He took the time to appreciate the beautiful woman at the other end of the room was finally his. He no longer had to pretend he wasn’t attracted to her, that she wasn’t always on his mind.
Certainly, he couldn’t just walk up and kiss her while she was working, but later? His gut clenched even as his lips twitched. He’d make damn sure there was a later.
As though sensing him staring, Silver set down the bottle and raised her head. With the intensity of a cracking whip, their gazes met, locked. Their kiss in her kitchen came back in vivid detail and looking at Silver now, locks of golden hair tumbling over one shoulder, eyes heating as she watched him, he felt his temperature rise. And before something else did as well, Shane wove his way toward the bar.
The noise wasn’t as loud as inside Grey’s nor were there as many men, but her saloon was over half full and other than Silver, he only saw her waitress Ivy working the tables. Where the hell was Bruce? Shane had made a point of stopping in this afternoon before heading back to retrieve the body to tell her they’d found the man who’d beat Charlotte, dead. He’d made Silver promise she’d have Bruce on hand until Shane felt the danger was past. But the big man was nowhere to be seen.
Shane began to overheat for a whole other reason.
“Where’s Bruce?” he demanded when he reached the bar.
Silver set the whiskey bottle back onto the glass shelf behind her. “He was here but I sent him home.”
“Why the devil would you do that after what I told you?”
Never one to back down, Silver crossed her arms. The action drew attention to her full breasts and for a moment Shane was lost to everything but the creamy swells rising above the lace of her bodice, the fullness he knew would overflow his hands. His hands twitched as he imagined the weight of them, the silky warmth of them. Feeling his lust rising, Shane dropped onto the stool next to Wade.
“He was sick, so I sent him home,” Silver continued, seemingly unaware of Shane’s lascivious thoughts. “I couldn’t have him sneezing and coughing on everyone.”
“Why didn’t you send someone for me?”
“Because, Shane McCall, I can take care of myself. And,” she continued when he was ready to argue the point, “I didn’t send him home until after Scott and Wade arrived.”
After staring him down for a moment, her face softened and she lowered her arms. “I made sure I was safe.”
The fist around his heart loosened. When he’d thought of what he’d found today and then considered she’d been here without protection... Hell, he’d been scared spitless. Sure she could take of herself, he knew about the shotgun she kept beneath the bar, but protecting against a drunkard was one thing. Defending herself against a murderer was quite another.
“Safe from what?” Wade asked.
Shane leaned forward so he could see past Wade to Scott. “That man who beat Charlotte? I found him dead in the hills today.”
“Dead?” Scott asked, his gaze dark.
“Shot in the back,” Shane confirmed.
“You’re sure it’s the same man?”
“Charlotte confirmed it, finally.” When Scott only scowled and looked down into his steaming cup of coffee, Shane added, “I thought you’d be happier.”
Fire blazed in Scott’s blue eyes when he turned them on Shane. “I’d have preferred to get a hold of him myself first.”
As Shane would feel the same if anyone ever tried to harm one of his friends, he nodded in understanding.
Wade turned toward Shane. “You think whoever killed him is lingering around these parts?”
“I don’t think it’s a coincidence that four men robbed Katie’s coach and now, only a few weeks later, four men are hiding nearby. Well, three now. They had no quandary shooting that shotgun rider. I can’t see they’d have any more difficulty shooting one of their own.”
Shane pulled the drawing out his pocket. “I sketched a drawing of the dead man. I’d like to show it to Katie. I know the robbers were masked, but maybe she’ll recognize the eyes.
“That was how Charlotte identified him. I’d just finished showing it around Grey’s when I saw you on the street.”
“Anyone recognize him?” Wade asked.
“Jedidiah Hornsby did. Said he saw him ride into a camp where three others were waiting. It was too dark to see what the others looked like. Camp’s not too far; I’ll take Owen up there tomorrow.”
Scott held out a hand. “Can I see it?”
Silver lifted her tray of whiskeys, drawing Shane’s attention back to her.
“I’ll get these men their drinks and then I’ll fix you one,” she said.
He held her gaze for a heated moment, enjoying the sizzle that cracked in the air between them. While he wanted nothing more than to herd everyone out so he could be alone with her, he had to admit there was something to delaying it as well, to building the anticipation.
“I can wait,” he said at length, adding a wink so she’d know he was talking about more than just a glass of whiskey.
He expected her to flush, perhaps bobble the tray given that he’d never teased her in such a manner before.
Instead, she rolled her eyes and said, “Don’t I know it.” Then, giggling, she took the drinks to one of the tables at the front of the saloon.
Beside him Wade choked on his alcohol.
“Something wrong?”
Wade just shook his head and grinned like a fool. “I love watching her put you in your place. It does my heart good.”
“Well, I hope you’ve had your fill of it, because it won’t be happening much any more.” He wasn’t about to say never, not knowing Silver’s temper.
Smirking, Scott slid the paper back toward Shane. “Why, one of you moving away?”
“No, smart mouth, neither of us is going anywhere.” Shane put the paper into his pocket.
He didn’t bother showing it to Silver; she’d already told him she hadn’t served any strangers recently.
“One of you dying then?” Wade teased, his mouth quirking.
“Who’s dying?” Silver asked. She set her empty tray on the bar.
“Nobody. They just think they’re being funny.”
“How is dying funny?”
“It isn’t,” Wade stated. “But when I mentioned how I love watching you put Shane in his place, he said it wouldn’t be happening much any more.” Wade lifted a shoulder. “I figured the only way that would happen is if one of you was dying.”
“Or moving,” Scott added.
Silver smiled at his friends. “I wouldn’t worry. I’m sure if I falter in that regard you two will be right there to pick up the slack.” Then she turned a knowing smile on Shane. “Although I don’t plan on faltering.”
It was clear she meant more than verbal sparring, that she was referring to the change in their relationship. He knew her well enough to know that when she set her mind on something, there was no changing it. And she’d set her mind, and heart, on him. His own heart, he knew, was in his eyes as he looked at her.
“All right,” Wade said as he nudged Shane with his elbow. “What’s going on?”
Silver’s gaze stayed on Shane for another moment before turning to Wade. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Just then Ivy moseyed up to the bar with a tray of empty glasses and an order for more. Shane watched Silver as she removed the dirty cups, exchanged them with clean ones. Nobody drank out of dirty glasses at Silver’s. Then she alternated taking bottles from the shelf, pouring whiskey and bourbon before adding bottles of beer and sending Ivy back on her way. Her movements were efficient and skilled and in no way sexual. Yet watching her work made his heart pound and his blood heat.
“Well?” Wade nudged Shane again.
Silver kept right on working, wiping the bar, and ensuring all the bottles were aligned on the glass shelf. Their eyes met several times in the mirror behind the shelves and Shane had no doubt what she was doing. By evading Wade’s question she was giving Shane the ch
ance to say, or not say, whatever he felt ready for.
While the thought of everyone knowing still left him a little unsettled, he had no problem telling Scott and Wade. There was no question they’d be happy for him and Silver.
“Silver.” Moving aside his whiskey, Shane set his arm over the bar, turned his palm up.
Slowly she turned from the mirror, faced him. She looked from his hand to his eyes and joy lit her face. God, why had he denied them this for so long?
With a rosy glow on the cheeks, Silver stepped forward, laid her palm in his. Shane closed his fingers around her hand, squeezed. He didn’t have to say anything more; he knew it was written all over their faces. It didn’t take long for Wade to give a loud whoop.
“Well, it’s about time.” He grinned. Wade stood, leaned over the bar and kissed Silver’s cheek. Then he slapped Shane on the shoulder. “Glad you finally came to your senses.”
“Yeah,” Shane answered, ignoring the looks he felt burning his back. He focused on Silver’s honey-gold eyes instead. “So am I.”
With a heavy sigh, Mitch tossed the handful of cards onto the small table in his room. His heart wasn’t into solitary games. Not that he’d really been playing anyway. What he’d been doing was staring and brooding. And thinking he was damn sick and tired of a solitary life.
After spending years crammed in what amounted to little more than a shack, Mitch had welcomed the space and freedom of a hotel room to himself. He didn’t have to share a bed with Shane any longer, didn’t have to listen to anyone snore, or fight for blankets to stay warm when the wind howled through the gaps around the windows.
He’d luxuriated in the silence, the peace. No more screaming and tears. No more fists hitting flesh. He could eat when, where, and what he wanted. He could drink, gamble, and have sex any time he pleased. It had been bloody wonderful and he’d taken to his new life with relish. Refusing to feel guilt, to feel the ties of home, Mitch had lived with a solitary purpose, to please himself. He didn’t regret a damn bit of it.
But he didn’t know if it was enough anymore.
Not that he knew what in hell he wanted.
He’d thought winning the deed to that land would be the answer. But when he’d ridden out and looked at it, he’d felt nothing. No deep desire to build a house, to break land, and put his mark on it. Oh, it was a pretty little piece of land, something he could make his. But he wasn’t sure he wanted to. He’d meant it when he’d told Shane he was no farmer or rancher. He did love gambling. He loved meeting people, seeing different places. Being tied to land here wouldn’t give him any of those things.
And yet having those things no longer filled him as it used to.
Mitch’s frustrated sigh filled his ears. He knew no more now than he had before. Well, that wasn’t true. He knew he couldn’t stay in this room a moment longer. Leaving the cards spread on the table, Mitch grabbed his coat, turned down the lamp, and gladly walked out of the confining room.
It wasn’t much past ten but the boardinghouse was quiet. He crept down the stairs, avoiding the ones he knew creaked, and slipped out the front door into the night. It was nearly as quiet outside. Only the muted din coming from Grey’s could be heard in the still night. He could go there and drink, maybe seek the pleasures of a woman to keep from brooding. Of course he could also go to Silver’s. But that didn’t hold any appeal either. Not because he was heartbroken over her choosing Shane over him; he simply wasn’t in the mood to be social. He muttered a curse. He didn’t want to be alone but neither did he want conversation.
Maybe he should go to Grey’s. He could likely drink alone in a corner without interruption. Hopefully a few glasses of whiskey would dull his mind and rid him of this troublesome disquiet he’d been feeling of late.
Yet, despite the thought, he found himself heading in the opposite direction. The air was cool and fresh and the slight dampness a relief after the cloying confines of his room. Long strides took him down the dirt street where the houses slept, their windows darkened and their porches empty. Well, all but one porch. Someone was sitting on the steps of that one, a woman judging by her moonlit shawl.
Mitch hesitated. He didn’t want to intrude on whatever had brought her outside at this time of night and his passing by was sure to do so. While she could be there for something as simple as she couldn’t sleep, the way her back curved over her bent knees told him it was more complicated. Assuming whoever it was wouldn’t want a stranger to see her when she was down, Mitch turned around.
Her shuddering breath stopped him.
He bowed his head. Hell. He really should move on. This wasn’t his concern. He had his own troubles. But if there was one thing Mitch hated it was a woman in tears. While he’d tried to shield his ma from the worst of his pa’s abuse, he hadn’t been able to do enough and her tears had tore at him. It was one of the reasons he’d avoided getting seriously tangled with a woman.
A little kissing, a paid tumble, some harmless picnics were as much as Mitch was willing to commit to. He’d let Shane think he stole Silver from him but the truth was Mitch had only ever seen her as a fine distraction while he was in town. He never would have let her fall for him; he’d have ended things before they became too serious but he was still a man, after all, and he did enjoy the company of a woman.
Maybe not one who was fighting tears, however, as he struggled to walk away. Getting involved wasn’t smart. What if the lady didn’t want help? What if she was sitting outside to avoid her husband? If that were the case then it would certainly be best if Mitch didn’t embroil himself in her troubles. He didn’t want an angry husband catching his wife outside talking to a stranger at this time of night.
Really, there were no good reasons to head in the woman’s direction. None at all. Nothing good could come of this. But when he heard another breaking sob, he couldn’t walk away. Hell and damn, he should have just stayed in his room or headed straight to Grey’s. Instead, burdened with compassion, Mitch aimed for the troubled woman.
Between her face pressed to her bent knees and her sniffles, she didn’t hear him approaching. Wanting to be heard lest she scream and bring everyone running, he shoved his hands in his pockets, called up a tune in his head and began to whistle. She’d either flee inside before he reached her or she’d pull herself together. While he preferred the first possibility, as that would free him of this chivalrous gesture, he wasn’t opposed the second. Either guaranteed he wouldn’t be witness to tears.
She jerked when she heard his whistling. He saw the quick swipe of her hands over her cheeks, heard the wet sniffle. She rose, grasped the rail of the porch. He recognized the graceful movements, knew who he was looking at even before she turned her face toward him.
Moonlight turned her black hair a midnight blue, shone off the moisture clinging to her lashes. She looked sad and vulnerable. A combination he remembered all too well.
She recognized him right away. Or at least he assumed she did as her eyes narrowed before she turned for the door.
He should just let her go. Clearly, she didn’t want his company and while he was no woman’s knight in shining armor, he’d rather have her go inside mad than sad.
“Leaving so soon?” he taunted, instead.
For a moment, he was sure she’d ignore him and retreat into the house. Instead, she stopped, looked over her shoulder at him.
“It appears the rats are coming out.”
He sputtered. “A rat, am I? As we’ve barely met, I’m not sure I deserve that designation.”
She returned to the edge of the porch, looked down on him as though he were, in fact, a lowly rodent. Mitch couldn’t help it, he grinned.
“You’re a gambler. You profit from other people’s misfortune and,” she added with a loud sniff, “you take advantage of women.”
“Darlin’,” Mitch drawled. “I haven’t taken advantage of a woman yet who didn’t beg for the privilege.”
Her eyes flashed, like lightning in a dark sky. “That is just t
he kind of attitude I’m talking about.”
“I was only defending myself. Or does that constitute yet another sin in your eyes?”
She pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “You were hardly defending yourself.”
Amused, he rested a boot on the bottom step of the porch, leaned onto his bent knee. “Do tell me what I was doing then.”
“Being a braggart and a rake. You could learn from your brother’s decorum.”
“Is that so?” Mitch chuckled. “I have a feeling Shane could learn a thing or two from me as well.”
Her chin angled high. “I doubt that.”
“You think very highly of him.”
She’d have to in order to have waited for him as long as Silver claimed she had. Mitch couldn’t understand it. Sure, Shane was a respected man in this town and he, like Mitch and Logan, had inherited their father’s dark looks, but surely there were other men around these parts that were handsome and well regarded.
Besides, she was hardly unsightly. While the few times he’d seen her about—at the picnic, cleaning at the boardinghouse, or happening to catch her on the street as she ran errands—her hair had been up, twisted and braided, tonight it was a straight waterfall of onyx down her back. Her face was pale but not in an unhealthy pallor. It was delicate, like porcelain. Her eyes were the shape of almonds and nearly as dark as her hair. Perhaps she wasn’t as curvy as Silver, but she was hardly without attributes. Slender hips, long legs. Breasts that would nicely fill a man’s hands.
Mitch cleared his throat. Well, she was pretty was all he was thinking.
“Shane is a good man.”
Her answer pulled him from his lascivious thoughts and hell if it didn’t sound like a bit of a challenge to him.
“I’m sure given the chance, I could prove to you that I am as well. I was planning on taking a walk. Why don’t you join me?”
“I think not,” she answered.
Mitch’s lips twitched as he struggled not to grin at her prissy attitude. “I promise I have nothing inappropriate in mind.” And wouldn’t that shock most folks, including Melissa. “Besides, it’s a nice night and we don’t have to go far.”
A Sheriff's Passion Page 18
