Ace took another shot of whiskey and put his glass down before saying quietly, “It hurts like fucking hell and Maddie doesn’t deserve that, Caden. You spend all those hours at the mine hunting for riches when you’ve already found your gold.”
Ace stood.
“Where the hell are you going?”
“I find I’m bored with the present company so I thought I’d go over and say hello to Maddie.”
“Stay the hell away from her.”
“Why? Because you’re a jealous son of a bitch?”
“That, too.”
Ace picked up Caden’s glass and downed its contents, too. “Then you best lay off that whiskey and start putting some shine on your image, because I’m going over and I’m going to talk to her. Maybe even do more than say hi. And when we’re done conversing, I’m going to head over to the hotel, lie down on my bed and I’m going to get some much-needed sleep. And in the morning, I hope to hell I’m going to find you sober and in a better mood.” Slamming the glass down on the table, he turned and walked out.
Caden watched him go, feeling all eyes in the saloon upon him. Just one more thing to blame Maddie for. He poured himself more whiskey, but this shot didn’t taste as good as the last. Everything Ace had said was running around his brain. Fuck. All he’d wanted to do was come home and hold his wife, tell her he loved her the way he should have done, but all he’d ended up doing was yelling and cussing. He really was a sorry son of a bitch.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
WHEN THE KNOCK came at the door, Maddie’s heart foolishly leaped. Of course it wasn’t Caden. He’d gone to the saloon. He wasn’t going to be back any too soon. No man did once they had a bottle in their hand. They just drank and drank until there was no more sitting up, and then they either lay on the table or on the floor until one of their friends came and scraped them up and carried them home.
She licked her lips and wondered, not for the first time, if she should go to the saloon. Caden was her husband. It was her job to scrape him up. He was also the man that had pissed her off. Wiping her hands on her skirt, she went to the front door and found Ace standing there.
“Maddie.” He smiled. “I heard this is the place to come for cinnamon buns.”
Disappointment and happiness warred within her. She let the latter win and smiled. “Ace, it’s good to see you.”
“Good to see you, too.”
“Do you really want a cinnamon bun?”
“I would kill for one.”
“You’d kill for biscuits.”
He smiled. “No, I’d bust heads for a biscuit, but it takes cinnamon and icing to work me up to killing.” He reached behind her ear and with a flip of his fingers produced a coin. “But I’m willing to pay for this one.”
She laughed. The magic trick, as always, made her smile. She took the coin from his hand and examined it, and as always, there was no indication of how he made it appear and disappear like that. When she’d questioned him about it before, he’d asked her wasn’t it enough that she enjoyed it? And she decided that yes, it was.
“I’d invite you in, but—”
“But what?”
“It’s deathly hot in here. With the oven going all day, I think I can start baking rolls on the counter.”
He smiled. “Got a shady spot out back?”
She nodded. “Yup. And I’ve even got some cold coffee.”
“That sounds right nice.”
She motioned him through the house.
He shook his head. “I’ll go around the side. No sense starting talk.”
She shook her head. “As if my reputation couldn’t stand any more.”
He laughed. “Maddie, honey, I don’t think it can. The whole town’s abuzz about how you entertained two men in your house today and how they nearly came to blows over you.”
“One of them was my husband.”
“Yep, that’s the juiciest part.”
“Wonderful.”
She went in the house and, for the third time that day, loaded up some cinnamon rolls on a plate and poured two cups of coffee, adding cream and sugar to Ace’s, leaving hers black. The man did have a sweet tooth.
He was sitting in the same seat under the big oak where Frank had sat. As she set the tray before him, she asked, “How likely is it Caden’s going to pop in here and start trouble again?”
“From the way he was nursing that whiskey bottle, I’d say not likely at all.”
She sighed and sat across from him. “He drinking?”
He nodded. “Yep. Seems to feel justified.”
“I don’t understand what he’s upset about.”
“Well, no man likes to come home and find another man settled in with his wife.”
“He wasn’t settled in. He’d just gotten into town and stopped over to say hi.”
“Your uncle Frank.”
She shook her head. “He’s not my uncle.”
“Yeah, I know. That’s probably the part that’s chewing at Caden’s craw on top of the fact that you seemed happy to see Frank and unhappy to see him.”
She sighed. “I can’t help it.”
“He didn’t leave you, Maddie. Surely you understand that now. He was a day late getting back, but he’s back.”
She shook her head. “No, it’s not that.”
“Then what?”
She took a sip of coffee. She couldn’t even call it cold it was so warm.
Ace took a sip of his. “You remembered how I like it.”
She nodded. “I remember all things Hell’s Eight.”
“I know.”
“Have you heard about Worth?” she asked. “How he’s doing?”
He shook his head. “I haven’t heard, but Hell’s Eight wouldn’t risk a rider for a dog.”
She knew that, too. He’d only been valuable to her.
“That’s not true.”
She looked up. “What?”
“You said Worthless was only valuable to you.”
She hadn’t realized she’d said that out loud.
“Worth means the world to Tucker, too, and the fact that he took that bullet defending you just makes him a hero. Tucker will use him to beef up Boone’s legend. Everybody wants one of his puppies because of how he’d tracked Desi with a bullet in him, bleeding the whole way. Takes a lot of heart to do that.”
She nodded.
“Takes a lot of heart to do a lot of things,” Ace said.
“You’re not going to lecture me, are you?”
“On what?”
“On not staying put.”
He laughed. “Hell, no. I can’t blame you for breaking out of the hotel room. I’d have gone stir-crazy by the second day.”
“Caden seems to think I should have stayed.”
“Caden’s got a lot of weird notions. Mostly all involving you.”
She nodded.
“But none of them have to do with thinking less of you.”
She looked up.
“Maddie. He married you.”
“He didn’t have a choice.”
“Caden always has a choice. You know Caden can be a son of a bitch.”
“He doesn’t mean to be.”
Ace shook his head. “Maddie.”
“What?”
“You’re supposed to be mad at him.”
“I am.”
“Then why when I say something bad about him do you turn it around and make it sound good?”
“I didn’t.”
“Yeah, you did.”
“I don’t know how to talk to him,” she told him, wrapping her fingers around her cup.
“Caden’s a pretty straightforward guy. You said it yourself.”
She shook her head. “Not with me.”
“Maybe you ought to ask yourself why.”
“I irritate him.”
“Don’t be so foolish. The man married you, Maddie.”
“He had to.”
“He consummated the marriage.”
She dro
pped her face in her hands. “There are some things I never need to know. One of them being how you know the intimate details of my marriage.”
He laughed. “How about we just not look at each other for a while.”
She nodded. “That would be good.”
He took a bite of his cinnamon roll. She heard him chew, then heard him moan.
“Damn, they weren’t exaggerating. These are good.”
“Thank you.”
“How many you make of these a day?”
She shook her head. “A hundred, a hundred and fifty maybe.”
“And that’s not keeping up with demand.”
She shook her head. “No.”
“It’s quite a little business you’ve built here. How much you charge for ’em?”
She told him and his eyebrows rose.
“Damn, Maddie. You’re a hell of a businesswoman.”
“There are some things you pick up—” she was going to say as a whore, but she bit her tongue “—over the years.”
“Caden’s a lucky man.”
She sighed. “He doesn’t think so.”
“Yeah, he does. He’s just a little put out right now.”
“Why?”
“Well, I could venture a guess, but I’m thinking that’s probably something you should ask him.”
“I will when he comes back.”
“Yeah, that would be the time to do it. And maybe after he sobers up.”
“He’s drinking that much?”
“Yeah. And Caden rarely drinks. Wonder why that is, too.”
She remembered the sense that she’d maybe hurt his feelings as he’d closed the door.
“Oh, damn.”
“I’ve never heard you cuss before.”
“I’m trying new things.”
“Normally I’d say it doesn’t look good on a woman, but on you, it’s becoming.” He finished his coffee and stood.
“Where’d you leave him?” she asked.
“Up at the saloon.”
The saloon where no decent woman would go. She took off her apron and handed it to Ace.
“In five minutes, take the rolls out of the oven and drizzle them with the glaze that’s beside it.”
“You want me to bake?” He looked stricken.
“I want you to drizzle. There’s a difference. Remember, five minutes.”
“Five minutes. Just take them out.”
“Yes, and drizzle the glaze over them.”
“Okay, but you’re not holding me responsible for how they come out, I hope.”
She nodded her head. “Yes, I am. Those things are expensive to make.”
“And where are you going?”
She sighed. “To fix a mistake.”
* * *
MADDIE WAS HALFWAY to the saloon when she saw Caden coming toward her. If she didn’t know him so well, she never would have recognized the signs that he’d been drinking, but his walk was a little too slow and his motions a little too controlled. Caden stopped in front of her.
“Maddie mine.”
People stopped right alongside them. Ace wasn’t kidding when he said she’d been the talk of the town this morning. She’d never had so much attention.
“Were you coming to see me?” he asked.
“I was coming to fetch you home.”
“Why? Nothing there for me.”
“Everything’s there for you.”
He weaved ever so slightly.
“You’ve been drinking.”
“And you’ve been baking.”
She touched a bruise on his knuckle and noted a slight swelling by his eye.
“You’ve also been fighting.”
“A slight disagreement.”
“With who?”
“Your uncle Frank. We had to renegotiate a deal.”
“What deal?”
“He seemed to think you’re for sale.”
She had been. “The foal?”
“Yes.”
“You decided not to honor the bargain?” She couldn’t conceive of that. Hell’s Eight never went back on their word.
“Hell, no. Hell’s Eight doesn’t renege.”
She ran her thumb over his knuckle. “I don’t understand.”
“I gave it to him as a gift.”
“How is that different?”
Sliding his finger under her chin, Caden lifted her gaze to his. The consumption of alcohol did nothing to dim the force of his personality. “A man couldn’t buy a treasure like you with all the gold in the world. I don’t want that bastard thinking he could.”
She bit her tongue on the immediate contradiction that sprang to mind for the simple reason she didn’t want to correct him. She loved the way Caden ignored her past as if only now mattered.
“But I’d sell my soul if that’s what it took to get you back, Maddie mine,” he finished.
“You didn’t sell your soul to Frank, did you?” Frank had been kind to her but he was a ruthless man in many ways.
Caden brought her hand to his mouth. Her heart caught and her stomach dropped as his lips burned into her palm. He smiled at her gasp, the hard edge in his drawl now in his expression. “Culbart is now an ally of Hell’s Eight.”
She gasped again for an entirely different reason, pulling her hand away. He didn’t let go. “It’s too much.”
An alliance was serious business. Frank could call on Hell’s Eight for any reason. At any time and they would come, putting everyone she loved—Caden, Tucker, Sam—in danger. Wives could be without husbands, children without fathers because of her. She yanked at her hand again. “You have to undo it.”
Instead of letting her go, Caden pulled her up against him. His body was hard and warm. He smelled of alcohol, and she tried to tell herself she should be repulsed, but she wasn’t. She was too horrified by what he’d done. She wanted to smack him and cling to him at the same time.
“I’m not undoing a goddamn thing. There’s no telling what could have happened to you out there. Like it or not, I owe your uncle more than I can ever repay.”
He meant it. He really meant it. Maddie curled her nails into Caden’s chest. A treasure, he’d called her. His treasure. Her knees nearly gave out. She was Caden Miller’s treasure.
“He’s not my uncle.” Somehow she got the words out.
“You used to think he was.”
“It was—” she shrugged, still wrestling with the reality of understanding what had been make-believe “—necessary at the time.”
“And now it’s not.”
She shook her head. “No. A lot of things aren’t necessary anymore.”
“Including me, now that you’ve got the bakery.”
The note in his voice yanked her eyes back to his.
“Why do you hate my business so much?”
“Why do you hate that I hate it?”
“Do you always do this when you’re drinking?”
“What?”
“Answer a question with a question.”
“I don’t know.”
“How can you not know?”
“I haven’t been drunk in a very long time.”
“Are you drunk now?”
“When those last two shots I pounded down hit me, I’m gonna say I’ll be pretty far gone.”
Not a good time to talk, then. About anything, especially the knot of fear and joy tightening in her stomach. She hooked her hand through his arm and held on. “Then maybe we need to go home.”
“Got that couch with my name on it?”
She smiled, feeling lighter inside than she could ever remember feeling.
“I don’t want to sleep there.”
“Why not?” she asked, strolling beside him.
“It won’t fit two.”
That was sweet to hear.
“It will fit you, for now.”
“Yeah, I suppose it will.”
He followed meekly. Well, as meekly as Caden could do anything.
He broke the silence with
“Why didn’t you believe me, Maddie?”
“Because you broke your word.”
“That’s not it.”
“Of course that’s it.”
She didn’t reply, and instead focused on getting them home. He kept trying to help her over bumps in the sidewalk, but his balance wasn’t that good, so she pretended to let him help her while she steadied him. By the time they got back to the house, Caden was noticeably stumbling. There was no sign of Ace, but the cinnamon buns were on the kitchen counter, properly drizzled. At least one man listened. With a push, she urged Caden into the living room.
“Sit on the couch.”
He sat in the chair.
“That’s not the couch,” she pointed out.
“So?” His big body dwarfed the little wingback she’d purchased. She worried the legs would snap. It was made for a woman’s delicate body, not a rawboned wrangler like him.
“That chair won’t hold you.”
“It’ll hold.” He pushed his hat back. It fell to the floor. He didn’t even look, but Maddie did. Caden never tossed his hat on the floor.
“Why did you leave the hotel, Maddie mine?”
“Because you left me.”
“I left you money for a month.”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“And at the end of the month I was going to be back.”
“I didn’t believe that.”
“I don’t believe you didn’t believe that.”
She knelt at his feet and tugged off his boots, first one and then the other. He moaned in relief.
“Those things are hot.”
His feet looked hot. They were red and sweaty, and quite frankly they smelled.
She went into the kitchen and got the footbath out from under the cabinet. She poured a bucket of well water into it and brought it along with soap and a cloth back to the room. One by one she lifted his feet and put them in.
He moaned again. “I like you on your knees.”
“Most men do.”
He shook his head. “Not for that reason. I don’t want you to beg. Well—” he reconsidered “—not that way.”
“Then why?”
She washed his feet gently.
“Maddie. I never meant to hurt you.”
“I know.”
“And I did come back.”
“I know.”
She could tell the alcohol was taking a stronger hold on him.
“We need to get you to bed.” She took his feet out of the bin and dried them gently. She might be mad at him and she might not want to be married to him, but she did love him.
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