by P. Creeden
Chapter Fifteen
Caleb
When Caleb returned with Opal to the hotel room, he felt exhaustion through his shoulders and neck. There was nothing he wanted more than to get a good night’s sleep. He stifled a yawn while he rubbed the back of his neck.
“Why don’t you sleep in the bed tonight?” Opal asked, stopping his yawn mid-way and making him choke down a gasp.
His heart picked up speed, and he swallowed down the lump that had formed in his throat. “Pardon?”
She blinked up at him, her hazel-eyed gaze barely brushing past him, as she said, “I’m not unused to sleeping on the floor, myself. We spent two days on the train, sleeping in a sitting position when we were able. Now that we’ve gotten here, you’ve already slept on the floor instead of the bed, making me feel as though I’m not doing my fair share.”
He sighed. “There is no way I’m making a lady sleep on the floor.”
Her gaze suddenly shot to his, those hazel eyes narrowing. “I’m not a lady. I’m your partner in the agency. If I’d been a man, would you have given me the bed, or would we have at least found a way to split the time in the bed so that each of us also spent time on the floor. I want to be treated as your equal partner, not just a lady who needs pampering.”
The sour look in her face as she pursed her lips and pouted pulled his lips into a half-smile even though he fought to keep a straight face. “I understand you are my equal partner, but there are some things that a gentleman just cannot abide by.”
“Well, there are somethings I cannot abide, either.” Her hands suddenly drew into fists and found their way to her hips. She was adorable, and every move she made in this argument made his heart beat according to the rhythm she orchestrated. Every part of his being wanted to pull her into his arms and wrap around her and kiss her deeply. He only barely held back.
“Then, we are at an impasse.”
“No, we’re not,” she said, shaking her head and grabbing a pillow and the blanket, leaving the other pillow and the bed sheet on the top of the mattress. “I’m sleeping over on this side of the bed and on the floor tonight, so you may as well take the bed otherwise it will go to waste as we both spend the night on the floor.”
And with that, she collapsed onto the floor, fully dressed and shoes on, tucking the pillow under her head and pulling the blanket up to her chin. She squeezed her eyes shut tight.
“Be reasonable, Opal, and take the bed.”
No answer.
As he eyed the crisp white sheet on the bed that he’d only ever seen at the best of hotels, he had to admit he was sorely tempted to just collapse on the bed and take her offer. He pulled his gaze away from his temptation and looked back down at the woman who’d taken space on the floor. He scoffed. “So stubborn.”
She still remained silent.
He sat upon the bed and began pulling his boots off. “You did great work today. You are taking to working as an agent like a duck to water. I’m happy to be working with an extraordinary person, like you. It would have broken my heart to see you come on this case with one of the other men. I’m glad that Marianne and Archie chose us to be together.”
As he stood and removed his jacket, he eyed the lump on the floor. Once he hung it on the coat rack, he pulled his suspenders from over his shoulders and continued, “This case has been tough so far. We’re having to look at it from all angles, even when we were given theories by the owner before we even started. He’s the one who determined the threat was to the theater itself. It’s only through good detective work that you and I were able to narrow down the culprit’s true target. And if you hadn’t been there to notice the strange things about the flowers, I don’t know that I would have noticed the poison ivy, even. It was through little observances like that where we’re able to keep our charges safe. So, good job. You’re doing a great job at being a Pinkerton, and Archie will absolutely get a glowing review from me, no matter what, when we return to Denver.”
Still no response, not even a sniff.
He grabbed hold of the pillow and sheet from the bed and peered down at her once more. A yawn built up in his chest and found a way through him though he fought to keep it down. “So, you don’t need to do anything to get on my good side. You’re already there. I wish you’d go ahead and give in and take the bed.”
She didn’t so much as twitch as she continued to lay on the floor beside the bed. He huffed, “Fine, then.” And then lay on the other side of the bed, on the floor, somehow feeling less tension through his shoulders and back than he’d had before.
Opal
For a long time, Opal tried to go to sleep, but it just wouldn’t come. Her heart still beat a rhythm in her ears. It was amazing—everything he’d said. Not responding to his compliments with at least a thank you had been hard. But if she was going to win the battle of wills about who would sleep in the bed, she knew she couldn’t even give him a single word. She cracked an eye open, and through the moonlight coming in through the window, she spied Caleb’s prone form on the floor from under the bed. She frowned in disappointment. Maybe she’d met her match when it came to stubbornness.
Maybe she’d met her match in every respect.
There was nothing about Caleb that wasn’t perfect, from the way the tips of his hair curled up from under his hat to his soft eyes whenever they spoke to each other. His facial expression when he looked at her seemed different from the way he looked at everyone else. He lost an edge to his businesslike demeanor when talking to her. It was one of the many things about him that made her heart flutter and her stomach flip. The way he listened to her and respected her opinion. The way he had complimented her just now, right when she’d needed it. How was she ever going to let him go and get that annulment when they returned to Denver?
She let out a slow breath, holding in the sigh that she was afraid would alert Caleb that she was still awake. Why couldn’t he have just taken the bed the way she’d wanted him to? She was happy on the floor, and to prove it, she just needed to go to sleep. After turning the other way so she could stop seeing her failure to get what she wanted across from under the bed, she squeezed her eyes shut and relaxed each part of her body. In her stubbornness, she’d neglected to remove her shoes. No matter. She was stuck with them now and would make do. All her life, she’d been the kind who could be asleep in mere seconds if she just closed her eyes in a quiet room, but tonight, it took some doing just to get into a shallow sleep. Dreams plagued her. She kept feeling like the culprit was just out of her reach. Failure taunted her in her sleep. Then warm arms wrapped around her and comforted her, enveloping her in citrus and coffee. Caleb. She snuggled into him and found solace there. He grounded her. She believed in him. There was no way that she would fail him. She couldn’t accept failure as long as he believed in her. Warmth and comfort surrounded her and for the first time that night she finally slipped into a restful sleep.
Until she woke that morning and found herself in the bed. She bolted upright as morning sun slanted through the window. Fully dressed and still in her boots, she’d somehow managed to get back into the bed with both the pillow and the blanket. She blinked in confusion and then peered down at the floor where Caleb still slept. She narrowed her eyes at him. Did he put her in the bed sometime in the middle of the night? She vaguely remembered the dream and the arms wrapped around her body. It was him. He’d put her in the bed—she was certain of it. Huffing her disappointment, she slipped from the blankets, her boots clicking against the hardwood floor on the other side. He truly was just as stubborn as she. Even as the feelings of disappointment and a touch of anger swirled within her, they were tamped down by a feeling of appreciation and happiness... and maybe something more. She shook her head and stood, her hands crossing over her chest as she held herself, as if she could hold those feelings in and keep them from surfacing. As if she could stop the name of that feeling from touching her soul. But she couldn’t stop it. None of it. It was too late. She was in love with Caleb Wade.
/>
Chapter Sixteen
Opal
The next day, Opal stood and watched Mrs. Mauney explain how to use the hot iron presses to take the wrinkles out of the dresses on the rack beside her. “I don’t understand why they needed to have a full-dress rehearsal the very night before the first show. Would it hurt them to skip a night? It’s bad enough that we have to make each dress clean and crisp before each showing but adding that special rehearsal was the same as adding another full showing.”
Opal nodded as she listened to the older, rotund woman prattle on, doing the job of ironing herself instead of showing Opal how exactly to do it the way she was supposed to. But Opal was an astute student. She could learn most things by watching.
Then Mrs. Mauney replaced the iron on the stove and handed her the padded cloth she’d used to hold the handle with. “Do you think you understand what’s needed now, dear? All fourteen of these dresses need to be pressed. I’ve finished the first, you may do the rest, alternating irons to be sure the one you are using is hot enough to press out the wrinkles.”
“Yes, ma’am. I believe I’ve got it.” Opal pulled the next dress from the rack and set it on the hardwood table. Then she took the padded cloth and removed the other iron from the stove and began pressing it through the fabric. Like magic, the wrinkles were straightened.
“Excellent. I’ll be back in an hour to check on your progress. All of these dresses need to be ready by two p.m.” She peered at her pocket watch. “That gives you a little less than two hours to get it finished. I hope you’re a fast worker as well as a quick study,” Mrs. Mauney said with a wink and then paced away to mend one of the men’s shirts that had ripped during the performance the afternoon before.
Opal swallowed and continued her work, swiping the sweat from her brow when she was on her third dress. “Only ten more to go,” she said in as cherry a voice as she could muster.
A few dresses later, Miss Prescott walked into the dressing area with Miss Smith, both of them with wide smiles on their faces. They both stopped in front of the ironing board and stared at Opal for a moment. She peered up at them, iron in hand. Miss Smith tilted her head. “Aren’t you one of the patrons? What are you doing here... doing that?”
Opal wiped the sweat from her chin, setting the iron back on the stove temporarily while she offered them a wide grin and said, “My husband and I want this show to go on without a hitch. And if you want to make sure something goes right, it’s better to immerse yourself in it and help. It may seem lowly to be pressing wrinkles from dresses, but I see it as a job for the greater good.”
Even though the two ladies’ faces were twisted with confusion, they shrugged and went on to their makeup tables. Mrs. Mauney returned and eyed the dresses that Opal had completed and set on the rack. Opal didn’t want to waste any time on watching the inspection, but even as she ironed her eighth dress, she couldn’t help but let her gaze keep slipping back to where Mrs. Mauney stood. Finally, the older woman turned around. “Are you sure you can’t work here more permanently? You’ve done an excellent job so far. If you can pick up the pace just a little bit and still keep out the wrinkles, I’d say your work is nearly perfect.”
Opal couldn’t help but beam. “Thank you, ma’am.”
The older woman patted her on the back and said, “Keep up the good work. I’ll be back in a bit to help you with what’s next.”
Swiping the sweat from her chin with the back of her hand, Opal nodded and got back to work. But even as she continued with the iron, she kept an eye on her surroundings. The actors and actresses arrived in pairs or groups, each of them adding to the excitement and noise level backstage. She spotted Caleb with his sleeves rolled up, and his jacket removed. She blinked at him. How did he manage to look so different to her in that moment? He looked strong and tough. It set her heart racing again. She swallowed and pulled her gaze away, concentrating on her ironing for all of three seconds before the magnetic pull of his muscular arms drew in her gaze once more. He lifted a heavy piece of scenery backdrop, and the veins popped out on his forearms. She bit her lip and looked down, her toes curling again as a thrill of excitement went through her. She was no stranger to hard work and had seen her cousins work hard like that as well. Why was it so different to see Caleb in this light?
She shook her head and continued with the work in front of her, but then the sound of his laughter pulled her gaze to him again. Mr. McFly rubbed the top of Caleb’s head as though he were a schoolboy. The jovial playfulness between the backstage hands seemed to heighten with Caleb’s presence. Good. He’d seemed to fit right in.
A man came rushing into the women’s dressing area. “Delivery for Miss Prescott,” his deep, gruff voice said.
A frown tugged at Opal’s lip. The voice seemed familiar. She leaned a bit to the side in order to see the man more clearly past her rack of dresses. His brushed tweed flat cap rang a bell in her, and it was one of alarm. Gripping the iron tightly in her hand, she pushed passed the rack of dresses and stepped into the main dressing area. The man shot a glance toward Miss Smith and swallowed before smiling down upon Miss Prescott who was taking a bouquet of flowers from the man’s hands. White lilies and shiny green leaves.
Opal rushed forward and smacked the flowers out of her arms. “Stop right there! Don’t take those—they have poison ivy in them.”
The man’s wide eyes rounded on hers before narrowing. Then he pushed Opal aside and attacked Miss Prescott. A scream rent the air, and it took Opal a moment to realize that it had come from her own throat. She barely caught herself against the coat rack before launching herself forward, brandishing the iron she still held in her hand. The villain gripped Miss Prescott’s arm, his teeth baring, and withdrew a knife with his other hand. Opal needed to do something. She jumped forward and stuck the hot iron on the man’s arm closest to her, which held the actress. It didn’t take long for the heat of the iron to make it past the thin cotton button-up he wore and sizzle the skin beneath. He cried out and let the actress go, pulling to the side, away from the hot metal in Opal’s hand.
Then the man sneered and swiped toward Opal with his knife. She pulled back and blocked his arm with the iron she held, but not before she felt the sting on the back of her hand as the blade sliced through. Then the man disappeared as Caleb tackled him from the side to the ground. The knife skittered across the floor, both Miss Smith and Miss Prescott jumping away from it as though it were a live snake, their arms wrapped around each other as they watched Caleb and the culprit wrestle each other on the floor. Opal set the iron she had on the floor and used the quilted pad to hold the blood flow from the cut on her hand. Then she rushed over and kicked the knife out of the way just as the villain reached for it again. Once it was out of their reach, she leaned down and picked it up with her injured hand. Finally, other men from the scenery crew arrived and helped Caleb get the man under control. The man sneered and remained tense but had stopped all fighting. Caleb growled. “You’re under arrest.”
“On who’s authority,” the man yelled.
Caleb tapped him in the back of the head before standing. “I neglected to introduce us. Caleb Wade, Pinkerton agent, and I believe you met my wife, Opal, also an agent with the Pinkertons.”
Several people gasped while others clapped their hands and cheered. Heat rose to Opal’s cheeks, and she wasn’t sure which she liked hearing better from Caleb’s lips, that she was his wife or a Pinkerton agent. One of the crewmen brought over a length of rope and trussed the man up. The villain yelled, “Unhand me. I didn’t do anything.”
Caleb’s hands were suddenly on hers, his brow wrinkled and his eyes full of worry. “Were you hurt? Let me see it.”
Slowly she pulled back the pad which had soaked up a great deal of her blood. The cut on the back of her hand began to bleed profusely once more. It was nearly three inches long, but not terribly deep. “It’s not too bad.”
Caleb hissed and began to spin around. “I’ll kill him.”
&n
bsp; “Wait!” She leapt forward and wrapped her arms around his waist, holding his body tight to hers. He tensed for a moment and then relaxed in her arms. She breathed in his heady scent. “It’s only a little scratch. And he’s not worth it.”
He turned around, grabbing hold of her hands on his waist and keeping them from falling to her sides. That soft, sad look remained in his eyes as he released one of her hands and cupped her cheek with it. She couldn’t help but lean into his rough but warm touch. Then he leaned in and kissed her. It was just a soft brush of his lips on hers, tentative and gentle. He pulled back and searched her eyes as though asking for permission, but the heat of passion in his gaze made her groan for more. A smile tugged at his lips as he came in and kissed her deeply. Her hands fisted in his cotton, button-up shirt as his lips teased hers from several different angles, his other arm released her wrist and wrapped around her back, pulling him closer into him and for a moment, nothing in the world mattered but the two of them feeding and devouring the passion between them as though it was the very lifeline that kept them both on this earth.
Then applause began.
Caleb pulled his face back, a blush tinging his cheeks with red. Heat rose to her own cheeks as she released her tight hold on his shirt and peered around the room at the smiling actors and crewmen who were clapping and wolf-whistling at their show of affection. Mr. McFly just shook his head, still clapping his hands together slowly. “It’s a joy to see a married couple so deeply in love with each other. To many more years of wedded bliss—Cheers!”