Catalina forced her heart to calm down. She didn’t believe in false hope. “Just because he’s winning does not mean he wants to spend his winnings.”
“He’s got to spend his money on somethin’,” Anne said. “What else would he spend it on?”
This was nonsense. “Food, clothings, a horse, whiskey…”
“She’s right,” Emily had to admit.
Anne planted her fists on her hips. “Whose side are you on?”
Emily bristled at that.
“All I’m sayin’ is,” Anne continued, “this could be your regular, Catalina.”
Her regular. That was what all the shady ladies longed for—a man they could think of as a husband, a man who would be there for them, as constant as the rising of the sun.
It was a pleasant thought. She could imagine spending every night with Drew Hawk—talking about their childhoods, giggling in their bed, snuggling together under the covers. She would love to be able to look at the pillow beside her and see his beautiful face as he slept.
But as Miss Hattie liked to say, her head was not full of stuffing.
“What will be, will be,” she said, shaking out the dress she’d just finished and holding it up in front of her in the mirror.
“Oh, my,” Emily crooned. “That’s wonderful.”
“Is that for Jenny?” Anne asked.
Catalina nodded.
“She’ll outshine us all,” Emily said.
“Did you figure that out yourself?” Anne asked. “The ribbons and whatnot?”
“Of course.”
Anne studied the dress. “Do you think you could do somethin’ like that with a few o’ my old rags?”
Catalina shrugged. “It is possible.”
Emily looked longingly at the dress, reaching out to caress the ruffles in the front. “That’s real pretty. My frocks could use a freshenin’ up too. Would you have time to take a look at ’em? I’d pay you.”
It was on the tip of Catalina’s tongue to refuse her offer of payment. But then she reconsidered. She’d learned to her chagrin that the twenty dollars she’d earned last night was in fact only half hers. The other half belonged to Miss Hattie. Of course, it made perfect sense. Miss Hattie owned The Parlor, after all, and kept the ladies housed and fed. But it meant that earning enough for her sewing machine would take that much longer.
As for Anne and Emily, when Catalina’s business was thriving, she would make special dresses for them for free. But for now, she had to save every penny she could.
“Bring them in,” she said. “I will look at them.”
The three ladies spent half an hour poring over the dozen dresses between them. Catalina saw a lot of possibilities—ways to make the gowns more stylish, ways to make a more flattering fit, ways to add lace and bows here and there for interest. By the time Anne and Emily left to begin work, their eyes were shining with excitement. Catalina wished she could start on the dresses right away.
But there were other chores to do. She had to wash the dishes from dinner and sweep the floors.
Still, her mind was so full of ideas for making over her friends’ gowns that she completely forgot about Drew Hawk.
As she sidled past the ladies strutting on the balcony and started down the stairs, her breath caught at the sight of him, playing cards with three other men at one of the tables. His hair was glossy in the lamplight, and his sleeves were neatly rolled up to his elbows, revealing muscular forearms. He dealt the cards with practiced dexterity. And even though he had a casual look about him, as if he hadn’t a care in the world, she could see him studying the other players.
She continued down the stairs, and the motion made him glance up, twice. The second time, his face broke into a small smile of pleased recognition.
Her heart fluttered. She’d forgotten how appealing he was, with his twinkling eyes and his sly grin.
“Hawk!” one of the other men barked. “Your move.”
Drew turned his attention back to the game, and she tried to stop her racing heart. It was no use longing for what she couldn’t have. Drew Hawk was not a foolish man. He knew he’d wasted his money last night. He wouldn’t do it again. She just hoped, if he was seeking entertainment, he wouldn’t choose Anne or Emily. Or Amanda, who was too cruel. Or Mary, who was too pretty for her own good. Or Jenny, who was too young for him. Or…or any of them.
She sighed. What was wrong with her, she didn’t know. It wasn’t like she owned him. He was a free man. He could spend his money where he liked.
Besides, she had dishes to do.
Chapter 12
Drew almost missed the bald man’s tell. He’d allowed himself to be distracted by the beautiful woman coming down the stairs.
She was even more mouthwatering than he remembered. Her hair was mostly up, but a few tempting strands had come loose to tease at her neck. Her lips were slightly parted, and he knew exactly how they tasted. She might be wearing that same faded blue dress, but now he could imagine vividly what was beneath it.
His inattention might well have cost him the game. But the bald man softly cleared his throat, as he had every time he’d been dealt a good hand. Drew folded.
Sure enough, the bald man took everyone else’s money, crowing with unsportsmanlike glee. Then he proceeded to count it in front of them.
“Looks like I might have enough to buy me that twenty-dollar whore,” he announced.
“She ain’t for sale.” That rolled off of Drew’s tongue, all by itself. He hadn’t even known he was going to say it.
“What do you mean?”
“The lady ain’t for sale,” he repeated.
“Who says?”
“I do.”
“What are you, her brother or somethin’?”
“Nope.”
“Well, then, mister, I don’t think it’s up to you.” He scraped his chair back and stood, motioning Miss Hattie over.
Drew bit the inside of his cheek. He didn’t intend to let the cocky bastard sleep with Cat.
When the madam came to the table, the man said, “I want to buy me that new twenty-dollar ride.”
Drew waited for the madam to tell him she wasn’t for sale and to offer him another girl for ten, just as she’d been doing all day.
But this time she didn’t.
Instead, she glanced once at Drew and then addressed the man. “Is that so? You got that kind o’ money?”
Drew’s heart shot into his throat. “She ain’t for sale.”
The bald man grinned. “I got all kinds o’ money.” He tapped his fingers next to his pile of coins.
Miss Hattie looked impressed. “Well, then, it looks like you’re gonna have yourself a—”
“I already bought her.” It was the only thing Drew could think to say.
The bald man smirked. “Sure, you did.”
“That’s right,” Drew said, standing, scooping up all his winnings, and dumping them into the madam’s hands. “Bought and paid for.”
“Now wait just a goldarn minute. I claimed her first.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“I sure as hell did.”
“I already put my bid in on her.”
“Your bid? A bid ain’t worth shit. And besides, you don’t have twenty dollars. You lost the last two hands.”
He was right. But Drew wasn’t going to let him know that. And he dearly hoped the madam wasn’t counting his money, because it was definitely shy of twenty dollars.
“Boys, boys.” Miss Hattie dropped the coins into her reticule, sidled up to the bald man, and looped her arm around his elbow. “There’s no need to fight. We got plenty o’ girls. Tell you what, my good man. I’ve got a couple o’ sweet ladies up there who’ll do you real good. You can have ’em both for twenty dollars.”
“Both?” The man frowned. “At the same time?”
The madam cocked her head. “Unless you don’t think you can handle ’em both.”
The man’s eyes gleamed. “Oh, I can handle ’em all
right.”
Miss Hattie called up to the balcony. “Anne! Emily! Let the nice man see your pretty selves.”
Two ladies leaned over the balustrade, showing off their assets.
The bald man nodded and left his stash on the table. “Take it,” he said to the madam. Then he bounded up the stairs.
The other two poker players picked up their slim winnings and bid Drew good night.
“Here.” Miss Hattie poured a glass of whiskey and handed it to him. “Sit down.”
Drew sat down.
The madam sat next to him and murmured, “Now we both know that wasn’t twenty dollars.”
“I’m good for it, I promise. I’ll—”
She interrupted him with a laugh. “Honey, the way I see it, I’ve already turned a tidy profit from your little extravagant purchase last night. Men came from all over to take a gander at a twenty-dollar hooker. And most of ’em stayed to get half-price entertainment. So I’m not gonna make a fuss if you’re a few dollars short.”
Drew nodded. The madam was indeed a shrewd businesswoman. Not only had she gotten the bald man’s twenty dollars. She’d gotten all of Drew’s cash.
He thought she’d probably make a good poker player.
Thankfully, he was a good poker player, too. He was bluffing. That wasn’t all of his money. He had a small stash at the bottom of his satchel. But he didn’t like to touch it unless it was an emergency.
“Now there’s still the matter o’ Catalina,” Miss Hattie continued. She poured herself a finger of whiskey and tossed it back, then gave her head a shake. “Call me crazy, but I won’t make my girls do anything they don’t want to. Catalina, she’s special. This ain’t her regular line o’ work. And I got to be frank with you, if she says no, you got to respect that.”
“O’ course.” He lowered his eyes to his whiskey. “I know you prob’ly think I’m a no-count gambler, but my mama taught me a thing or two about women. If Catalina doesn’t want me to touch her, I won’t.”
“As long as we’re clear.”
“Yep.”
“One other thing,” she said, putting her hand atop his forearm. “It could get real pricey for you, payin’ to keep all the other gents away from her. If you’ve got that much of a soft spot for the little lady, you might think about makin’ an honest woman out of her.”
“Whoa, hold on now. I think you’ve got the wrong idea.” Marriage and Drew Hawk were as compatible as oil and vinegar. “I’m a rover. A man like me can’t be tied down. Besides, I’ve only known the lady for a day.”
“And yet there’s already somethin’ goin’ on between you two,” Miss Hattie said. “I’ve been around long enough to tell.”
He smirked, thinking about the unsatisfied itch below his gun belt. “There’s nothin’ going on between us, believe me.”
“Maybe not yet,” the madam said, picking up the bottle of whiskey and standing to leave. “But I think she’s taken a shine to you.”
He frowned. Lots of women took a shine to him. It usually passed. Once they found out he was a drifter, they let go of him faster than a hot skillet.
The madam waltzed off, and Drew found himself gazing up at Cat’s closed door. Of course, the main reason he said he’d bid on her was because it was late and he needed a place to sleep for the night. At least, that’s what he told himself.
Still, he had to admit that the notion of spending another night with the lusty Italian beauty was definitely appealing.
“He did?” Catalina asked, drying the last dish in the kitchen. She tried not to let her expression betray the sudden leap of her heart.
“Twenty dollars,” Miss Hattie assured her, “same as before.”
She didn’t know whether to be relieved or apprehensive. She liked the handsome half-breed who made her laugh. But he couldn’t be paying her so much coin without an expectation of something more in return.
“Why?” she asked.
Miss Hattie’s laugh was like a bark. “Why? Because he’s sweet on you. That’s why.”
“What is this—sweet on you?”
“He’s got a hankerin’ for you.”
“Hankering?”
“A soft spot?”
Catalina shook her head. This American language was very difficult.
Miss Hattie sighed. “I think he likes you.”
Catalina scoffed at the idea. Yet part of her hoped it was true. If Drew Hawk liked her, maybe he would become her regular. Maybe she could buy that sewing machine sooner than she thought.
She put the dish away and hung up the drying cloth.
But even if he liked her, that didn’t mean she was going to throw aside her principles.
“I still will not make the sex with him,” she said.
“Suit yourself,” Miss Hattie replied, “though you could do worse than a man like Mr. Hawk. He’s a real gentleman.” She leaned closer and whispered. “If you’ve never had a man in that way before…”
“Of course not.”
“Then you’d like a gentleman like him to be your first. Trust me.”
Catalina didn’t really know what Miss Hattie meant. But she did know that she wasn’t going to have sex with a man, no matter how gentlemanly he was, unless they were joined in holy matrimony.
She grabbed the broom from the corner of the kitchen. Miss Hattie took it from her.
“Go on. I’ll finish up. He’s waitin’ in your room.”
“Now?” Catalina didn’t much care for a man making himself welcome in her bedroom, even if it was Drew. Who knew what he was rifling through?
“Go on, shoo.” Miss Hattie practically swept her out of the kitchen with the broom.
At the foot of the stairs, Catalina looked up at her room and gulped. Why she was nervous, she didn’t know. She’d already slept with him once, after all.
Maybe it was just that she’d put it behind her and didn’t expect to see him after this morning.
She let her eyes drift over to the bottle of whiskey sitting atop the bar. She wondered if she should take a stiff drink to brace herself.
“Per amor del cielo,” she muttered. For the love of heaven, she was being ridiculous.
Tonight was no different than last night. She would simply share the bed with him and say farewell in the morning. Besides, she was making ten more dollars.
She climbed the stairs, quickly untying her apron and tucking the stray curls of her hair back into their bun. She hesitated before her door and then straightened her shoulders and turned the doorknob.
Only at the last minute did she realize it was possible he’d taken off his clothes and would greet her in all his naked glory. But it was too late. She’d already opened the door.
He wasn’t naked. He was fully dressed. And he was pacing agitatedly across the floor.
She drew her brows together and closed the door behind her. “Something is wrong?”
He stopped pacing and hooked his thumbs into the top of his trousers.
“I want to make one thing clear, Cat,” he said. He seemed to struggle with the words, so he resumed pacing. “See, I’m not the marryin’ type. I’ve never been the marryin’ type. I’m more of a love ’em and leave ’em kind o’ man. It’s ’cause o’ my profession as a gambler, you see. I’ve got to keep movin’, like a rollin’ stone. I don’t have time for a…a wife and a bunch o’ kids.” He stopped and sighed. “So I don’t want you to get your hopes up, thinkin’ I’m gonna sweep you off your feet, ’cause that’s just not me. I’m a freewheelin’ tumbleweed. I can’t be tied down.” He stopped with his arms crossed. “I just think you should know that.”
At first, Catalina didn’t know whether to be flattered that he was even thinking about marrying her or insulted that he’d already decided against it. She settled on annoyed.
Hiding the sting of rejection, she said offhandedly, “Who said anything about marriage? I never said I wanted to be married.”
“Don’t you?”
“Maybe one day…in the future.”
“Right.” He chewed on his lip for a moment. “How far in the future?”
What did it matter? He obviously did not want to marry her.
“Who can say?” she told him. “Next week, next month, next year.”
“Next week?”
Chapter 13
Drew’s heart dropped. He didn’t want to get married. But he didn’t want her to get married either.
It was ludicrous, this sense of possessiveness he felt toward Cat. But he realized he didn’t want to share her. Not with the men slobbering over her in the salon. And not with some faceless hero who might show up as early as next week. Next week?
Catalina shrugged. “Life is uncertain.”
He knew that well enough. He’d built an entire career on a game based on uncertainty. Still, it didn’t feel right to gamble with your heart.
“Well,” he said, inexplicably disgruntled, “I’m glad that’s settled.”
It wasn’t settled at all, and he wasn’t glad. But it was his own fault. He was the one who’d brought it up.
She seemed cool and aloof when she said, “It is the same as before. We will not make the sex.”
“Well, o’ course not, not if you’re gonna be marryin’ some Tom, Dick, or Harry next week.”
“Who?”
“Never mind.” He started getting undressed.
She went to the dresser to take the pins out of her hair. Her gaze was fixed on the marble top of the dresser when she asked him, “Do you never intend to marry?”
He’d hung up his vest and was rolling down the sleeves of his shirt. Her words stopped him.
“Sure, some day,” he answered carefully. “Just not next week.”
She took out the last pin and looked at her reflection, fluffing her hair with her fingers. “I don’t think your bride will be happy to know you go to the bordello.”
He unbuttoned his shirt. “I don’t think your husband will be happy to know you work in one.”
She gasped. “I am not making the sex with anyone!”
“Neither am I,” he said, giving her a sharp look in the mirror.
Then he sighed. Why had he forked over another twenty dollars to a woman who didn’t want to sleep with him?
Native Hawk (California Legends Book 3) Page 9