“Gentleman,” she said softly, doe eyes checking me out.
Barney cleared his throat. “I, um, didn’t let you know we was comin’. I figured you’d, ah, know, anyhows.”
“You presumed correctly, Barnabas. And this is …”
I felt like I was in the presence of royalty, a crass incomer who knew nothing of the appropriate etiquette. “David Danvers,” I said, resisting the urge to bow.
“How can I help?” she asked, knowing, I guessed, how she could, whether by spellbinding skills or a script written by Mal. I couldn’t tell.
I looked at Barney. He nodded. “I want to ride the smile,” I said, feeling ridiculous.
If she was laughing at me for being a shmuck, there was no trace of it. In fact, she looked deadly serious. She didn’t, however, exhibit the Shallow Creek Look, the regulation tight little smil
