“I’m right here. But things have changed.”
“They certainly have.” Maybe he’d kiss her. With no warning. It was Valentine’s Day after all. But there’d be more holidays to come if he did this right. “When things are settled at home, may I come to Chicago and call on you?”
He waited, worry needling him at her hesitation. “Amber?”
“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”
He could breathe again.
“I’ll speak to Miss Colter about things tomorrow,” she went on. “Then I’ll have a better idea about the future.”
“I’d like to speak with you about that, too.”
She smoothed his lapels, and stepped closer, wetting her lips.
“Well lookie here.” Barley and Mrs. Bunch entered the hallway.
Great timing, folks.
“Where have you been?” Amber asked.
Mrs. Bunch wore a dress. Widow’s weeds, but a dress. “We watched you two dancing from over in the corner.”
“And we so enjoyed your singing, didn’t we, Mr. Morrison?”
“It’s always a pleasure, ma’am.” He appraised Barley’s new look. “So why aren’t you two dancing?”
“I hurt my back the other day,” explained Barley. “Thinking I was a young man again, I guess.”
“He kicked that water trough over and slowed that fire by the depot,” Mrs. Bunch said, eyeing her date with admiration. She put a hand on his arm. “You’re a good man.”
Barley blushed pink under his thin white, and clean—therefore fluffy—hair.
“Listen you two,” Barley said, shaking his head. “I’ve done everything to get you together and I’m here to finish the job. For goodness sakes, son. Kiss the girl.”
Amber’s laughter gave every indication she approved.
Stone licked his lips. “Why not?”
“Indeed,” she answered albeit a little breathlessly.
He leaned down. “Wait.” He turned his attention to Barley and Mrs. Bunch. “Will you two follow your own advice and give us some privacy?”
“Smartest thing you’ve ever said,” Barley pronounced, taking Mrs. Bunch’s arm. “That gave me an idea.”
“Oh you old coot.” She gave him a peck on the cheek.
Stone watched Amber lift her chin expectantly. This was it. “May I?”
“You may.”
“I mean business here, Miss Wynott. Just warning you.”
The door burst open with another blast of winter and a large woman wrapped in fur. “Where’s Mr. Eliot? Some fools up on the roof with a torch!”
Stone took in Amber’s shocked face and was on the move.
“Wait. Your coat!” She tossed it to him. “I’ll get help!”
Chapter Nine
Crown—the high point or apex
Close on the bellboy’s heels, Stone was already breathing heavily.
If he moved fast enough he wouldn’t be able to change his mind.
“This way, sir. You can get up there from the observation deck.”
Doubt crept up the back of his neck until his entire face prickled with it. Amber hurried to keep up, still holding his hand, needing reassurance he couldn’t give. When the door opened, an icy gust assaulted them.
She let him go. “Be careful.”
If Joe Bunch had come with the intent of setting a fire, he had a mean wind on his side. The viewing deck rose three stories above the sloping ground. Stone had been up here once, and ran to the built-in ladder.
Lord help me.
He scaled the rungs, pausing when he could see over the eaves. There, on the higher portion of the hotel, the torch danced in the wind, licking back and forth toward Joe as if he didn’t feel its heat.
“Joe! Stop!” Stone’s shouts were lost to the February wind as he pulled himself up onto the roof, up on his knees, and then crouched. The roof slope was tolerable. He could walk it—better in his work boots—but he could do this.
All the stars in the sky told him so.
Stone rushed forward. If the turret burned, it would take flames and smoke down through every floor of the hotel.
“Stop. Don’t be a fool.”
This time Joe paused—nothing more than a pale face above dark clothes—then disappeared.
A wind gust shoved Stone but carried his name up from the hill below. His legs shook. He froze.
If he went to his hands and knees now, it was over.
He had to keep moving even if his heart threatened to burst.
Sparks streaked in the wind. That mean burning wood.
Stone slipped as he rounded on Joe. Flames rolled up from the base of the turret. He grabbed the torch. Joe didn’t fight for it. Stone flung it, creating an arch of fire across the night sky before it fell out of sight. Joe dropped to his knees, sobbing.
“Help me put this out!” Stone tore off his coat to smother the flames. Sparks flew into the sky. “Get up.”
Then Joe was at his side, blanketing the flames with his jacket. But it wasn’t Joe.
Billy.
“We can’t stop, or the whole thing will go.”
Flames darted around him, fueled by the wind, searing his hands.
It was done. He found the comfort of the roof and rolled over onto his back, struggling to catch his breath.
Billy’s coughs broke into a wail.
Stone crawled to him, grabbed him, holding the distraught boy against his shoulder. “Why did you do this? Why?”
“I wanted it all to stop.” Billy swiped his wet face with his filthy hands. “She told me what would happen to our place if things didn’t change.”
“Who are you talking about?”
“Gram.”
Billy was shivering. So was Stone. Soaked with sweat, the cold wind cut through him but didn’t chill the stinging pain in his hands. “Come on. Let’s go.”
More men had joined them.
“They’ll arrest me.”
“You can’t stay up here.”
~
Amber had lost them in the darkness.
“There, Miss!” Gretchen pointed at the back door of the kitchen.
Amber recognized Stone, then Billy and rushed towards them, right into Stone’s embrace. His neck was cold under her hands and he stank of acrid smoke. But he was safe.
“They’re watering it down now,” he told her, coughing. “And my coat.”
She stood back to look him over. “Are you hurt?”
He raised his hands. Even the cold air stung his skin.
“Billy!” Behind them the boy’s family surrounded him.
“Take him home, Joe,” Stone directed, between hacking coughs. “Mr. Eliot and I will be out in the morning. I’ll see he’s treated fairly.” The dog, Teddy, insisted on rubbing up against them.
“I’m okay, girl.” Stone leaned down and got a sloppy lick on the chin. “You’re a good girl but I can’t pet you right now.”
Barley and Mrs. Bunch joined them. Lamplight reflected off the tears on her lined face.
Stone waved them ahead. “Let’s all go inside. We need to get this straightened out.”
Amber stared at Stone. Why was he being like this? Couldn’t he see Mrs. Bunch’s distress?
Inside, he went straight to a table lamp and examined his hands.
Amber winced when he flexed his fingers. Red and blistered. “What do you have for burns, Mrs. Bunch?” Even his forehead was red and blotchy.
“Never mind that now,” Stone said, coughing into his handkerchief. “I’ll try to intervene, but there’s no way to keep this quiet.”
The old gal nodded. But what was he talking about?
Barley put his arm around Mrs. Bunch’s shoulders. “What did Billy say up there?”
“Billy thought it would solve things for everyone. You know why, Maybelle.”
“Will someone tell me what’s going on?” Amber asked.
“I should never have talked to Billy about things. He…” Her voice was unusually frail, fu
ll of tears. She buried her face against Barley’s new coat.
“I’m sorry, ma’am.” Stone struggled for words. “I’ll do what I can but you’ll all have to talk to the sheriff.” Joe included. What had he said in front of Billy?
“It’s time, Maybelle,” Barley agreed, rubbing her back. “Things have gone on too long.”
She wiped her face with her sleeve. “Barley stopped the fire at the depot. It was foolish of me. I’m to blame for anything Billy did. I should have told him, told everyone it was time to move on.” She sniffed, and looked up at Barley. “I’ve made a mess of things. I’m sorry.”
“Go on home. We’ll see to it tomorrow,” Stone said, clearly disappointed.
When the old couple were gone, Amber went to Stone, slipping a hand around his still-cold neck, but careful of his injury. “Your hands. You’ve got to see to them. And your face.”
“I will.”
“Now. I’ll wire for a doctor to come up tonight.”
He sat down hard on the upholstered chair. “Don’t bother. I’m still planning on taking the afternoon train.” For the first time since the fire, his face softened into a more familiar, and ironic grin. “And before you ask again, I have burn cream in my room from the last time.”
She caressed his head and felt the sharp, singed edges of hair. “It was Billy who struck you, then?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t believe it. Neither can I believe you had to go up on that roof.”
“Don’t remind me.” He narrowed his gaze. “But no one needs to know about…you know.”
“What are you afraid of? Losing your job?”
He motioned her closer. “I’ll just be your hero, all right? Keep it between you and me? I don’t even want to think about it or you’ll have to help me up the stairs.” He stood and pulled her to his side—carefully. “In fact, that’s a good idea.”
“I could hardly breathe while you were up there.”
“I’m okay. It’s over.”
Along their way to the stairs, people patted Stone on the back, calling out congratulations and their thanks. Many people milled about, warming themselves by the fireplaces and comparing thoughts on what they’d witnessed while the ragtime trio played on.
Stone acknowledged everyone but didn’t slow down until he reached the landing. “You sure about this?”
“Yes.”
Upon reaching the second floor, Stone tipped his head. “My room is thataway.”
“And mine is thataway.”
He chuckled, which made him cough. “Sorry.” He shifted toward her. “Wasn’t I just about to kiss you when this started?”
Amber tried to appear perplexed. “I can’t recall.” Her nerves were still so rattled she could easily laugh or cry. “Goop
‘] take care of those burns, Mr. Morrison.” She should go to his room and do it herself. It just wasn’t a good idea. “I’m not kissing you now with a crowd watching.” She glanced over the rail—there was an interested audience all right. She should smile, but her heart was breaking over the Bunch family and what they’d have to face.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Stone offered. “And probably the sheriff. Mr. Eliot will have to submit a report on what’s been happening, but I’ll speak to the board myself in St. Louis.”
“Will they arrest them?”
“Billy for sure. If Mrs. Bunch tells the truth like I think she will, then she’ll likely lose her job.”
Amber’s heart ached. What an awful shame. She looked up at Stone. “Go to your room. Go on. Good night.”
Stone left her, circling the mezzanine until he was across the open space from her.
“Wait.” She hadn’t moved, not yet, but now hurried around to meet him again. “Who was that woman?”
“What woman?”
“The pretty one at the party.”
“Pretty, huh?” He cocked a brow at her. “You mean Charity. We’d met years ago. Her father is in banking.”
“What brought her out here?”
“I suppose she wanted to see the Canyon.”
“In winter? Is she alone?”
He studied his shoes.
“She knew you were here. Did your father send her?”
“No.” He said it but she didn’t think he believed it. “I hardly think she, or her family, would agree to come out here on a whim.”
Like he thought she had? “Will you see her again tomorrow?”
“Right now I don’t even remember if we made plans or not.” He took hold of her shoulder with his good hand, winced, but didn’t let go. “Amber Wynott. When I ran across that roof tonight, I thought of one thing. It wasn’t land claims, or my job, and it certainly wasn’t about Charity. It was to do what I had to do so I could get back to you. Whether I work for Fred Harvey or go back to Morrison Financial, there’s only one thing that’s important to me.”
This man was going to be the end of her, if her heart rate was any proof. “Now is not the time to tease. I was so frightened for you.”
“I’ve never been more serious in my life.” He moved her closer to the wall. Away from the spectators.
The intensity of his gaze in the glow of the gaslight sconce said more than any words. He held her waist and when he focused on her mouth, she closed her eyes. His breath, his beard tickled her forehead before the warmth of his mouth replaced it. He lingered there, and then with gentle pressure he nudged his way down to her mouth. If she’d ever been kissed like this before, she would have remembered.
His skin was cold but it was his lips that sent chills down her neck. She sucked air, as he pulled her closer.
Her hands slipped up his back in answer.
She’d have expected him to kiss her soundly, but the tender way his calloused hand cupped her face was far more powerful. Rough hands. Soft kisses. She wanted more. Even if he tasted like smoke. More of his warmth, his masculinity, his promise.
She pulled away.
“Amber,” he whispered. “What’s wrong?”
“This happened so fast. I’m not sure.”
But he kissed her again, his mouth moving as if tasting hers before he released her. “It’s all right. I promise.”
His embrace soothed her and she pressed her head under his chin.
He stroked her head. She had to look up into his eyes. How could she have been so sure of herself, yet so naïve?
Now she knew why the condors flew in pairs.
She sunk against him, unsure she could stand alone.
“Amber, look at me.”
She did, though she bordered on being light-headed.
“Don’t let me mess this up, will you?”
She laughed and traced his jawline until she saw him wince. “I’ll try. This is not why I came to Arizona.” She ran her finger across his mustache. It must have tickled, because he brushed at it with his fingertips.
Amber stayed in his arms but leaned back to study him again. “Why did you kiss me right here in the hallway?”
He laughed out loud. “Oh sweetheart. Why not?”
“Just so you know, I’ll be speaking with Charity. I have my own designs on you, Stone Morrison, and I’m not about to give up.”
He put a smoky finger to her lips. “She never had a chance.”
Chapter Ten
Symmetry—a characteristic by which two sides complement each other
“Is this yours?”
Amber turned to face Miss Colter, who’d joined her in the private dining room.
“Wherever did you find that?” Amber took the sketchbook and hugged it to her chest. “I looked for it in my room this morning.”
“Apparently you left it out at Hermit’s Rest, with Mr. Morrison’s notes.”
“I don’t think so.”
Miss Colter motioned for Amber to sit. “I admit I flipped through it. Very nice work, Amber.”
Her embarrassment faded but she didn’t know what to say.
“Do you also paint?”
“Oils, ye
s. But I’ve been busy. Studying architecture.” This was the big moment. She watched Miss Colter’s face.
“So your time here has been instructive?”
Pink crept up her neck, and she bit her lip. “Yes. Very.”
“If you believe you’re ready to commit to this, I’ll support you, but I must tell you, it’s a difficult program. Only you know if you’re ready for the challenge.”
Amber swallowed with difficulty. “About that, ma’am. I’m not sure I am.”
Miss Colter removed her glasses. “Is that right?”
“I admire your skills, Miss Colter, but it’s not for me.”
“I can’t say I’m not disappointed. I’d like to see more women in the field. But I do admire your willingness to try. Even more so to admit you were wrong. You have a bright future, Miss Wynott. It’s just up to you where it will be.”
“Thank you. Your encouragement has meant so much. But I think I’ll stick with my art.” The truth was, those blueprints gave her a headache. “I’m not sure I would have ever mastered the engineering.”
And bluster would only get her so far. She wasn’t sure she had the tough skin she’d need to compete in a man’s world.
“Why don’t you prepare your portfolio and apply as an artist? You’ve seen Mr. Moran’s work. We could certainly use another artist with your skill. Don’t paint like him. Paint like yourself.”
“Oh, golly.”
“Now, before you get too excited, remember this is just my opinion. The board at Fred Harvey will also have to be impressed.” Miss Colter sat back. “So, what do you think?”
“Yes, ma’am!”
~
Stone waited in the Dodge, enjoying the heat emanating from the engine. When Amber exited El Tovar’s grand entry, he opened his door and waved. She hurried over, glowing like sunshine. Instead of having the morning together as they’d wanted, they’d been pulled in separate directions.
She shivered and with a giggle, removed her hat. “Are we going somewhere?”
“I thought it would be a nice place to speak in private. But shifting this thing is painful. You don’t happen to know how to drive, do you?”
Why Not (A Valentine Matchmaker novella) Page 9
