His fingertips moved along his chin in a slow, repetitive pattern. "Is that the book I've heard so much about, the one with the pirates?"
That made her smile. "Yes, it is a pirate story. Where did you hear of it?"
"A fellow was going on about it in the barber shop a few months back. He was a young man visiting on break from a university back east. He spent the entire morning telling everyone in the shop about it. Said it was the best book he'd ever read."
She tended to agree. "There was a lot of excitement in the book, I thought. It's about a pirate crew searching for an island that's said to be full of treasure, and all the adventures they have trying to find it. Folks go overboard, there's mutiny, fighting, and all sorts of other things going on in that book."
"I may have to read it one day while I'm on duty and nothing needs to be done. Who wrote it?"
"A Robert Louis Stevenson. He lives in Scotland, I believe. You know, he's also had a more recent book published that's also popular, 'The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde'. I haven't read that one yet, but it was published just about two years ago."
"And how long has Treasure Island been in print?"
She squinted a bit, trying to remember the date printed in her well-worn copy of the tome. "I'm almost certain it came out back in '53."
He nodded. "Maybe I'll check out a copy of it, if they have it on hand. I don't read much but it does sound entertaining."
She giggled. "If the young man from the barber shop couldn't move you to read it, why would you bother now?"
"Something about the way you describe it makes me want to read it. If it can excite you, make your eyes light up this way, then I'd better see what it's all about."
Her cheeks warmed, and she cast her eyes downward. She'd never been one to play at being coy, but his words had touched her. She hadn't given any thought to it, but she supposed her demeanor had changed while she was describing her favorite book. She'd not had a conversation about literature with a man since Mr. Greenfield had retired and left her to run the saloon. He'd been the only other man she'd ever known who was both well read, and interested in discussing literature with her.
"There's something I wanted to ask you, Angel May."
His voice brought her back to the present, and she raised her gaze to meet his. "What is it?"
"I'd like to take you on a day trip, if that's acceptable."
Her interest piqued. She leaned over the arm of her chair, bringing her upper body closer to his. "Really? Where would we be going?"
"I have a very special destination in mind, but it's a surprise."
She thought on that for a moment. "If you won't tell me where we're going, how will I know how long the trip will take? And what sort of clothing should I wear?"
He released a deep, rumbling chuckle. "You're such a woman. Don't trouble yourself with the details, dear. Just let me handle everything."
She pursed her lips. "Come, now. You can't expect me to just run off with you to an unknown destination. I've a business to run, you know..."
He placed his big palm on her shoulder. The touch of his hand effectively cut off her complaint mid-sentence, as the warmth of his skin penetrated the thin fabric of her shirtwaist. He crooked the fingers of his other hand, and placed it beneath her chin.
Her mouth hanging aloft, she was forced to look directly into his penetrating gaze.
"Angel May, you may wear whatever you please. And the place I am taking you is within a day's journey. I'll pick you up just after breakfast, and return you home after the dinner hour. Does that suit you?"
She blinked once, then again. Looking into his eyes this way affected her ability to speak. He was so damned handsome her mind slowed, her thoughts were as scrambled as a basket full of baby chicks.
He repeated his question. "Does that suit you, sweetheart?"
The endearment make her cheeks feel even hotter. She wanted to say yes, tell him she'd go along to wherever it was he wanted to take her. But with midnight eyes focused so completely on her, she could only manage a feeble nod in response.
He smiled, as if pleased. "Good. I'm glad you agree. The trip will give me time to learn more about you."
She nodded again. He was still touching her, still looking at her.
Her lips tingled. Without thinking, she stuck her tongue out and swept it over them.
The quick gesture caught his eye. She saw his gaze dip a bit, knew he was watching her tongue travel over the surface of her lips.
He leaned his broad torso toward her, positioning his hands to cup her jawline gently. "God, you are lovely."
She sucked in a breath.
Before she could exhale again, he pressed his lips to hers.
The moment their mouths touched, she forgot the world around them. Every cell in her body became enraptured with the warmth of his hands cupping her face, the firm pressure of his lips against hers, and the teasing of the tip of his tongue as he beckoned her to open to him.
She was powerless to deny him full access to her mouth, so she relaxed her jaw. He slipped his tongue between her lips, and it soon became entangled with her own. She gripped his strong, solid shoulders and held on. The arm of the chair pressed into her belly as she leaned in as close as she could get.
A sudden rapping sound echoed through the space.
She pulled away from him, and as she opened her eyes and looked around, she remembered where they were. Her cheeks heated again, this time from embarrassment, as she searched for the source of the sound.
Prissy was still seated behind her desk, but she had a small gavel in her hand. It was the gavel she usually banged when the interior of the library became too loud, but Angel knew the rapping had been for them. She mouthed a silent apology to her friend, who merely gave her a toothy grin in response.
Gregory chuckled. "I suppose we got a bit carried away."
She nodded, feeling sheepish. "We did. Thank heavens there are no children present."
They shared a bit of mutual laughter over their behavior. She knew the gossips would be volleying stories back and forth about them all over town, but she didn't care. She'd kissed him in public, and the deed couldn't be taken back. Frankly, she'd rather enjoyed kissing her beau, and what others thought of it was of little concern to her.
Giving voice to her thoughts, he said, "The gossip is only going to get worse, you know."
She shrugged. "I don't care. If they don't have anything better to do, let them talk about us."
"That's a good attitude to have."
She reached for his hand, clasped it with his. "So, when are we taking this trip?"
"I have my next day off day after tomorrow. Can you get away then?"
"Sure. The saloon's closed on Sundays, and whatever work I need to do can be put off."
"Good, then it's settled. I'd better walk you home."
She got to her feet, still holding his hand.
He stood and picked up his hat. "Let me see about the book, then we'll be on our way."
They stopped at the desk, and he inquired about a copy of Treasure Island.
Prissy rifled around in one of the crates of books she kept behind the desk. "I've got one here somewhere, that someone just turned in... ah, here it is." She extracted a copy of the book from beneath a few others, and handed it to Gregory.
He took it, and placed his signature in the ledger.
The librarian placed the pen back in the ink pot. "My pleasure. It will be due back on November 3, the day before the elections."
He placed his Stetson on his head and tucked the book beneath his arm. "Thank you, Miss Parker. After hearing Angel May talk about it, I just had to read it."
She smiled up at him, and he gave her an affectionate peck on the forehead.
Prissy tittered. "My, you two are really sparking."
For the third time this evening, Angel had to contend with the heat filling her cheeks. It seemed being around Gregory meant spending a lot of the time either blushing or overcom
e. Parts of her wondered what she'd really gotten herself into by agreeing to court him, but the woman in her reveled in his attentions, and looked forward to all they could share. Getting to know him certainly wouldn't be dull, that much she knew.
He asked, "Are you ready, Angel May?"
Already moving toward the door, she nodded. "It's probably best, before Prissy takes a ruler to us."
He swiveled his head to look at her. "She can't do that. I'm the law."
She could only laugh as she shook our head. "If you think she won't, then you don't know our librarian very well."
He held the door open for her, and they stepped out into the damp evening air together.
***
Gregory was up before dawn on Sunday morning, getting ready for the day's excursion. As the light from the rising sun began to filter through the curtains of his room at the Taylor hotel, he stood before the small mirror hanging inside his wardrobe, straightening his tie. It had been years since he'd donned a suit as fine as this one to take a lady courting, and he knew he might be a bit rusty at this 'romance' thing. That wasn't going to stop him from doing his best to impress Angel May, and from getting to know as much about her as he could.
There was something about Angel May Lane that fascinated him, held him captive. What he knew of her now wasn't nearly enough to quench his curiosity. Today, they would spend two hours alone in a private coach he'd hired to take them to the Oakland Long Pier. He planned to spend the time in the coach conversing with her, touching her, and kissing her, away from the prying eyes of the nosy citizens of town. The idea of having her all to himself, even just for those two short hours, made a smile lift the corners of his mouth.
When they reached the pier, they would board a ferry carrying them across the bay to San Francisco. Once there, he had an afternoon planned that he hoped she would not soon forget. The city boasted many interesting sights and amusements to take in, but he'd chosen the one for them to visit that he thought she'd enjoy the most.
Satisfied with his appearance, he closed the wardrobe door. Gathering his hat and pocketing his wallet, he left his room and headed downstairs to the dining room.
It was just after seven, and the breakfast service was just beginning. When the hotel had first opened a few years ago, the dining room had only served pastries, tea, and coffee. Now the hotel's menu had been expanded to feature a light breakfast and dinner service, though it was still closed during the lunch hour. Most people in town brought a lunch with them to work; those that didn't visited Ruby's eatery.
He went directly to the buffet table, and made himself a plate. He then took his coffee and food to a table in the corner. As he ate the two biscuits filled with bacon and scrambled eggs, he took care not to soil his white shirt, or the jacket of his best black suit.
When he'd finished his breakfast, he moved to the counter. Kelly, the Taylor's daughter, saw him coming.
"Here you go, Deputy Simmons." She reached beneath the counter and hoisted a large basket up, handing it to him.
He thanked Kelly as he took the basket, containing the picnic meal he'd ordered for today's trip. With the handle of the basket firmly in his grasp, he placed his black Stetson atop his head and left the hotel.
A short stroll down the walk took him to the saloon, which was just next door. He leaned his back against the outer wall, by the swinging door, and waited as Angel has asked him to do the other night. Many of the folks who worked in town were already out on the walks and driving their vehicles down the road. A few of them cast curious glances in his direction. He merely tipped his hat to them. Yes, he was there to take Angel courting, but that wasn't any of their business. Their scrutiny reminded him of all the reasons he wanted to spirit her away from this place. Small town life could sometimes be stifling, and if they were truly going to make a go of this relationship, they'd need some privacy so they could get to know each other.
He heard her footsteps on the wooden floor inside the saloon before she opened the gate and stepped through the swinging doors and out onto the walk. He turned her way and offered a smile. "Good Morning, Angel May."
She returned his smile. "Good morning, Gregory. What's that you've got?" She gestured toward the large basket he carried.
He took a moment to let his eyes sweep over her. She'd chosen her usual clothing, a pair of denims that hugged her curves, along with a frilly yellow blouse. This one was cut a little differently than what he was used to, and covered her shoulders and collarbone. The pearl buttons were closed, right up to her throat. Her hair was pinned up at the crown of her head in some sort of chignon or bun. Whatever the style was called, it allowed him an unencumbered view of the smooth, angular lines of her face.
Her lips, painted a soft shade of red, parted again. "Gregory, did you hear me? What's in the basket?"
He snapped himself back to reality. "Sorry. You look so lovely today, I was distracted. Anyway, I have a picnic for us."
"Ah, another clue to today's mystery trip." She sucked on her bottom lip, her hazel eyes drifting upward as if she were thinking.
The gesture tantalized him. He knew she probably hadn't meant to tease him by suckling that lush lip, but that didn't stop his groin from tightening at the sight. He reached for her hand. "Let's go to the depot. Our coach will be here soon."
They waited a few moments for a lull in traffic, then crossed the road, hand in hand.
"Are we taking the stage to Oakland?"
He shook his head. "Not exactly. We are riding in a private coach."
Her eyes brightened with excitement as they stepped onto the walk in front of the depot. "A private coach. My, I feel quite special."
"Good." He led her to a bench and gestured for her to sit.
Within a few minutes, the black coach, trimmed with gold and red paint and emblazoned with the words "Myers Coach Line" pulled up.
He stood, gave a gentle tug to the hand he still held. "Come, here's our coach now."
She followed him to the coach. By now, the coachman had left his seat, and was holding open the door. "Welcome aboard Myers Coach Line. Watch you step, miss."
She nodded to the man, then let Gregory help her inside. Once he joined her on the seat, the coachman closed the door behind them.
Shortly, the coach got underway.
Sitting next to her in the silent interior of the coach, Gregory placed his arm around Angel's shoulders. She eased a bit closer to him, until her denim clad hip rested against his own. He relished the feeling of holding her close to his side, with no one around to infringe on their privacy.
She scrutinized him, as if taking in his attire. "Are you sure I'm dressed right? I feel a bit under dressed, with you in your nice suit."
"No. I wanted to dress my best for you, but what you're wearing is just fine for where we're going."
She looked skeptical. "I don't know..."
He touched her satin cheek. "Don't worry. You look beautiful in whatever you wear, and you don't need formal attire where we're going. I promise."
She took on that coy expression, fluttering those thick dark lashes. "If you say so. Now that you've got me in the coach, are you going to tell me where we're going?"
He thought about it, and decided not to keep her wondering any longer. "Alright. I'm taking you to San Francisco."
She jumped, eyes wide. "Truly?"
"Yes. We're going to Golden Gate Park, to visit the Conservatory of Flowers."
"My, that sounds wonderful."
"I hope you'll enjoy it. Once we reach the pier in Oakland, we'll get the ferry across the bay."
She reached up, touched his jaw with graceful fingertips. "Thank you for this, Gregory. I've never been to San Francisco."
"Really? Not even once? It's not very far away."
She sighed. "I know. I've been close, just once. The liquor supplier I use for the saloon has their warehouse and offices outside the city limits, but I've never been to the city itself."
Knowing that he would be there to
see her experience the vibrant city for the first time pleased him.
She gifted him with a soft kiss on the cheek. "I can't believe you're doing all this for me. The private coach, the ferry, the conservatory. It's really too much."
"Nothing could be too much for you, Angel May."
Her sparkling, tear damp eyes met his.
He knew at that moment that if they didn't start conversing, and soon, he would spend the entire coach ride kissing her, touching her, and possibly coaxing her right out of her clothes.
She removed a handkerchief from the pocket of her denims, dabbed her eyes. "What shall we do to pass the time?"
He could think of many things he'd like to do, none of which were appropriate while riding in a coach with a woman who was not his wife. "Let's talk. Tell me about your upbringing."
She leaned back against his arms, her gaze drifting up to the velvet lining of the coach's roof. "I grew up right outside of Ridgeway. My mother Lucille was a schoolteacher, and my aunt was an actress with a touring company. We went to the old Unity AME church..."
He listened intently, and noted that even though she was forthcoming about her childhood, she'd left something significant out. He watched her face as she spoke, wondering why she hadn't mentioned her father.
She paused, as if noticing his regard. "What is it?"
"I noticed you didn't mention a father."
Her expression changed, taking on a sadness he hadn't expected to see. "I never knew him. My mother knew his identity, but because they never married, she didn't like to speak of him. Whenever I asked, she simply told me it wasn't important."
He was a bit shocked to hear that. His own upbringing had been the opposite of hers. While she'd been reared by two women who loved her, he'd been surrounded by men. Other than his mother, all the people who influenced him as child had been male.
A silent moment passed as he wrestled with another question. He didn't want to cause her any more pain, but something compelled him to ask it. "Did you ever try to find him?"
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