Becoming Miss Becky

by Shannon Stacey

  After assuring himself the horse wasn’t being neglected, he made his way to the saloon, trying not to dwell on how very, very slow the hands on the church clock were moving today. At this rate, by the time he got to lay his hands on Rebecca he was going to blow like a virgin fondling his first breast.

  As usual for the hour, there were a few lost souls in the saloon, but not many. He took his usual stool and waited for the barkeep to pour his whiskey.

  Before he’d even tasted it, a peptic-looking Brent Barnes pulled up the stool beside him. Lucy’s skinny, henpecked husband swallowed hard, making his Adam’s apple bob.

  “Afternoon, Sheriff.”

  “Afternoon, Brent.”

  The barkeep approached, but Brent shook his head mournfully. “The missus doesn’t care for imbibing.”

  Adam snorted. “Then she shouldn’t have had you chase me into the saloon.”

  “She didn’t…oh dadgummit. She’s been after me for days to talk to you and when she saw you come in here, she told me now was my chance.”

  “And you’re supposed to tell me if I don’t run Rebecca Hamilton out of town, you’ll see the council votes to fire me.”

  “Yes.”

  “And I’ll ask you if you remember what Gardiner was like before I came—when decent women couldn’t walk down the street and men like you were considered target practice. And you’ll say…”

  “Yes.”

  “If you don’t stand up to that woman, Brent, you’ll be awaiting her permission to meet your Maker at the end of your days.”

  Brent shrugged and stared longingly at Adam’s glass. “I did stand up to her once, back when Beth Ann ran off and Lucy wanted you to go after her.”

  “I remember. It was a fine moment.”

  “I regretted it. That woman harangued me for days, even through the water closet door while I was urinating.”

  “Taking a piss, Brent.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “Men don’t urinate, they take a piss. Hell, I bet she makes you sit down while you do it.”

  Brent’s neck turned red and after a minute he slammed a fist down on the bar. “I will take that drink! And more drinks after that, until I’ve had so many I’ve gotta take a piss. Standing up, like God intended!”

  Adam figured it’d be rude to abandon a man so desperately trying to untangle his balls from his wife’s apron strings, so he raised his empty glass for another.

  “You ain’t really gonna run Miss Becky out of town, right?” Brent asked later, in a slightly slurred manner. And after only his third drink, too.

  Adam held his liquor a little better, so he wasn’t anywhere near drunk enough not to be irked by the name, but it wasn’t Brent’s fault the woman had everybody calling her that. “Course not.”

  “Good. She’s a real firecracker, that one.”

  Adam figured he couldn’t blame a man married to Lucy Barnes for lusting after Rebecca, so he didn’t get too riled up. But unfortunately a cowboy who’d come in and taken a seat on Adam’s other side chose to join in the conversation.

  “Soon as I draw my first pay, I’m headin’ straight to the Chicken Coop to get me some of that.”

  Adam turned and looked the man up and down. “I know you?”

  “I just signed on at the Halstead place. He sent me in to pick up his horse and told me to check out the town while I was here. So far that woman you’re talking about—Miss Becky—she’s the only thing worth looking at twice.”

  “As the law around here, let me give you a bit of friendly advice. Though she may look it, she just runs the place. She ain’t for sale.”

  The cowboy laughed. “Nobody gave her jewelry like what she wears for no good reason. Or maybe she ain’t yet, but once she gets a feel of my pecker between her—”

  Adam’s fist connected with the side of the cowboy’s jaw, snapping his head back so hard his hat flew off. The man’s knees buckled, but he managed to catch his arm on the bar and he didn’t go down.

  Because Adam wasn’t accustomed to having somebody he’d hit not fall, the kid managed to land a swing on him. Although it was an ill-aimed strike, Adam’s lip split and he tasted blood.

  “What in Hades is that for?” the cowboy said. “She’s just a whore.”

  This time the cowboy did hit the floor with a thump, but he came up fast, mad and flailing for his gun. He found Adam’s first, pointed at his head before his hand found leather.

  “Easy, mister. I mean Sheriff.” He’d given up on his gun and was rubbing his jaw. “I didn’t come here looking for trouble.”

  “You get Halstead’s horse and head on back to the ranch, boy. And next time you come into Gardiner, you keep a civil tongue in your head with regard to Miss Hamilton.”

  “Yes, sir.” He lit out like his pants were on fire.

  Adam knocked back the rest of his drink and looked over at Brent Barnes, who was looking back at him with wide eyes while his throat worked convulsively.

  “So that’s how it is,” he said finally.

  Adam sighed and rolled his empty glass between his hands. “If you tell your wife, I’ll shoot you. Several times.”

  “After she smells my breath, she’s going to light into me so hard I’ll have forgotten all about this by the time I get a chance to talk.”

  Adam considered another drink, but he knew the liquor would sting his lip like the dickens.

  “I’m going to head out, Brent, and make sure that kid does as I said.” He rose and slapped the guy between the shoulder blades, then chuckled when he winced. “You tell Lucy you tried your best.”

  “My best ain’t been good enough for that woman in years.” He hiccupped. “But by God, from now on I’ll piss like a man.”

  Adam left Brent there with his liquor and big dreams, wondering how the hell he was going to wile away an entire afternoon and evening without killing anybody just to ease the tension.

  Becky grimaced at her reflection in the mirror, cursing Adam Caldwell’s name. While not as ugly as the gray dress, the blue was merely serviceable and felt like a flour sack after the fine fabrics she’d quickly grown accustomed to.

  But, she thought critically, she did look like the pale little mouse he seemed to have ideas about. And that was okay, because she’d had some ideas of her own, and they were about to be realized.

  Fortunately the chickens were all upstairs, even Sadie as she spent many evenings in her room trying to knit a bonnet for her baby. At least that’s what Sadie said it was, anyway. Becky was able to sneak out the back door and behind the buildings until she came to the staircase leading to the rooms up over the sheriff’s office.

  She paused, looking up at the door while trying to summon enough courage to make it up the steps. What if she was disappointed? What if he was disappointed?

  The chickens had warned her that, though sex was pleasurable for a woman when the man knew what he was doing, it might not be the first time out. They’d gone on for almost an hour about what she might expect and it hadn’t sounded all that pleasurable to her after all. She’d almost decided she’d hold on to her virginity for a while longer—maybe even forever—but Fiona pointed out that the Widow Donnelly going so far as to ask a prostitute about his whereabouts spoke pretty strongly to the sheriff being a man who knew what he was doing.

  As Becky stood there, the door swung open and Adam stood silhouetted by the lamp burning behind him—a big, dark shadow waiting for her. Lifting the respectable, ankle-concealing skirt so she didn’t trip and break her neck before she got what she was here for, Becky made her way up the stairs.

  When she got to the top, he stepped back into the room so she could enter and then closed the door behind her.

  “You listen well, little mouse,” he said, his dark eyes burning like embers as he looked her up and down. He reached out with one finger and flicked the ruby at her earlobe. “Almost.”

  “The jewelry was my mother’s,” she said. “And her mother’s before her. I brought it with me from
Massachusetts. Besides, you said no feathers. You didn’t say anything about jewelry.”

  “True.” He ran his finger from the earring down the side of the neck until it came to the stiff collar. He hooked the finger inside of it and pulled her closer. “You’re sure about this?”

  Standing so close to him, feeling his skin against even such a small patch of hers, was enough to leave her breathless. Until she saw his lip. “Did somebody hit you?”

  “Yup.”

  “Did you shoot him?”

  “No. Didn’t reckon that would be fair, seeing as how I hit him first.”

  “Did he deserve it?”

  Adam shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. He mistook you for a whore and I took exception.”

  Becky ran her fingertip over his lip, careful to avoid the small gash. ‘‘You can’t pick a fight with every man who makes a remark about me.”

  “I can if the remark is disrespectful,” he said, and his fierce scowl let her know he meant it.

  Becky knew they were only a few words away from yet another discussion during which he would demand she go back to being boring and plain, forcing her to tell him no again. And she had no doubt, if that happened, the night would not be going as she’d planned.

  “Does it hurt too much to allow for kissing?” she asked to get them back on track.

  “I reckon we could try it and see.”

  Adam lowered his mouth to hers and this time, knowing what to expect, Becky met him halfway. She closed her eyes and breathed in the spicy scent of him as his lips moved over hers, both gentle and demanding at the same time.

  When the tip of her tongue flicked over the tangy cut in his lip, she shuddered. This man was so fierce and he’d no doubt been swift and harsh in defense of her honor. A part of her wished she’d seen it, while another knew it was one reason this night was probably as far as their relationship would go.

  The kiss was long and thorough, letting Becky know in no uncertain terms the slight injury to his mouth wouldn’t be standing in his way.

  “You very damn sure you want to do this?” he asked, his voice a little huskier than usual.

  “I’m very damn sure. Should…should I take my dress off now?”

  Adam frowned and took a step away from her. “You sound like a nervous virgin.”

  “I am a nervous virgin.” When he crossed his arms over his chest, she did the same. It wasn’t as though that fact came as a surprise to the man. He knew exactly what he was getting into.

  “You don’t look like one as a rule.”

  Pride stiffened Becky’s spine and lifted her chin. “If you’ve changed your mind, Sheriff, just spit it out. I thought you understood the circumstances and believed you wanted me.”

  “I do want you.” And the look he gave her left no doubt about that.

  “Then what is the problem?”

  “There isn’t one. I just…hellfire. I’m feeling a little pressure here, woman.”

  “Haven’t you done this before?”

  “Many times, but you haven’t. What if you don’t like my way of goin’ about this? Hell, I could put you off sex forever.”

  “Adam, just the way you look at me makes me feel all hot and shivery, like I have a fever and your touch is the medicine I need.”

  “See, here’s the thing. If you hate yourself in the morning, you’ll hate me, too. And I don’t want you to hate me. I’m just not sure you’ve thought this all the way through.”

  “By the time you’re done talking about this, I’m going to be too old to enjoy it anyway.”

  She was trembling on the inside, but Becky knew if she gave him an inch, he’d run for a mile. Brazen persistence had gotten her this far, and she was determined to see it through.

  But when he tossed his hat on the bed and began unbuckling his gunbelt, her knees started shaking. Heat prickled across her flesh, yet she shivered as though chilled, just as she’d described to him. Adam tossed the belt after the hat.

  “Come take your medicine, sweetheart.”

  Chapter Eight

  To Adam’s way of thinking, he’d given her plenty of opportunity to change her mind. He’d even been willing to allow her to save face by being the one to end the evening if she’d looked uncertain.

  But with Rebecca Hamilton looking at him like he was a piece of penny candy she wanted to lick all over, a herd of stampeding, locoweed-addled cattle couldn’t have dragged him away.

  When her hands went to the top button of her bodice, Adam shook his head. “I’ll do that myself. First I’m going to take your hair down, one pin at a time.”

  She dropped her hands to her side. “Why did you make me put it all up, just to take it all down again? It was a waste of time.”

  “Are you in a hurry, sweetheart?”

  “I’m…anxious to…” She broke off and he watched her struggle to find the right words. “I want to know what it feels like.”

  “It’s going to feel good.” He pulled her close, sliding his hands up her back. “You have a beautiful neck, little mouse, and I want to taste that spot right there on the side, where I can feel your heartbeat, without getting your hair in my mouth.”

  Then he showed her exactly where he meant, running his lips against the soft flesh, pausing to feel the hummingbird’s wings of her heartbeat just below the surface. She sighed and he reached into her hair, pulling free one small pin.

  “The night after you got here,” he said in a low voice against her ear, “I tossed and turned all damn night, imagining doing this. I imagined watching it all come undone, tumbling down over my hands. I could practically feel it.”

  “You thought about me that very first night? When I was plain and lost and exhausted?”

  “I’ve thought about you every night. And most of every day, too. It’s hell on a man wanting a woman that bad.”

  “That explains the surliness.”

  “No, that’s just my nature. It explains why I can’t hardly sit straight in the saddle no more, though.”

  “It makes me feel special,” she said with a shy smile, “to know you think about me in that way.”

  “All the time. And you are special, little mouse. There ain’t another woman I’d go through this for.”

  She stopped smiling and her forehead wrinkled. “Are you finding this that unpleasant?”

  “No, I…dammit. See, if you were a whore or an experienced widow, I’d just toss your skirts up and be done with it, no different than scratchin’ an itch. But with you, it’s different.”

  “Because I’m a virgin?”

  Adam looked down into her dark eyes and shook his head. “No. I just feel different about you.”

  Before she could ask what he meant by that—and hell if he even knew—Adam lowered his mouth to hers. He kissed her long and hard, until he figured her need to ask questions had passed, then he drew back and cradled her face in his hands.

  Her skin was so fine, so pale and smooth under his rough, work-hardened hands, he was almost afraid to touch her.

  And yet he couldn’t have stopped himself. “I want this to feel good for you.”

  “The chickens all agreed I most likely won’t feel any pleasure the first time and it’s mostly about getting the deflowering over with.”

  That was a damn unattractive way to refer to lovemaking, in his opinion. “Damnation, is that all you women ever talk about?”

  “Bedroom intimacies are a subject they do tend to go on about.”

  He guessed that made sense, considering how they earned their pay, but the idea of a bunch of women talking about his methods over breakfast certainly gave him pause.

  Rebecca grinned, flashing her dimples. “Don’t worry, I have a more finely honed sense of discretion. I don’t want to share you with them, even in conversation.”

  “Speaking of conversation, I reckon I’ve had enough of it for now.” He kissed her again to ensure the talking was over.

  When she reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body a
gainst his, he groaned and went back to letting down her hair.

  One by one he pulled the pins, dropping them on the floor, until her hair fell like a gold cloud over his hands. It was as soft as he’d imagined, even softer than the freshly shorn wool of a prized lamb. He lifted a handful and ran it down his face, breathing in the faint, flowery scent of it.

  Then he lowered his hands to her collar, only to find out his fingers didn’t have much of a way with tiny, feminine buttons. When her hands pushed his out of the way so she could do it herself, he breathed a sigh of relief and saw to his own clothing.

  A few minutes later they were both naked and Adam felt as though the air had been sucked out of his chest. That had to be what was making it ache. He picked her up, her body as flushed and hot as his own, and carried her to the bed. When he set her down and stretched his body out over hers, she ran her hands over his shoulders.

  “My goodness,” she whispered. “You are one very handsomely built man, Sheriff Caldwell.”

  And then she brushed one fingertip across his bottom lip. That one touch was almost his undoing.

  “You are so…sweet.” He groaned and nipped the end of her finger. “I wish I had pretty words for this, little mouse.”

  “They’d just fly out of my head anyway. I can barely think straight when you touch me.”

  “That’s fine, because I like touching you a sight more than I like talking.”

  And touch her he did, until her skin glowed with sweat, her back arched off the bed and her fingernails were digging trails of fire into his back.

  “Adam, please…”

  He was a little reluctant to tear his mouth away from her breasts, which were every bit as full and beautiful as he’d imagined, especially since he liked the whimpering sound Rebecca made almost as much as the impatient growling from deep in her throat.

  He kissed his way up her neck as he settled his body between her thighs. While covering her mouth with his own, he eased his aching cock into her warmth and her breathy gasp was captured by the kiss.