Still . . . his touch. He undid her with it every time. Didn’t he know it?
“I said to turn that belching thing off!” Jimmy Beetles yelled again as a few bikers messed with the jukebox, not knowing how to work it. The short, wiry bartender came over to help them.
Meanwhile, Ben guided Liz closer to the table. “Liz, you know everyone here except for Jesse Navarro.” He gestured toward the big rock of a stranger who checked her out like he had some kind of mental list he was going through. She wasn’t sure if she was passing the grade with him, either. “He owns the Pink Ladies Gentleman’s Club on the north side.”
Jesse nodded at her, and she dimpled at him like a good wife should. It was as if she was onstage again, in the spotlight.
On with the show.
“Good to meet you, Jesse.”
She thought she heard him grunt a response, but Daddy Hughes interrupted.
“Hello again, my dear,” he said, holding out his ringed hand to her.
This was evidently her cue to pay homage to him, so she went on over, bending to kiss his plump cheek. She did the same to Bijou, who whispered into Liz’s ear in her French accent.
“It smells of ashtray here, yes?”
“Yes.”
As the woman shot a miffed glance at Ben, silently chiding her husband’s son for his choice in hangouts, Liz shrugged.
“We’ll be moving to a nicer place near better bars as soon as we find one, Bijou. I’ll whip my husband into shape yet.”
Bijou approved while Liz thought about what she’d just said. A nicer place—a mansion. Her.
Jeez, this marriage was really happening, along with all its fake trappings.
Jimmy Beetles had wrested control of the jukebox by now, and Liz went back to Ben, who planted a kiss on her forehead.
Approval. She was pulling off their act yet again.
“Now,” Jimmy Beetles said, hanging on to the front of his leather cut like a mayor from biker hell, “most of you’re probably wondering, ‘Why’s Beetles talking?’”
“Yeah,” shouted Gideon Lane from where he was kicking back in his chair, one weathered cowboy boot resting over his lower thigh. “Why’s Beetles bellowing at the room?”
“I’ll tell you why.” The biker motioned to Ben and Liz. “Because I’m the asshole least likely to be congratulating someone on tying the knot and I thought you all would appreciate the irony!”
“That’s for sure,” said the old-timer at the bar named Hooper—the one with the walrus mustache. “Beetles’s only experience with marriage was the time he proposed to his blow-up doll. Even she told him to kiss her grits!”
That got a laugh—at least from most of the crowd. Kat didn’t seem amused, and Liz was too busy wondering why Ben’s arm felt stiff around her as he held her close.
Then again, she knew why.
Beetles pointed at Hooper. “So many blow-up dolls, so little time. You should know.” More laughing until he made a shut-up gesture. “Let’s get the champagne going here. Then I’m gonna motorboat that cake like it’s a pair of stripper’s tits.”
Kat had been setting bottles of Cristal on the bar, no doubt compliments of Ben, and the older-timers grabbed for them, uncorking them and whooping before pouring the bubbly into flutes on trays that two more bartenders had appeared with. They began to circulate with the glasses.
“Any words for us, black sheep?” Beetles yelled.
Ben nodded, stepping away from Liz, taking both of her hands in his. For a heartbeat or two, she actually thought that he’d dropped all their pretenses and was looking into her eyes like he meant it again. But thanks to this morning, there was an invisible wall between them that blocked her with doubts.
“No one here is more surprised that I’ve got a ring on my finger,” he said as the room quieted. “But when love hits you, it hits hard.”
Liz swallowed away the lump that had lodged in her throat as he continued.
“The first time I saw my wife, it was like I’d stepped into a place I’d never gone before. . . .”
“Like the Golden-plate Man in Oz!” shouted someone at the bar.
Someone else joined in. “You mean the Tin Man.”
Gideon’s mild voice cut in. “More like the Wizard of Shut the Hell Up. Go ahead, Ben.”
A titter traveled the room, but Ben didn’t seem to mind. He was watching Liz, his hands gripping hers now.
“My life changed in that moment, and it hasn’t been the same since. I knew if I didn’t marry her, someone else would someday, and I’d regret it. So I’m never looking back. I’ll never be that black sheep again, thanks to her.”
His eyes shined with affection, and it seemed so real that she forgot about their argument, forgot about everything and rushed forward, embracing him. Clung to him. Loved him and showed him that Jameson had been wrong about her. So wrong.
Everyone was cheering now, and she barely heard when Jimmy Beetles proposed a toast and glasses clinked and the jukebox played again, ripping into a hard rock song about believing in a thing called love.
Time seemed to pass in a flash as they remained like that—wrapped up in each other. Or maybe time was so slow that she couldn’t keep track of it.
This couldn’t be an act, she thought. This was her real Ben, forgiving and forgetting. Wasn’t he?
She didn’t have long to mull over the question, because the sound of a male voice broke their moment completely. Ben’s arms tightened around her.
“Tabloids are outside,” said the new arrival.
Ben pulled her closer. And he wasn’t the only one who’d gone on alert. Everybody around Liz was staring at the newbie across the room, and she finally looked over to see why.
It was the tall, hunky guy who’d meandered into the saloon the other day to flirt with Kat.
Liz wasn’t sure why Ben, Gideon, and even the bikers were all up in arms at the sight of him, but she could see that Kat had gone wide-eyed behind the bar.
The man himself seemed thrown off by all the bristling attention, but he moved toward the bar, anyway, smiling at Kat. “Seems as if I walked in on something big, and I’m not just talking about the news vultures outside, asking me if I know Bennett Hughes and if he’s in here.”
Hooper and a couple of other bike enthusiasts made for the door, and Liz was sure they were going to chase off the press. Jimmy Beetles started in the same direction, but Jesse Navarro got out of his seat in time to intercept him and mutter something in his ear. Jimmy Beetles backed off, shaking his head, sassing back something about driving down the reporters with his bike.
In the meantime, Kat was backing away from the bar—and the new guy. “I thought you left.”
“It wasn’t for long,” he said, leaning on the wood. “There was too much to bring me back here.”
And that’s when Gideon stood, walking toward the invader casually, his boots thudding on the floor like a countdown.
Ben bent down to her ear. “Looks like the party’s on stall. Let’s get out of here before the tabloids come in.”
He began to move Liz toward the courtyard door, gesturing for his father and Bijou to join them. Daddy Hughes shook his head, perfectly content where he was. His bodyguard hovered as Bijou stopped midyawn, suddenly interested in the tense situation developing over by the bar.
“Looks like my father’s fine here,” Ben said, continuing to pull Liz along.
“The tabloids are gonna see us sneaking out.”
“Not through the general store’s back door.”
She squeezed his hand, wanting to tell him that he couldn’t shelter her from the tabloids forever.
Behind, she could hear Gideon’s voice. “Evening, Mr. Smith. Kat didn’t expect to see you back here.”
Just as Liz started to suspect that things weren’t quite right with Kat and the mysterious Mr. Smith, Ben pulled her through the side door.
20
He was back.
Isaiah Smith should’ve taken the hint from all
Kat’s cold shoulders and stayed away. Hell, what kind of man kept coming round for more of her stiff-arming anyway?
Kat had a good idea: the kind of man who had an agenda and wasn’t merely paying his respects to some barmaid he’d come upon at some saloon.
Her back hit the liquor shelf while she tried to put space between her and Isaiah, even if he was on the other side of the bar. It wasn’t easy to distance herself, though. Sure, her mind was advising her to throw more cold at him, but her body was making a whole different argument, her stomach scrambling at the sight of his glass-green eyes, windows to a soul that might not have her best interests at heart. Clay definitely hadn’t come through those doors for any altruistic reasons, and he’d nearly destroyed her before she’d destroyed him.
And Kat wasn’t about to let another Clay happen again, even if Boomer hadn’t unearthed any new, damning information about Isaiah Smith today. This afternoon, he’d called her and Gideon to let them know that her frequent visitor didn’t appear to be a registered private investigator, so he wasn’t poking around Kat because someone had hired him. Isaiah also didn’t have a criminal record and didn’t appear to be related to Clay or Beatrice.
So who was he and why had he been sniffing around Kat as well as going on Internet message boards to find out about silver around the area?
Clearly, most everyone in the saloon had gotten the word that she didn’t want Isaiah’s attention, because they were watching him closely. They had gone silent, the jukebox providing the only noise as Creedence Clearwater Revival played. Dillinger went over to turn the machine off, and Isaiah, who’d been leaning on the bar oh so nonchalantly, rose to a full stand.
Tall and football-big, he wasn’t anyone to be messed with, but Gideon didn’t seem to mind that. The cowboy never did.
“Not that we don’t welcome your business here,” Gideon said affably, tipping back his Stetson as he sidled near Isaiah. “But your continued presence does raise questions about what your intentions might be for one of my best friends.”
Bewildered, Isaiah laughed. A trickle of forbidden longing ran through Kat, like poison that she couldn’t help drinking. But this was what she’d become—an injured thing that had tried to heal herself, a bleeding victim who’d refused to stay that way. And she was going to keep safe from more stabs, no matter where they came from.
Isaiah seemed to understand what was going on now, and he spoke to Gideon. “Ah. You’re giving me the big-brother interrogation. I could tell you all are a tight-knit group.”
Down the bar, Jimmy Beetles stroked his beard, narrowing his eyes at Isaiah. Next to him, big old Jesse Navarro—the ex-soldier and take-no-shit strip club owner—put a hand on the biker’s shoulder, keeping him from saying anything that might turn this situation to crap.
Kat couldn’t sit back and do nothing here. This was her problem, not Gideon’s or anyone else’s.
She looked Isaiah straight in the eye. “Maybe you’d like to tell me why you came to Rough and Tumble.” Man, she sounded tough. “That’s what I really want to know, because I’m not all too sure it’s because of any story collecting that you’ve been doing. Are you even a student?”
Isaiah pressed his lips together, looking down. Then he nodded. When he glanced back up at the crowd, he lifted an eyebrow.
“Some privacy for a conversation would be nice,” he said.
There was a general, protective grumble at that, and Kat held up her hands for silence. Everyone obliged.
“Just tell me what you want, Isaiah,” she said in a voice that sounded choked and not so tough at all.
He scanned the crowd, and when his gaze landed on Kat, the oxygen got trapped in her lungs.
How could he look at her and reduce her to a pounding heartbeat like this? Dammit, why hadn’t he walked into this saloon years ago, before Clay?
Finally, he spoke. “Full disclosure? It’s silver I’m after, not so much urban legends or tales of the West, although I am attending school, just like I told you. That’s what turned me on to Rough and Tumble. I’ve heard vague stories about a lost cache of silver around this area, and I thought . . . well, hell, my investments and stock portfolio are going to need a boost in the future. That’s how it is for an NFL player who was no big star. So why not go on a profitable adventure while I’m young enough to enjoy a treasure hunt? I can afford at least that.” He spread his hands. “So did I pass the big-brother test?”
Gideon obviously wanted to talk about the treasure part, just in case Isaiah had somehow caught on to Clay’s stash. “What silver, Isaiah?”
Kat closed her eyes, praying he wouldn’t say anything about knowing Clay or being Beatrice’s relative or another partner in their crimes. Praying he didn’t know anything.
When she opened her eyes, Isaiah was watching her, and she was sure there was disappointment in his gaze.
“I heard some rumors,” he said, “about the land around Rough and Tumble. That it still has some silver to be found and that it wasn’t played out back in its mining days.”
Jimmy Beetles wasn’t privy to Kat’s secret but was always up for a tussle if he sensed one coming up. “Treasure hunters pass through town every once in a blue moon, but they don’t harass our Kat like you’ve been doin’.”
“Harassing her?” Isaiah laughed, amused this time. “You’ve got me wrong.” Then he looked around the room, his brow furrowed. “Are all of you her big brothers or something?”
Jesse Navarro came forward. “Hey, it’s nothing personal, my friend.” He addressed the room. “Is it?”
Denials echoed. Shit, they were putting Isaiah through the wringer, and Kat just wanted to see an end to it.
“The man is right,” she said before her friends got too overprotective. “Privacy’s needed.”
“Kat . . .” Gideon said.
She motioned for Isaiah to come behind the bar, and Gideon stood nearby, his arms crossed over his chest, hardly giving up ground. After sending him a reassuring glance, she gestured for Isaiah to go into the hall that led to the back room. Gideon could still keep an eye on her there, but no one would hear them.
She pointed to the jukebox. “Get that back on!”
Within a few seconds, it was playing some rough country, and she went back to face Isaiah. Every step seemed to take forever as she trained her gaze on him: buff and gorgeous and very confused by the reception he’d gotten.
The hallway seemed to press them together, his body so close to hers that she felt a buzz over her skin. But he wasn’t out to flirt with her now.
“What the hell is going on, Kat?” he asked.
She couldn’t tell him about Clay, but she owed him something. “My friends . . . They’d do anything for me.”
“And why are they so fierce about you?”
“Let’s just say that there’re people who’ve come through this town and haven’t treated me kindly. Rough and Tumble’s silver history seems to bring that out in some.”
“So every fortune hunter who comes out here gets the third degree?”
She dug her nails into her palm. “Men don’t pay attention to me. In general.”
The beat of the music pounded between them until he spoke.
“That surprises me, Kat, because you caught my attention right away.”
She thought of the speech Ben had given earlier about his “marriage.” Love at first sight, all that. What he’d been talking about was lies, created for his fake nuptials.
Or were they? From the way she’d seen Ben looking at Liz not long ago, she wasn’t sure. So was it out of the realm of possibility that Isaiah was telling the truth, too?
She blew out a breath, wishing she was the type of girl who could have admirers. Wishing, just this once, she could tell Isaiah everything about her so he would know this really wasn’t about him.
“There’s way more to me than what you see,” Kat said, her voice wobbling.
“I’ve no doubts about that.”
He reached out, but she s
hied away, and he withdrew, puzzled again, maybe even rejected.
“You’re such a nice guy.” She shook her head, anger welling in her. Damn Clay. Damn Beatrice. They’d scarred her beyond a fucking knife wound. “And I’m sorry you had to trip across someone like me and become interested. I hope you find your silver, along with a woman who can give you even more than that.”
Heat was plucking at her throat, and she had to get away before she started to cry like a girl. She started to leave, but he stopped her.
“Kat . . . ?”
The sound of his voice—a strong man going weak for just a slice of a moment. She heard how much he did want her with only that one word, and it killed her.
But she wasn’t good for anybody. She had a secret that would murder any relationship. When Isaiah had seen her for the first time, he’d seen a whole different woman than she actually was, and that could never change. Not for any man.
She didn’t turn around to look at him. It might be her undoing. But she listened, let herself yearn for one more second.
“Kat,” he said. “I don’t know what you’re about, but maybe someday, after you’ve had some time to think, I’ll be back through here again. Maybe then . . .”
“Don’t hope, Isaiah,” she said. “Hope gets you into more trouble than you can imagine.”
She couldn’t take another second of this, and she rushed back into the bar, where her friends would surround her, shelter her. At least she had them, along with her secrets.
And when Isaiah emerged from behind the bar, she told herself again not to look . . . not to look . . .
All she could see from the corner of her eye was the door opening, then closing as he left, taking with him a glimpse of the only light she’d seen for years.
Leaving her with a cut from a different kind of blade this time.
***
As Ben had guided Liz into the closed, dim general store, she didn’t seem to care that there might be tabloid reporters out front. Instead, she’d been firing questions at him about Kat.
But maybe she felt she could handle the press as simply as she’d won over his family. Luckily, Ben was prepared to answer her questions since Gideon had filled him in on Boomer’s update about Isaiah Smith. Not that Ben could tell Liz everything about Kat’s dilemma, but Smith didn’t seem like the threat he’d appeared to be at first, and that meant Gideon would be able to handle the man’s reappearance in the saloon as Ben took care of his own situation with Liz and the tabloids.
Down and Dirty Page 25
