Chapter 25
You Old Charmer
A chorus of chirping—so loud it felt as if the birds were in the room with her—and sunshine streaming through the cracks and tiny holes in her walls woke Charlotte the next morning.
She pulled the sheet over her head, burrowing into her pillow, and vowed to move, sealing the gaps to the top of her repair list so she could sleep past dawn.
Perhaps that would also mute the obnoxious birds.
A metallic clink near the bed made her roll over. Seeing Seth buckling on his gun holster unleashed a torrent of memories from the night before. The tender ache between her legs confirmed he hadn’t been a dream.
“Good morning,” he murmured, his voice huskier than usual from sleep.
“Is it?” she replied. “You’re leaving.”
“Sorry, darlin’, but I have to get to work.”
“Oh,” she said, masking her disappointment by reaching for her robe and slipping it on as she sat up. She was the one adamant about only one night, after all. “Let me make you coffee before you go. And there are a few of Letty Jackson’s muffins left.”
“Tempting, but I really don’t have time.
” He crouched before her, his height nearly matching hers, seated on the bed.
“It’s not as tempting as crawling back into bed with you, but we slept late.
Let me make up for running off by taking you to supper tonight.
You can’t get much closer to home cooking than the Laramie Restaurant. ”
“No,” she replied, the residual warmth from the night before vanishing.
“Somewhere else, then?”
“Nowhere else,” she insisted. “Please don’t make this harder than it has to be. The town won’t accept me with you—ever.”
“And I told you I don’t care,” he replied calmly, but she could see the determination in his eyes.
“I’m sorry, but the answer is and always will be no.”
A low growl rumbled in his chest. “I didn’t know you could be so stubborn!”
“I prefer determined,” she countered, “especially when I’m right.”
“Fine,” he conceded. Yet, what he said next proved he wasn’t giving in at all. “I’ll bring supper when I return tonight.”
“But, Seth, I just told you—”
“I heard you,” he interrupted, his fingers gently caressing her cheek, “and I’ll protect our secret, for now. But I’m not leaving you out here alone more than I have to.”
Seth leaned in and kissed her, and all her intelligent arguments for why they couldn’t work melted away.
Pulling away, he made a promise. “I’ll see you tonight, and nothing you say will change my mind.”
“And you call me stubborn,” she muttered.
“That’s part of it. I also have a hankering for fried chicken, and the Laramie has the best.” He rose, adding as he strode across the room, “Then there’s the matter of your bed. It’s a hell of a lot more comfortable than mine.”
“Fried chicken and a soft bed—is that what tonight’s about?” she asked, miffed that she came in third place even as she tried to push him away.
He paused at the door, a playful glint in his eyes. “Damn straight. I slept better than ever last night.”
“Oh, you old charmer,” she purred.
He chuckled softly. “My amazing sleep wasn’t about the bed. It was the woman in it. See you at supper, darlin’.”
With one last lingering look, he left.
Once his footsteps had faded, she flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, and couldn’t help but smile.
He ignited a passion within her that no other man ever had.
Not Carson, who she admitted was a girlish infatuation, or Fen, who was an excellent lover with a wandering eye.
Unlike Seth, neither had made her scream his name.
Maybe, like they say, the third time is the charm. Or had fate brought him into her life to torture her even more?
Undoubtedly, it was the latter. Fate had shown her repeatedly, by giving her a glimmer of hope, only to cut her off at the knees, that it could be a cruel bitch indeed.
***
That evening, he arrived by wagon filled with wood to replace the door and new latches for the front and back.
While he installed everything with remarkable speed and skill, she fried up the potatoes he brought to go with the best fried chicken she had ever tasted, and this was a Southern girl saying that.
Then he left her breathless with his passion and held her in his arms while they slept.
He arrived with beef stew the following night and a full-size tin tub. He helped her haul water from the creek. With the two extra buckets he brought, they had her bath prepared in less than half the time. And the bigger tub allowed him to slip in behind her.
“You fight dirty, Sheriff,” she accused, leaning back against his chest.
“Whatever it takes to win you over,” was his reply as he sluiced water over her shoulders and followed the rivulets that ran over her breasts with his fingers.
She turned in his arms, slippery and soapy, and things turned heated. The water had cooled, and half was on the floor by the time they got out and dried off.
The next night was the eve of her appearance before Judge Simpson. She’d been on edge all day when Seth arrived with bad news.
“The judge wired that he’s delayed a few days. I’m sorry, Charlotte.”
She sank into one of the kitchen chairs, defeated. “The longer we stay closed, the harder it will be to reopen. It’s just not fair.” Tears pricked her eyes as she looked up at him. “And the bank is worse. How do they expect anyone, especially a woman alone, to survive without money?”
“You aren’t alone. You have me.” He took her hand and laid a stack of bills, with a band denoting one hundreds like at the bank, in her palm.
“What’s this?”
“Enough to pay your people and reopen when this gets resolved.”
“Where did you get it?”
“It’s mine. I would have offered it sooner, but getting it transferred to the local bank took time. I’ve been so busy since I arrived, I didn’t think about it until you had your troubles.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything. Just know you can always count on me.”
“I’m starting to see that, but I can’t take your money.”
“Why not?” he asked, eyebrows furrowing as if offended.
“I don’t know if the judge will rule in my favor. If he doesn’t, I couldn’t repay you.”
“Did I ask you to?” he countered.
She stared at the thick wad of cash, easily five or six thousand dollars. “This is a lot of money.”
“I have more,” he replied.
“You do?” she asked, astonished. He lived modestly and worked for a living.
“Not here in Laramie, at least not until the transfers are completed. I traveled a lot, and never put down roots, so I have accounts at branches in several states.”
“I didn’t know bounty hunting was so…rewarding.”
He pulled her close, laughing at her pun.
But she pushed away and handed the stack back to him. “I’ll wait until the judge makes his ruling. If he sides with Quentin, then I might have to accept your generous offer, but it will be a loan. I’ll pay you back, I swear.”
His eyes rolled to the ceiling, and he took a breath. Seconds ticked by, and she knew he was counting to ten.
She cupped his face between his hands. “Don’t think I don’t appreciate the offer, or you.”
“This is the strangest arrangement I’ve ever had with a woman. You won’t take my money. We can’t be seen together, not at dinner or anywhere in town—”
“I’ll understand if you want to end it,” she whispered, although it hurt her heart to say so. She had ignored Elise’s sage advice and lost her heart to him already.
“I don’t want to end what we have. I want more. To woo you like any other man would a sweetheart.”
“Woo me?” she asked, suppressing a smile at the old-fashioned word from a man under fifty.
“Court,” he corrected in a grumble. “It shouldn’t be this way, hiding because of what others might think.”
“I’m sorry, Seth, but it’s what’s best for you.”
“And you, Charlotte? What’s best for you?”
She cuddled close, arms wrapped tightly around him, feeling the warmth of his body against hers.
A sad smile curved her lips when he returned her embrace.
She offered no reply because it wasn’t one he would accept.
With absolute certainty, she knew he was right for her.
But it wasn’t right for him—the one with the most to lose.
***
Seth surprised her the next day by riding up at noon.
“Is something wrong?” she asked as she rushed out to meet him.
“There was a robbery at First National. A teller was shot.”
“Oh no!” she exclaimed, regretting all the bad thoughts she’d had about the bank over the past few weeks.
“I’m heading out after them.”
“Not alone!”
“Three of my deputies, Mayor Jackson, and a half dozen other men are going with me.”
“Aaron Jackson seems to miss his marshal days,” she observed. “He knows what he’s doing. Do the others?”
“They can ride and shoot, and they’re also riled up because they had deposits at the bank.” He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her up against him. “Try not to worry.”
“Impossible,” she replied, twining her arms around his neck. “What does it say about me if I’m taking a small bit of satisfaction from this? Not the teller being shot. Never that.”
“It’s understandable after the headaches they’ve caused you, but you understand, some of the money they stole was yours, right?”
Not having considered that possibility, her brows drew together in a frown. “There is that I suppose.”
His lips against hers made her forget about money and sent spirals of warmth racing through her body. Too bad it was over far too soon.
He raised his head, his eyes locking with hers, and explained, besides the kiss goodbye, his purpose for coming.
“I’ll be late getting back, if I’m back at all tonight. I talked to your neighbor, George Gleason. He’s got an extra room—”
“And a younger sister whose mother wouldn’t want me around her young daughter.”
“There’s another option. Janelle and Jenny Jackson suggested—”
She shook her head, interrupting again. “Their husbands wouldn’t approve.”
“They were on board—”
Preferring to be at home rather than causing trouble for her friends, she insisted, talking over him, “I’ll be fine on my own, Seth. Really.”
He laid two fingers across her lips. “Will you at least hear me out? They suggested you stay with your ladies at the Jackson cabin.”
A beat of silence passed as she weighed the notion, then she decisively rejected it. “After the judge’s decision, I might be here permanently. I have to learn to fend for myself.”
His grin had vanished, replaced by a scowl. It made him no less handsome.
“I don’t like it, Charlotte. I worry.”
“I know,” she replied, sliding her hands up his chest and linking them behind his neck. “When you get back, we’ll have target practice. Maybe when you see I can defend myself, you’ll feel better about leaving.”
And in the meantime, she would ask Wisteria to return for another lesson to make sure she could back up her claim.
“I’ll never be okay with you being here alone for days on end, but target practice is always beneficial,” he said grudgingly.
“Be careful and come home to me in one piece.” She stood on her toes, straining to meet his lips but coming short.
He met her halfway, saying, before his mouth covered hers, “I refuse to call your shack a home, but you give me something to return to. So that’s a promise I intend to keep.”
The kiss quickly escalated. Despite his claim not to have time, he swept her inside and laid her on the rickety kitchen table.
Charlotte didn’t utter a single complaint, rucking up her skirt and helping him with his buttons.
His length fell heavy into her hand, and she guided him to her heat.
They both sighed with pleasure as he filled her.
Their hungry kisses with tongues entwined, drowned out all other sounds except the rhythmic smack of skin against skin.
It was much too fast for her liking, but he brought her to pleasure as always.
Afterward, one of the legs splintered with a loud crack while he helped her up.
Charlotte spun. The old table, always uneven, tilted more to the right. “It’s a wonder we didn’t end up on the floor.”
“Ah, the splendor of Chez Charlotte,” he muttered, still not happy with the situation. He framed her face with his hands, giving her one last lingering kiss. Releasing her, he declared, “If this place is still standing come spring, I’ll eat my hat!”
“It has a hidden charm that’s growing on me,” she called after him as he strode to the door, buttoning and adjusting his pants and gun belt.
“Yeah, it’s so well hidden, no one can see it but you,” was his parting comment.