by Pamela Clare
When I asked him to defend this, he said, “Men get back to the lode quicker, you, when they’re nae afeard the bratticin’ will crash down upon their ’eads.”
I informed him that any man too afeard to do his job ought to lose his position. A mine is no place for cowards. I asked the mining inspector his thoughts on the matter. He said we ought to discuss it over a meal, as he had not eaten since leaving Boulder City early that morning. I took him to the inn, saw to it that he received a warm meal and some whiskey, at which point he confessed that he was of the same mind as I. After that he was content to leave for Boulder City once more, having never set foot in the mine.
To think a government official can be bought for the cost of a meal and a few shots of whiskey.
Once I was rid of him, I sent Mr. Craddock to find the pretty girl Hawke had hired last week. As Belle cannot continually provide girls who are truly virgins, I have found it necessary to procure my own. Though I had Mr. Craddock serve the little bitch tea and a bit of chocolate, she did not trust me. I asked her how old she was. She said fourteen. I asked if she was a virgin. She blushed to the roots of her hair. I asked for her name, and she said, “Jenny Minear.” I then offered her the usual—one silver dollar in exchange for her virginity. When she refused, I dismissed her, making it clear that she was not to report for work in the morning.
She stared at me through big green eyes and begged me not to take her job. She told me her father would throw her out if they found out she’d been with a man. I said I certainly would not tell them. She seemed to have some idea of what was to come, lying back on my desk and lifting her dusty skirts. The silly girl had tears in her eyes and complained that it hurt. I told her that was normal the first time. Her crying ceased the moment I held out the coin.
“Is that all there is to it?” she asked.
If I’d had the capacity, I’d have tumbled her again right then to show her true male prowess. Instead, I made her an offer. If she promised to keep only to me, there would be more coins in her future. She curtsied, thanked me, and left, her trepidation gone, a smile on her face.
As I cannot go home unless I wish to listen to Louisa moan and wail, I have it in mind to find a game of cards at the new saloon that opened last week. Scarlet Springs is a thriving town now due to the success of my mine. Every man here owes his livelihood to me, and well they know it.
A post-script for the day: Mr. Craddock found me at the saloon and told me that Louisa gave birth to twins, both stillborn. Louisa died moments after the birth of blood loss, leaving me alone with the boy. I shall have to decide what to do with Joseph, whether to send him back east to his grandparents, who will surely coddle him, or keep him here with me and find a nurse to look after him.
Rain slammed the journal shut, blinked back her tears, rage a knot in her chest. The bastard’s wife had died giving birth, and he hadn’t spared a thought for her. He’d married her for her father’s fortune, used her for sex and children, and hadn’t seemed to care at all for her when she’d died.
The poor woman!
Rain had thought herself in love with Guy, too—until he’d left her alone to have their baby, refusing to drive her to the hospital for fear they’d arrest him for statutory rape. Giving birth to Lark had been one of the worst experiences in her life, the pain tearing her apart, giving her nightmares for weeks afterward. It had also made her see Guy for who and what he was.
Louisa had clearly come to see Silas for what he was, too. She’d wanted to go back east to be with her family, but she’d never gotten the chance.
Rain didn’t just dislike Silas. She loathed him.
And what about Jenny Minear? She must be one of Rain’s ancestors. No one else around here had that last name. Rain knew nothing about her heritage. Until this moment, she hadn’t cared, but now she wanted to learn everything she could.
Would Joe know? Could she ask him? It would be a little awkward.
So, your ancestor coerced a woman who had the same last name as I do into having sex with him. Do you know what connection I have with her?
Not that she blamed Joe, of course. He was nothing like Silas. Joe would never bully one of his female employees into having sex or…
Was this why Joe wouldn’t touch her?
The thought struck her—and stuck.
I’m trying to be fair to you.
Is that what he’d meant?
No, it couldn’t be. He had to know that they were in no danger of repeating history. He was no Silas, and she was no fourteen-year-old virgin. He certainly hadn’t forced her to kiss him. The kiss had been her idea.
Then again, it would be just like him to go overboard trying to balance out a wrong that had been done. This was the same guy who secretly donated to fundraisers at Knockers, seeding the donation jars with thousands from his own pocket to help others in the community because he felt he somehow owed the people of Scarlet Springs a debt. He’d never told her this, but she knew it was true from the little things he said.
She’d caught him stuffing a fat roll of hundreds into a donation jar for victims of that awful bus crash. When she’d started to say how generous she’d thought this was, he’d cut her off, dismissing her praise.
“My family took a lot from this town, so I give back when I can,” he’d said.
Then another possibility came to her. What if Silas had gotten Jenny pregnant? What if Rain and Joe were both descended from Silas? They’d be half third cousins or something—not related closely enough for it to get them arrested.
Oh, Joe, you sweet, wonderful idiot.
If he thought he was going to keep her at arm’s length because of Silas, he was in for a surprise.
Joe looked at the figures on his computer screen. It had taken him a lot longer than it usually did to catch up with the accounting, perhaps because he couldn’t get his mind off a certain beautiful green-eyed woman. He willed himself to focus, looked at the bottom line. Knockers was almost certainly going to break even this month, and that was good enough for him. He didn’t run the place to make a profit.
Still, they’d had a profitable fall, and that would more than make up for being closed these few days. Even if they remained closed for the rest of the week—and he doubted that would be necessary—he’d be able to meet payroll on Friday and hand out Christmas bonuses without dipping into his capital gains.
Not wanting the staff to worry, he sent out a group email, assuring them all that everyone would receive their regular salary and that they’d be open again as soon as the roads were safe and the state of emergency lifted. Then he scrolled through his emails, not really seeing the words on his screen.
You can’t hide in your office all night.
Was that what Joe was doing? Was he hiding?
Coward.
He needed to face Rain sooner rather than later and apologize for letting things get out of hand. Yes, the kiss had been her idea, but he’d ignored his better judgment and turned what could have been a friendly Christmas kiss on the cheek turn into a full-blown make-out session. Then again, maybe apologizing wasn’t a good idea either. He would probably end up hurting her feelings more than he already had. Besides, he wasn’t sorry—not really. That kiss had been the best kiss of his life.
He’d seen the desire in her eyes. He’d watched it melt into disappointment and hurt when he’d pulled away from her. But, damn it, what was he supposed to do? If he slept with her, he’d be little better than Silas or any of his male ancestors. Joe’s father had faced more than one sexual harassment lawsuit for groping female employees.
But Rain wanted it. She wanted you. She said so.
He supposed that did make it different, though it didn’t change the fact that she was his employee. If he had sex with her, he’d be breaking his own rules. Even as he told himself this, his eyes drifted shut, a fantasy of her filling his head, her breasts bared to his touch, her face flushed from arousal, her body closing around him like a fist. The hard-on that strained against his fl
y wasn’t imaginary, however, his jeans uncomfortably tight.
You’re not making this any easier on yourself.
Ah, hell.
He waited until his erection had subsided, then got to his feet and opened his office door, the scent of something delicious hitting him in the face. He found Rain in the kitchen, dancing to and singing along with the Timberline Mudbugs while she made a pot of spaghetti. Her voice slid over the notes like silk as she filled out their melody with her own sweet harmony.
Joe stood for a moment and watched her, knowing she hadn’t yet seen him. God, she was beautiful, her blond hair swinging as she moved, her motions sensual, her sense of rhythm innate and flawless. If not for that bastard Guy, who’d used her dreams to manipulate her into his bed, she might have had a chance. But she’d gotten pregnant and had set aside everything she’d wanted in life to raise her little girl.
Joe had always admired her for that, but, damn, that had been a big price to pay for trusting someone. She refused even to talk about it now, the loss of that dream still painful for her.
She glanced up, smiled when she saw him. “Hungry? I made pasta with marinara sauce. It’s late, so I figured we should have something light. Want to make the salad?”
“I can do that.” He walked up behind her, sniffed the sauce, the scents of onion, tomato, oregano, and garlic making his mouth water. “That smells incredible.”
“It’s one of Rico’s recipes.”
“Good old Rico.” He walked to the sink, washed his hands, then went to work on cleaning and chopping the salad fixings she’d set out on the counter. If she wouldn’t bring it up, he would. Then he noticed the empty plate sitting in the sink. “Hey, what happened to the cookies?”
“I ate them.”
“All?” Shit. If Rain had binged on cookies, it meant she was upset. Joe thought he knew why. “About what happened earlier…”
“Do you know who Jenny Minear was? Is she my great-great-great-grandmother or something?”
The question caught Joe unprepared, but it shouldn’t have. He’d known she’d find the journal and keep reading. She was caught up in the story, just as he’d been the first time he’d read the journals. “Jenny was your great-great-great-grandmother’s older sister.”
“You and I aren’t third or fourth cousins?”
“No.” He sliced tomatoes, tossed them into the wooden salad bowl. “We might have been. Silas got Jenny pregnant. She had a couple of girls, but they died. After he left her pregnant, she went to Belle seeking help and died from a botched abortion.”
“What?” Rain stared at him, eyes wide, rage turning her cheeks pink. “What a stinking rat bastard! That poor girl.”
“Yeah.” Silas had coerced Jenny, used her poverty and the power he held over her as her boss to bend her to his will.
Rain’s gaze grew soft. “You’re nothing like him, you know.”
Once again, her words caught him off-guard, this time sparking his temper. “Of course, I know that.”
“It’s not your job to pay for his crimes.”
“He got away with all of it—all of it, Rain. He made a lot of money, too, and I inherited that wealth.”
“You inherited his money, not his guilt.”
“It’s blood money, Rain.”
“Oh, bullshit!” Rain stepped in front of him, wooden spoon in hand. “Just stop! It’s your money now. In your hands, that money has made life better for a lot of people in Scarlet. You gave me a job when no one in town would hire me, when it wasn’t even legal for me to serve alcohol. You helped me find a place to live, paid my first month’s rent, gave me a bed and a crib, held a baby shower for me.”
Joe hadn’t forgotten. She’d walked in to apply for a job waiting tables, newborn Lark in her arms, her belly still swollen from pregnancy. She’d promised to work hard, looking up at him, her green eyes filled with desperation and hope. It had broken his heart to see someone so young in such dire straits.
“I did what anyone would do.”
“Not true, and you know it. I had applied everywhere. No one wanted to hire a teen mom with a two-week-old baby—until you.”
Then it dawned on him.
He’d tried to talk about the kiss, and Rain had deftly changed the subject. He couldn’t let her get away with that. “So, about what happened earlier—”
“Don’t you dare apologize. We’re both adults. You know I wanted that kiss, and I think you wanted it, too. I think you enjoyed it and wanted more, just like I did.”
What the hell could he say to that? She had him figured out.
“Okay, you’re right. I wanted it. I enjoyed it, and, yeah, I wanted more. But that doesn’t mean it was the right thing to do. It won’t happen again.”
Her lips curved in a little smile, her gaze lingering on his as she turned back to the stove and stirred the sauce.
Holy hell.
Chapter 8
Twenty-four days till Christmas
Rain awoke the next morning feeling a renewed sense of hope and determination. She reached for her cell phone, checked her email, and found a quick message from Lark asking how she was doing. There was also a handful of messages from people in town asking her how she was doing and two emails from Joe. The first assured her and the rest of the staff that they would get paid no matter how long Knockers was closed, while the second told them that Boulder Canyon wasn’t yet open and the pub wouldn’t reopen for at least one more day. That was Joe in a nutshell, putting the worries and needs of his staff before his own.
She typed out a reply to Lark, then climbed out of bed and, still in her pajamas, followed the sound of classic rock downstairs to the home gym and peeked inside. Her pulse skipped, a shaft of heat piercing her belly.
Oh. My. God.
Joe stood, shirtless, doing bicep curls, his dark hair drawn back in a ponytail. Not once in twenty-one years had she seen him without a shirt. She wasn’t disappointed. The man was ripped, all lean muscle without being bulky. Dark curls peppered well-defined pecs, his abdomen an honest-to-God six pack, his biceps bunching as he worked.
And tats. Bands of Celtic knotwork encircled his biceps. Who had known he had tats on his biceps? Not Rain.
She wasn’t sure she’d need coffee if she got to look at this every morning. Some part of her—she thought it was probably her ovaries—could have stood on this spot and watched him all day, but her brain had a better idea.
She tiptoed back upstairs and searched through the clothes Joe had brought from her place, pulling out a pink V-neck T-shirt and a pair of navy yoga pants. She dressed, brushed her teeth, put her hair up in a deliberately messy bun, and checked her reflection. She’d opted for her white lacy pushup bra and was happy with the results. She adjusted her boobs for maximum effect and went downstairs again, walking into his gym as if she did this sort of thing every day. “Hey, mind if I join you?”
He looked up, his gaze sliding over her and stopping at her cleavage. “Yes. No! I mean no, yeah, sure.”
Tongue-tied, Joe?
Good.
Rain had never been a gym rat. She preferred hiking outdoors or climbing at the rock gym to running on a treadmill or lifting weights. She hadn’t spent much time in the regular gym and wasn’t sure where to start. She glanced around, her gaze passing over him once, twice.
He pointed, a hint of a smile on his lips. “The dumbbells are over there.”
She walked over to the rack that held his set of dumbbells, grabbed two thirty-pound weights. Yeah, no. She put them back, trading them for two twenty-pound weights. Even that was a stretch. She turned toward him and did what she’d seen him do.
“Try to hold your upper body still.”
“Am I moving?”
“You’re using your back and shoulders to help lift the weight.” He walked over to the rack, picked up two smaller weights, and brought them to her. “Try these.”
She traded him, twenty-pound dumbbells for the seven-pounders, looking up at him from beneath her la
shes. “Are you saying I’m weak?”
“Weak? No. A beginner? Yes.” He carried the heavier weights back to the rack, then came to stand beside her.
She raised the weights.
“Try alternating sides, and don’t let your upper body compensate for your motion.” He pressed a hand to the middle of her back and one to her upper abdomen, his touch making her belly tense. “Make your motions nice and smooth.”
He was so close now that she could smell the male scent of his skin, feel the heat radiating off his body. Her brain went blank, but somehow she managed to do as he’d asked, alternating left and right while he counted to twelve.
He stepped back, drew his hands away. “That’s a good start. Give your muscles a few minutes to recover, and do another set.”
His voice was deeper now, softer, something in his dark eyes telling her that she wasn’t the only one feeling this spark between them. Then his gaze dropped to her lips, and she knew he was going to kiss her.
Instead, he turned away, walked to a bench where a barbell rested, large weights already attached on each side. “We can’t open the pub today. Boulder Canyon is still closed. It doesn’t make sense to open when half the staff can’t make it in and most of our clientele is still hunkered down.”
“I got the email.” She set the dumbells on the floor and followed him. “It was good of you to reassure the staff about their paychecks. I’m sure the newer folks were starting to worry.”
He lay back on the bench, situated himself beneath the barbell.
