“You’re not a good liar,” he said, winking at her. “You enjoyed it, too. Boy, did you enjoy it!”
She felt her face flush brick red. She had never wanted to murder anyone as much as she did Larado at that moment. “Let’s get one thing straight, cowboy. I truly thought I was marrying your upstanding, law-abiding brother.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “I don’t have a brother. What’s for supper?”
“At a time like this, you expect me to cook for you?”
He shrugged. “Well, we both gotta eat.”
“I got news for you, Larado,” she snarled, “I’m not the housewife type. And I wouldn’t cook for you anyway.”
“You’re good in bed, so I reckon that makes up for it.”
“Will you shut up about last night?” Her voice rose both in humiliation and anger.
He paused and looked at her hopefully. “Now, sweetie, just ’cause we have this little disagreement, that doesn’t mean we still couldn’t have fun every night in the bedroom.”
“Are you out of your mind? I’m not going to sleep with you—not tonight, not tomorrow night, not ever. I rue the day I let you charm me into your bed.”
“Well, don’t make a decision now. Give it some thought.” He got himself a dipper of water out of the bucket on the cabinet.
“I’ve given it some thought,” she said coldly. “We may have to share the house for appearances, but you aren’t sleeping in my bed again tonight.”
“May I remind you that it’s my bed?” He grinned at her and looked around. “Can’t we eat first and argue later?”
“I told you, I’m not cooking for you.”
“Fine, I’ll fix up something for both of us. See? I’m nicer than you are.” He pushed her to one side and began digging through the pantry.
“Men!” she sniffed. “They only think of two things, their bellies and their—well, you know.”
He grinned. “Yep.”
“I’m sure you can’t cook any better than I can.” She stood glaring at him, arms crossed.
“Maybe not, but I’m willing to try. How about some fried potatoes and eggs?”
“I will not eat your cooking.” She stuck her nose in the air, picked up the Rusty Spur Beacon, and went into the parlor.
She couldn’t keep her mind on the newspaper. She kept listening to him banging around in the kitchen. After a few minutes, pleasing aromas began to drift from there.
“Hey, Lark, I’ve got it ready, you want some?”
“No.” Her growling stomach was trying to make a liar out of her.
“Suit yourself.”
From where she sat, she could see him taking a plate and sitting down at the small table in the kitchen. His smacking told her he was enjoying his meal. Or wanting her to think so. She got up, still carrying the paper, and went into the kitchen for a dipperful of water. She tossed the paper on the table. “Must you wipe your mouth on your sleeve?”
“Why, does it annoy you?” He grinned up at her.
“You scoundrel, you know it does.”
“Good, then maybe I’ll keep doin’ it. Mmm.” He returned to eating, smacking and wiping at his plate with a piece of bread. “Really good.”
She paused in the middle of the kitchen and looked toward the stove. There were still fried potatoes, scrambled eggs, and bacon in the skillet. She licked her lips, but she didn’t touch the food. She wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. Behind her, she heard him pick up the newspaper.
She turned. He was squinting and staring at the page.
“What’s the matter?” she asked. “Can’t you read?”
He glanced up, looking embarrassed. “Uh, of course I can. I—I was just takin’ my time, that’s all.”
She was almost ashamed of herself. Maybe he couldn’t read. Lots of people couldn’t. She had a feeling there were a lot of things about Larado she didn’t know. He had duped her in the worst way, making her love him when it was only a farce. She wanted to scream at him, hit him, and throw things at him, but he didn’t look up. He kept eating and staring at the paper. He looked tired and defeated, and she felt almost ashamed of herself. “You—you want I should read that to you?”
He looked up at her, squinting. “I said I could read, you don’t need to bother.”
She began to clean up the kitchen. He didn’t say anything.
“I saw the picture in the bedroom,” she said finally.
“What about it?” He was immediately defensive. “I don’t want to talk about my mother.”
“She’s dead?”
He nodded. “Typhoid. I been on my own since I was a young kid.”
She wanted to ask him why he’d kept her eyeglasses, and what had happened to his father, but she had a feeling there was a deeper part of himself he wasn’t willing to discuss.
“I’m going to bed now,” she said.
His head came up from the paper.
“I said I was going to bed. Alone. I’ll throw out some blankets for you.” She walked across the room.
“Aw, Lark, sweetie—”
“Don’t ‘sweetie’ me, you cad.” She went into the bedroom, threw some blankets and a pillow out the door, then closed and locked it.
She heard him get up and come to the door. The knob turned. “It’s locked,” she said.
From the other side of the door, she heard swearing.
“I can see that.”
“Go away, you unchivalrous, low-down polecat.”
“Aw, Lark, honey, you don’t mean that. Is this the way it’s gonna be?”
“It certainly is. At least until I get enough money made from my shop to leave town.”
He rattled the doorknob again. “What will people think if you leave me?”
“Who cares? Maybe I’ll whisper the word around to the ladies that you were a terrible lover.”
“Well, now,” he drawled, “that would be lyin’, wouldn’t it? You loved every minute of last night.”
“I did not! I—I was pretending so you wouldn’t be disappointed, that’s all.”
“If you was pretendin’, you’re the best damned actress I ever met.”
“Now quit rattling my door. You’d better get used to sleeping on the sofa.”
“That old horsehair settee is hard as a mother-in-law’s heart. My back’ll hurt so bad, I’ll be cripplin’ around in the morning.”
“Good.” She flounced over to the bed and reached to blow out the lamp.
“I reckon one of the girls at the Cross-eyed Bull would be willing to let me in her bed.”
Lark paused in taking off her dress. “Don’t you dare!”
“I reckon I’d tell her you were so cold, I couldn’t stand to sleep with you. You’d like that to get around town?”
“And what would people think of the sheriff if he did that?” She continued to unbutton her dress and reached for a nightgown.
“The men would think I was a typical man—the ladies might gossip some.”
“Go away, Larado. You’re not getting in my bed. This is going to be a marriage in name only.”
“I’d hate to think as good as that was last night, we’d never share it again.”
Her curiosity got the better of her as she blew out the lamp and climbed into bed. “You—you thought it was good?”
“Best I ever had.” He sounded woebegone and sincere. For a moment, her heart almost melted, then she remembered what a rascal she was dealing with.
“Go sleep on the couch!” she shouted.
With a sigh, he stomped away from the door. She lay awake a long time and wondered if he did too. Her stomach was growling again. She got up, pressed her ear to the door, and listened. His snoring sounded like a hive of bees.
She tiptoed out and paused to look into the parlor. Larado was lying all tangled in a quilt on the old horsehair settee. He looked uncomfortable. Good. She hoped he got a backache like a broken-down bronc. She tiptoed into the kitchen and got a plate of cold leftovers. She was so hungry, s
he gobbled. Then she sneaked back to bed, making sure her door was locked.
The next morning, she rose early and went into the kitchen to make coffee. Larado still lay asleep on the settee. She made sure she banged the coffeepot. Why should he continue to sleep? She heard him groan aloud as he woke up. He came stumbling into the kitchen in his long handles.
“Good morning,” she said brightly. “How did you sleep?”
“Damn it, you know how I slept. I trust you enjoyed my bed?”
“Very much.”
He sat down at the table with a groan.
She smiled at him. “Maybe I’ll fix you some breakfast.”
He sighed and scratched himself. “Is it gonna be edible?”
She smiled. “Probably not.”
“In that case, I think I’ll catch a bite over at the café.” He got up and stumbled around, evidently looking for his boots and clothes, which were strewn about the parlor.
“Don’t say I didn’t offer. My, isn’t married life wonderful? If I’d known I was gonna end up with you, I’d have put poison in your coffee.”
“And, sweetie, if I’d known what I was gettin’ into, I’d have gladly drunk it.”
“Oh my! We both know where we stand then, don’t we?”
He stared at her glumly as he put on his clothes and reached for his Stetson. “Is this the way it’s gonna be from now on?”
She smiled back. “You can be sure of it.”
“You’re punishin’ me.” He limped over to the front door.
“Why would you think that? After everything you’ve done? Why, this is a marriage made in heaven.”
He went out the front door and slammed it so hard, the house rattled.
Good, she had made him furious. Funny, she didn’t feel much satisfaction. She only felt sad that he had betrayed her and had never really loved her.
Suddenly she didn’t want any breakfast. She had a cup of coffee, tidied up the house, then dressed and walked to her little shop. It was a busy morning. With all the new settlers coming in on the weekly train, she had plenty of new customers. She might be able to pay back her investors sooner than she thought so she could leave town.
Several days passed. No, dragged by was a better description. She was busy with all the new business at her shop, but at night, she and Larado did not speak, and she made sure she locked her door at night, making him sleep in the parlor. Not that he tried to come into her room again. Most of the time, he ate at the café. Evenings were long with two people sharing a house but not speaking. Once or twice, she almost reached out to him, then stopped. He had not only lied, he was a killer and a thief. That was just too much.
Friday morning, she sold two bonnets and was sewing white flowers on a new one when Mrs. Bottoms came in. She was so glad to see a friendly face. “Hello, Mrs. Bottoms, I’ve missed you and little Jimmy.”
“Heavens, I reckon I figured with a new husband, you wouldn’t have much time for old friends for a while.”
“Uh, yes.” She didn’t look up, she kept working on the hat.
“Folks is gossipin’ about the sheriff eatin’ at the café or the hotel dining room all the time.”
“Folks ought to mind their own business.” In spite of everything she could do, tears began to fill Lark’s eyes.
“Heavens, child, what did I say wrong?”
“N—Nothing. It’s just—it’s just not going as well as I thought.”
“Oh?”
“He—he—” She didn’t dare tell this sweet lady the whole truth.
The old lady put her arm around Lark’s shaking shoulders. “Tell me about it. Maybe I can help.”
“It’s just awful, not like I thought it would be.”
“Oh, you can’t cook, and that’s the reason he ain’t eatin’ at home?”
Lark only wept.
“Well, honey, that can be taught.”
“I was always a tomboy. I ride and rope and shoot much better than I bake biscuits.”
“Then you just need a little help. Come by the hotel and I’ll teach you.”
Lark didn’t dare tell her the whole story. “I’ll—I’ll try.”
“Men are like dogs,” Mrs. Bottoms said. “Give them something to eat and a comfortable place to sleep, and they’ll stay happy and won’t stray.”
Lark pictured the hard settee. “I don’t think he’s too happy.”
“Oh, of course he is. Now you just come over to the hotel sometime and I’ll teach you a little about runnin’ a home.”
“Okay,” Lark gulped. Oh, if it were only that easy.
“By the way,” the lady said, “did you hear the news?”
Lark shook her head and wiped her eyes. “I reckon not.”
“Well, that new banker and his wife are finally arriving tomorrow on the noon train. They got the new building ready, except the upstairs apartment ain’t quite done.”
“It’s about time,” Lark said. “It’s been inconvenient not to have a real bank.”
“The mayor’s hopin’ everyone will turn out to meet the train, show ’em some of that good Rusty Spur civic pride. Big ceremony.”
“That’s good.” Lark nodded.
“By the way, I saw the sheriff limping this morning going down the sidewalk. He fall or something?”
“Uh, maybe so.” Lark avoided her eyes. “I think it was the settee.”
“He fell over the settee?”
“You might say that.”
“Well, heavens. I thought maybe it might have got a little strenuous in the bedroom, you know.” She winked at Lark.
Lark felt the blood rush to her face. “No, I swear, it’s the settee.”
“Reckon I’d better run. Got to get my best room fixed up. I reckon the new banker and his wife will be staying at the hotel for a few days ’til that apartment over the bank’s finished. Oh, the mayor has requested that you pen Magnolia up. Some think it wouldn’t do to have a burro roaming through the crowd—especially one in a big pink flowered hat.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Business slowed the rest of the afternoon after Mrs. Bottoms left. Lark fed Magnolia and started home. She was both dreading and looking forward to seeing Larado. He was a heartbreaker and a rascal, but oh, he was charming. In the meantime, how did she get into this mess, and now how would she get out?
When she walked into the house, there was only silence.
“Larado? Are you here?”
“I’m in the kitchen.”
She started into the kitchen. “If you think I’m going to cook—oh, my God.”
She stopped, dumbfounded. Larado was just getting up from a washtub full of water by the stove. He was naked and wet as he turned and grinned at her. She had forgotten the look of that big, virile body with its slim hips and wide shoulders. Her gaze went lower, and then she realized she was staring and backed away, covering her eyes. “Have you no modesty?”
“Well, sweetie, you aren’t seein’ nothin’ you haven’t seen before. Toss me a towel, will you?”
It was difficult to locate the towel on the back of a kitchen chair when her eyes were closed. “You might have warned me.” She felt indignant. She opened one eye.
He had the towel wrapped around his lean waist. “Oh, come now, let’s not play games. You were tickled to get a peek.”
“I was not!”
“Liar, of course you were.” He gave that crooked, easy grin. He turned toward the stove. “I started some supper.”
“Aren’t you going to put some clothes on?”
He paused with a pan in his hands. “I’m wearin’ a towel.”
“Yes, but it doesn’t look very secure. Suppose—?”
“You can only hope,” he laughed.
“You are an unmitigated bastard,” she snarled.
“I don’t know the meanin’ of the one word, but yes, I am a bastard.” He wasn’t smiling now. “My old man ran off and left without marryin’ my mother.”
“I—I’m sorry. I shouldn’
t have said that.”
He shrugged without looking at her. “It’s okay. I’ve had to deal with it my whole life.”
He sounded so sad that she forgot about their quarrel. “I really am sorry. I reckon I know now why you kept her spectacles.”
“Her spectacles?”
“Her eyeglasses.”
For a minute, he tensed. She could see it in his wide shoulders. “Don’t touch those, and don’t mention them to anyone,” he snapped.
“Why? Lots of older ladies wear them—”
“You heard me.”
She had not realized that the tough cowboy could be so sentimental. Having lost her own parents, she was suddenly sympathetic. “Here.” Her voice softened. “I’ll take over the cooking and you go get some clothes on.” She shouldered him away from the stove and took the pan.
“Thanks, Lark.” His voice softened to a whisper. “I’ll admit I’ve been a rascal, but I’ve been on my own for a very long time. Maybe if there’d been a good woman in my life the last few years, I wouldn’t be such a bum.”
“It’s okay, Larado. I didn’t mean to hurt you. My parents are both dead too, so I know how you feel.”
He paused and looked down at her. She was more than a little aware of his virile naked body and the thin towel between them, the water still shining on his wet body. If he took her in his muscular arms, she thought, she wasn’t sure she could resist him.
“I’m sorry I’ve made such a mess of things,” he said. “I reckon there’s nothin’ I could say now that would make you trust me.”
“No.” Just the way he was looking at her made her want to turn her face up to his and let him kiss her.
“In that case, I’d better shut up. Just to put you at your ease, I’ll go put some clothes on.”
Let’s go into the bedroom and you make passionate love to me like you did that one night. She thought it, but of course she didn’t say it. “I—I’ll finish cooking supper.”
He grinned at her. “I thought you said you can’t cook?”
“Honestly, I can handle a gun, a horse, and a rope, but I’m not too good around a stove. I’ll do the best I can.”
“That’s all anyone can ask, Lark.” His voice was gentle. He gave her one last grin and disappeared into the bedroom.
Georgina Gentry - To Tease a Texan Page 18