“Your valuables are safe with me,” he promised.
“I’m more worried about you being safe with them. Those are my spare tubes of flash powder in there. They’re basically explosives just waiting for a spark.”
“Sounds downright romantic when you put it like that,” Horner said with a wink. “I’ll be careful, honey, don’t you worry. Your room is right down the hall from mine. You’re welcome to come visit if you get scared during the night.”
“Oh, my dear Mr. Horner,” she said, giving him the tender look a nanny might give to a proud toddler showing off on the playground. “Whatever might you do to make me feel safe in the middle of the night?”
“Try me. I think I could manage to put a smile on your face.”
“You’ve got that going for you, I suppose—you do make a girl laugh.”
“Aw, be honest now,” he said. “You’ve been all over the world—did you ever meet a guy as cute as this?” He flashed his most winsome grin. It was hard not to smile back. If nothing else, the man had confidence.
She patted him on the cheek. “Just one, darling. I bought a monkey when I was in Singapore. He makes me laugh, too, but he chatters less.”
Horner took the rebuff in stride, chuckling loudly and carrying her belongings into the house.
“I do believe you’ve won the fellow’s heart, Miss Fuller,” I told her. We had found ourselves alone on the porch.
“Men’s hearts are easy targets, Abbie. I’m much more interested in winning their respect.”
“Oh, absolutely!” I found myself growing fonder of the brassy reporter by the moment. “Although, I must admit I wouldn’t mind a bit of both from certain parties . . .”
“Like that policeman of yours?”
“I didn’t say . . .”
“Give me some credit. You don’t get far in my game with your eyes closed. I get it—who doesn’t like a man in uniform? But trust me, men are never worth it. Behind every great man is a woman who gave up on greatness and tied herself into an apron. Romance is for saps, Abbie. You’re sharp and you’ve got pluck. Don’t waste it.”
I swallowed, digesting her advice. “What about you?” I said. “On all your wild adventures, you’ve never fallen for anyone?”
She kept up a canny smile, but the ends of her mouth faltered. “The trick about falling is to catch yourself before you hit the dirt.”
“You don’t strike me as the sort of woman who’s afraid of a little dirt.”
She laughed. “Nor you. I dare say it might just be your element, from what I saw today. How’s a good girl from England wind up in the bone business?”
“My father,” I said. “He was the expert.”
“No kidding? And he wanted you to join the family business?”
“Not exactly,” I admitted. “It’s a long story.”
“Well then,” she chimed. “Now we’re into my element. I love a good story.” She slipped into an old rocking chair on the farmer’s porch and gestured to the one beside it. With a deep breath I settled in next to her.
“All right, then, let’s see. My father’s career has always been sort of charmed,” I said. “Or at least I was charmed by it. I grew up wanting to strap on a pith helmet and follow him to adventures, but he never let me. I had to satisfy myself just reading about him or seeing his discoveries displayed in museums around Hampshire. Just before I left for university, he was appointed the head of what promised to be the most prestigious dig of his career. I begged him to bring me along, but he said it wasn’t ladies’ work.”
“A familiar tune.” Nellie nodded.
“That was bad enough, but the real blow came when I learned he had invited Tommy Bellows as a sort of intern.”