve got a view of the whole town from here.” His gaze slid down her body then back up, his eyes glinting.
Under his hot scrutiny, her pulse hitched. “I—I like to have something to look at while I’m working.”
He stroked his chin. “Like me.”
“I did not change rooms to watch you!”
He grinned and she felt a slow pull in her belly. “I meant I like to have a view while I’m working, too.”
“Oh.” Heat flushed her face. The man flustered her six ways to Sunday. And he was entirely too amused.
She wanted to get his handsome self out of here. “I hardly see what you find so fascinating about the whole subject.”
“Don’t you?” he asked softly.
That set off a flurry of panic in her stomach and it wasn’t due strictly to the fact that he might know the real reason she had moved into a room overlooking the jail.
Curling her fingers into her damp palms, she asked tartly, “Is changing hotel rooms against the law, Sheriff? Are you planning to haul me to jail?”
His gaze moved slowly, leisurely over her as if he found the prospect appealing. “If I did, I’d have to put you in a cell next to my prisoner. Which wouldn’t be good.”
